Prom Night in Purgatory (Purgatory #2)(68)

Maggie shut the door and turned back to Johnny. He stood with his hands shoved in his back pockets, his head tipped to the side. He looked quite delicious standing in her room, and she had to swallow her heart once, then twice, as it threatened to tumble from her chest. He was here. And she was here. Finally together - no Purgatory, no anger, and at this moment, no regrets. Once he had told her that every moment with her had made the fifty years in Purgatory worth it. Now she had reason to hope that he would feel that way again. The intense gratitude that suddenly consumed her rose up and spilled onto her cheeks.

“Hey? Are you okay?” Johnny asked softly, taking a slow step toward her, his head tilted to one side.

“I’m better than okay,” Maggie whispered, and her chin wobbled the slightest bit. She yanked off her glasses and cleaned them on the bottom of her T-shirt to create a diversion from the sudden weight of her emotions.

“Maggie?” He took her glasses from her hand and set them on her nightstand.

“Hmmm?”

“Look at me, Maggie.”

Maggie felt him close the final steps, but she didn’t dare look up. “Don’t cry, baby. I’ll go to the prom with you,” he teased quietly.

Maggie giggled, but the giggle broke into a sob and she stepped into him, holding onto his shirt and rubbing her face across the familiar planes of his chest, breathing him in and letting him comfort her like he had many times before.

“Shhhh,” Johnny soothed, sliding his hands up and down her back, nuzzling her hair. “Car thieves don’t cry, baby. You gotta toughen up if you’re gonna have a future with good old Clyde here.”

“I like it when you do that.”

“What?”

“Call me baby,” Maggie whispered.

“You liked it when I called you Bonnie too,” he replied with a smile in his voice. “Why?”

“You used to call me baby all the time. It makes me believe you can love me again.”

Johnny wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and lifted her to him, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks before he touched his lips to hers.

“I’m already there Maggie. I fell in love when you begged me to help you escape the cops. I fell in love when we danced to Nat King Cole singing ‘Stardust’ on a moonlit beach. Hell, I fell in love when you told me how blondes spell farm.”

“E-I-E-I-O,” Maggie quipped wetly.

Johnny laughed and held her tightly.

“There’s something I want to give you,” Johnny whispered into her hair. “It used to be the thing to do--though I never did, ‘cause I didn’t ever have anyone I cared about in that way.”

Maggie pulled back so she could look into Johnny’s face.

Johnny reached into his front pocket and pulled out a silver pendant hanging from a long chain.

“When I was in high school, guys would give these to their girls. I’ve been thinking about it since Gus told us about his grandma and the Saint Christopher medal she always wore. I want you to wear it. Maybe it will help keep you safe.” Johnny held the pendant in his palm. It was silver and dainty, a weary traveler with a walking stick and a child on his back engraved in fine detail on the surface. Circling the edge were the words ‘Saint Christopher Protect Us.’

“Does this mean I’m finally your girl?” Maggie tried to be glib, but her voice was reverent as she fingered the pretty little pendant.

Johnny laughed and gently fastened the long chain around Maggie’s neck. Smoothing her hair back over her shoulders, he touched his lips to hers again.

“Thank you, Johnny.” Maggie cradled his face in her hands and brushed her lips up and then down, answering his questioning kisses with her own. Then she touched her tongue lightly to his fuller bottom lip. He stilled, and her breath caught. He returned the caress lightly, tasting the salt of her tears and the warmth and silkiness of her mouth. And then the restraint was gone. Her hands slid into his hair as he wrapped hers around his fists, pulling her head back to give him a better angle on her lips. The door met her back as he pushed her against it, using it as leverage to bring her closer. She rained kisses along his jaw until he growled and pulled her mouth back to his. One hand flexed at her waist while the other palm flattened on the door above her. And then the other hand joined it as he tried to push himself from her while still keeping his lips locked on hers. She moved to follow, but his hands slid to her shoulders and gently kept her pressed against the door. He kissed her once more, and then again, as if he couldn’t pull himself from her. With a groan, he broke away, his hands holding her still, his eyes locked on hers, as he tried to master his desire.

“Irene is downstairs. Or upstairs...or...right outside...who knows. I have to go right now or I’ll end up dragging you out the door and having my way with you in the Bel Air, which isn’t what good guys do, and though I’ve never pretended to be one of the good guys, I want to be one with you.”

Maggie didn’t respond. She wished he weren’t such a good guy at the moment. She wished that she wasn’t tempted to run to the Bel Air like the bad girl she had never been. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she pushed against the hands still keeping her from him.

“Maggie...” he groaned again, and her eyes snapped back to his.

“You better go,” she giggled, biting her lip. “I can’t promise that Bonnie won’t attack Clyde.”