Chapter Twelve

SIMON

I don’t remember dozing off, but all the same, I wake up in my recliner to my body intertwined with Magnolia’s like one big pretzel. The chair is big and comfy, but the two of us in it together is pushing it in the most glorious way.

Hell, this chair can break and fall to pieces for all I care, as long as I’m holding her.

Softly, I trail the pads of my fingers across her cheek, not enough pressure to wake her, just enough to let me feel her silky skin. The thought of her asshole ex-husband laying his hands on her makes me so damn angry. How a man can use his strength against a woman—especially one as good and pure as Magnolia—is something I’ll never understand. Makes me fucking sick to think of the things she went though at that monster’s hands. Men like him should be castrated, plain and simple.

I’ve been watching her sleep for about fifteen minutes when she finally begins to stir, blinking her big blue eyes open one at a time. Her vision shifts down to where I’ve been stroking her cheek and her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away or move to get up. No, she snuggles in closer, laying her head on my chest.

“You d-don’t think differently of me now, right?” Magnolia asks, her voice barely audible.

My chest tightens at her words. The very fact that she’d think that slays me. Our fucking society is so quick to victim-blame that it makes me sick. “No, Goldilocks. Never.”

“E-even though I didn’t leave the first time he hit me?” There’s a raw vulnerability to her voice, and if I wasn’t already seated, swear to God, it’d bring me to my knees.

“Even though. Sometimes it’s not as black and white as that. Sometimes you can’t leave. I get that, Magnolia, and I would never think less of you—or anyone—for doing their best in an unthinkable situation, and that’s what you did.”

“How do you know? That I did my best?”

“Because I know you.”

Magnolia shifts up to face me, and we’re almost nose to nose. “Thank you,” she whispers, her words skating across my lips.

I sit statue-still, afraid if I move, she’ll move, and my God, I don’t want her to move. Thankfully, she doesn’t—well, not away from me at least. Instead, she leans farther into me, brushing her lips against mine, the movement soft but so damn erotic.

She moves to press her lips to mine again and I capture her full bottom lip, sucking on it before releasing it and diving headlong into our kiss.

Turning herself fully so she’s straddling me, Magnolia rocks her hips, moaning at the contact. As much as I want to do away with the clothes that separate us, grip her hips, and thrust home, I refrain. This right here…it isn’t about me.

It’s about Magnolia, her wants and needs, and if dry-humping me to oblivion is what she wants, then blue balls be damned, my girl’s gonna get what she wants.

Our kiss becomes frenzied, right along with Magnolia’s movements, until she’s sweaty and panting. I can tell she’s close, and I can’t wait to watch her fall over the edge. Eager to help her finish, I bring my hands to her hips to slow her movements and begin guiding them, rolling my hips so my hard meets her soft, right where she needs it most.

Magnolia’s eyes widen, and her mouth forms the most perfect little O before she throws her head back and rides out her release, collapsing on top of me.

I wait for her to lift her head from my chest, but she stays down. “Magnolia,” I prompt, but…nothing. “Hey, Mags,” I try again, running my hands through her hair. “Look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, trying to scramble off my lap.

My instinct is to hold her there, but knowing her past, I’ll never hold her down or make her feel trapped. “Sorry? For what?”

My question gives her pause, and she sinks back onto my thighs. “F-for what just h-happened.”

Carefully, I trail my thumb across her jaw. “Goldilocks, what just happened was nothing short of pure fucking magic. Never seen anything more beautiful than you falling apart all over me.”

“You…you mean you’re not mad that I…that I…finished?”

Her words and tone stop me short. “Wait.” She can’t mean what I think she means. “He didn’t take care of your needs first?”

Magnolia’s cheeks burn crimson. “Grant s-said it was sh-shameful. He said—”

I can’t hear any more of this shit. I silence her with a soft kiss. “There’s nothing shameful about what just happened. Not. A. Damn. Thing.” I slide Magnolia from my lap and stand from the recliner, pulling her up so she’s standing too. “Any real man puts his woman first, in the bedroom and in day-to-day life. A real man knows watching his woman fall apart is a fucking honor. You hear me?”

Magnolia brings her blues to mine, meeting my gaze with watery eyes. “Yeah, Simon, I hear you.” I keep our eyes locked until I’m satisfied she believes me then pull her into my arms. Against my shirt, Magnolia mumbles, “How’d you get to be such a good man?”

“My dad taught me everything not to do,” I deadpan.

“Ah. Yeah, that’ll do it.”

Magnolia and I spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch, bingeing on Netflix shows, only pausing to scarf down food. Before either one of us know it, hours and hours have passed, and the sun has long since set.

Just as the credits for the latest episode of our show roll, Magnolia’s phone pings somewhere in the house, causing her to get up and search for it.

Curious about exactly how much time has passed, I set off on a hunt for my own phone, only to find it wedged between the cushion and the side of the recliner we were sleeping—and doing other things—in. Damn, it’s nearing eight o’clock already. Time flies…

Moments later, Magnolia walks back into the room, looking wide-eyed and flustered. “Everything okay?” I ask, rushing to her side. It’s been an emotional day for the both of us, but especially her.

Hesitantly, she nods her head. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Talk to me, Goldilocks.” I wind a strand of her hair that’s slipped from her braid around my index finger and tug on it gently before releasing it.

“No, it’s n-nothing, really. I got a text message. It was a wrong number, but still a really weird message.”

“Weird how?”

“Weird like…here.” She thrusts her phone toward me. “Just look.”

I take the phone from her and scan over the screen. My eyes widen at the message before me. I even read it twice to make sure I read it right.

Unknown: I know where you are.

“What in the hell?”

Magnolia shrugs her shoulders.

“You don’t recognize the number at all?” I ask.

“Nu-uh. I’ve only ever lived here and Charleston. I couldn’t even begin to tell you where that area code comes from.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen it either. Hang on, I’ll Google it.” After unlocking my phone, I tap on the little microphone in the Google search bar and begin speaking after it beeps at me. “Okay, Google, where is area code 617?”

“Area code six hundred seventeen primarily serves Boston, Cambridge, Quincy, and others.”

“You know anyone in Boston?” I ask, just to double-check.

“Nope, not a single soul.” She sounds resolute.

“Good. Hopefully they realize they sent that weird-ass text to the wrong person.”