Page 26 of Stealing It
“Thanks, Aidan. For being so understanding. Also, you have really great advice. Give yourself more credit with the relationship stuff,” she says. Looking up to meet my gaze. “I want to kiss you right now, but I also want to go inside. If we kiss, I’m not sure the second will get accomplished.”
Grinning, I say. “I’m good with advice and self-control. If it’s a kiss you want,” I whisper, leaning over.
Her eyes narrow. “It’s not your self-control I’m worried about.”
Shaking my head, I lean in and press my mouth against hers. It’s a soft kiss—just enough to taste her. I pull away before I lose myself and have to invoke my control. Magnolia melts in my arms, and if I were alone, I’d bang on my chest—knowing I have her so fully. Leaning my forehead against hers, I watch her breathe. “Shall we go inside?”
“Yeah, though we might not stay long.”
“No? You have things you need to get,” I reply.
“Something else I need to have will take precedence,” she says, sliding her hand onto the bulge in my shorts. She squeezes softly, then continues, “There’s only so many hours in the day, you know?”
I run one hand through my hair, a cheek-splitting grin wrecking my face. “Magnolia Sager, I do believe you’ve made me blush.”
“But do you agree with my plan?”
I’m losing my mind. I’m losing everything in favor of one thing. Feeding this hunger I’ve never felt before. She wants to know if I agree with her plan? Her chin in my hand, I kiss her more aggressively, dragging her hand back to my dick so she can feel just how much I agree. Her smile breaks our kiss. “Yes. Agreed,” I say. “In case you had any doubts or wanted verbal confirmation.”
She still lingers on my lips when we enter the warm garage serving as the auction house. Fans are blowing in every direction. There is air conditioning, but with all of the doors open to bring in the larger items for the auction the heat seeps in. Magnolia looks out of place in a room full of old people. I watch her walk the perimeter searching for whatever items she’s seeking. Her long brown ponytail is high, brushing her shoulders as she leans over to get a closer look at a tagged item. She looks up to where I’m standing and waves me over.
“Look at this,” she says, pointing at a box of jewelry that looks like the nineties puked out. Sifting through it she adds, “I probably need this along with that dining set.” Magnolia motions to the corner where an old ass table with six chairs sits.
I nod. “They are real gems,” I exclaim, raising one brow.
She hits me on the shoulder, watching her hand as our bodies touch. “Don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about. Just ask me questions.”
I do ask. I know everything I can possibly know about Victorian furniture twenty minutes later. We take our seats in the brown, folding chairs as the auctioneer speaks faster than I knew possible. I watch his mouth as he runs through the gamut of random bobs and bits until he gets to Magnolia’s dining set.
She throws her paddle up in the air and calls out a price before he can even introduce one. Another man double our age does too. And so it goes for a couple of minutes that feel like hours. I break out in a cold sweat when I realize she might not win the table, and in this moment, my heart’s truest desire is that she wins. A fucking table. It’s my competitive nature. I’d take out the old geezer if this were a different kind of fight. Magnolia stands up, paddle in the air and calls out an offer significantly higher than the last one he gave. The old man shakes his head and puts his paddle down in defeat.
“Sold, number one one niner,” the auctioneer calls when the bidding war concludes. I’m surprised I’m at the edge of my seat.
Leaning over, I realize she’s breathing heavy. “That was intense,” I remark.
“It always is,” she replies, smiling at me. “I knew you’d like it.”
“This table must really be worth something.” I narrow my eyes at the piece of furniture once more.
“I have to fix it up a bit, but it will so be worth it.” Her eyes light.
I load the heavy set into the bed of her truck and we’re back at her house in record time. I unload the table into her workshop garage as carefully as I can and then we’re standing in the heat of her workspace, staring at each other. A drop of sweat rolls between her breasts and I press my lips together. It reminds me of the last time we had sex. Hot sex. Sex that changed everything for me. It was sex so desperate and passionate that I can’t even view her sweat without getting turned on. “Going to give me a tour?” I ask, watching her mouth, gesturing to her house with a head movement.
She nods. “We have forty minutes before Kendall gets out of school. Let’s go.”
There is no actual tour. She locks the door of her bedroom the second we enter, retreats to the restroom for a brief moment and then moves toward me like a lioness. I don’t have time to speak a word. She’s on me.
