Soaring (Magdalene #2)(67)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I had it back.

I loved that too.

He bent to put my feet on the floor and started to let me go. I figured it would be a little clingy at this juncture to hold on tight, so I let him.

With one arm still around me, he lifted his other hand and brushed my bangs out of my eyes.

“See you tomorrow, baby.”

He would.

And I’d see him.

I was standing in his arm and still…

I couldn’t wait.

“You will,” I confirmed.

He grinned again, bent and kissed my nose this time and then let me go.

“Don’t be polite, wanna hear the locks click behind me,” he ordered.

God.

Mickey.

“All right.”

I went to the door and held the edge as he walked out.

I started to close it when he turned and called, “Amy?”

“Yeah?”

That was when I got a grin and a look in his eyes I’d never seen.

A grin and a look that foretold what he had said earlier.

When he had me, and he was going to have me, he was going to wreck me.

Then he said, “Nice nightie.”

I held on to the edge of the door tight so my legs wouldn’t fail me.

Mickey turned and walked away.

I forced myself to close the door and lock it without chasing him, or alternate scenario, melting in a puddle.

On shaking legs, I walked back to my bed.

I got in it knowing I’d never fall asleep.

I slept like a baby.

Chapter Fourteen

Everything about Me

The next night I sat beside Mickey in his truck, nearly paralytic with agonizing.

First, because this was happening. I was in Mickey’s truck and he was taking me to a restaurant for a date.

In all that had already happened, this was our beginning.

But there were no kids, no house sale and we weren’t fighting.

What if we had nothing to say?

God, what if he didn’t find me interesting?

It was funny (not in a ha ha way, in a terrifying way) as well as very telling that I hadn’t cared one bit about whether Boston or Bradley had found me interesting.

But I needed Mickey to find me interesting.

And I was terrified he wouldn’t.

Second, in a frenzy that was the beginning of my agonizing, nearly upon waking I’d gone through all my new clothes and found I didn’t have a single thing to wear for our date.

So I’d gone out shopping.

In store seven at the mall, I decided on a caftan dress that I thought was stunning. It looked made of scarves with a nearly Pucci print in robin’s egg blue and lavender. It had a straight hem that cut at my knees, had a tight waistline under my breasts and full three-quarter sleeves. Most importantly, through a deep V that went to the waistline, it had cleavage. I’d paired this with t-strap, light taupe suede sandals that had a high, thin, stacked wedge—four inches, no platform.

Very sexy.

I bought this because it was clear Mickey liked the dress I wore on my date with Bradley.

But the Lobster Market was not The Eaves. I’d been there for lunch with Ruth and Dela. A little black dress was not appropriate. I needed something more casual but I also needed it to say I felt this date was a special occasion because I didn’t want Mickey to think he wasn’t getting the best of me.

The good news was when he’d showed at my door his eyes had dropped to my cleavage and I saw them flare.

But then he’d just grabbed my hand and tugged me out of my house, waiting only briefly for me to lock the door before he quickly guided me to his truck that he’d driven across the street and parked in my drive so I didn’t have to walk all the way to his place.

Which was sweet.

But he didn’t say anything about the dress.

And last, I was agonizing because we were on our first date, but with all that had happened—fights, barbeques, Frisbee playing, family dinners—it felt more like a fourth or fifth date.

This, back in the day, was when I would start considering having sex.

And this, right then, might be when Mickey thought we should start having sex.

I had not had a lot of partners before Conrad, but I also wasn’t a virgin. And Conrad and I had had a healthy sex life. One I enjoyed. One I thought we’d both enjoyed. One that continued not only from start to finish but didn’t wane when I was pregnant or even after my pregnancies when I carried baby weight. And although during those times Conrad encouraged me to lose it and “get healthy,” that didn’t seem to affect his attraction to me.

And it was safe to say I wanted to have sex with Mickey.

But I was terrified because not only might he not find me a good conversationalist, worse, it had been a long time for me. I couldn’t imagine you could forget how to do it but I was concerned I’d get tense or worry too much I was giving him what he needed and he might find me a terrible lover.

Then where would we be?

I just stopped myself from wringing my hands and wondering hysterically if I should have slept with Bradley just to get back in the saddle when Mickey called, “Amy.”

“Yeah,” I answered the windshield.

God, even my voice sounded tight!

“Ash is with some girlfriends. She’ll be home by ten.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“And on our way back from the restaurant, we gotta pick up Cill, who’s hanging with some buds.”

“All right,” I kept mumbling.

My head twitched and I looked down when I felt Mickey’s hand at my elbow. I watched and experienced the tingles when it trailed down, at the same time tugging until he folded his big hand around mine.

“What I’m sayin’ is, you need to relax,” he went on gently. “My kids’ll be home tonight so, seein’ as when I have you, I intend to take my time doin’ that and not fuck you on your couch and do it quick so I can get back to my kids, this is just dinner, baby. You and me and some alone time. When I can concentrate on just you, that’s when we’ll take this there. Until then, just sit back and enjoy.”

How did he know what I was thinking?

Likely because he was thinking of having sex with me.

Just not tonight.

That was one relief.

Though, it didn’t help, his comment about “taking his time,” which made me want to start having sex with him immediately.

Unfortunately, that new urge was added to the other things I continued to worry about.

“You hear me?” he asked on a hand squeeze when I didn’t answer.

“I heard you.”

“You gonna relax?” he pushed.

“We’re not fighting,” I blurted, looking to him to see his eyes aimed at where we were going.