“I keep telling myself, there’s no way for you to know what I’m feeling right now and what I went through.” Magnolia’s face crumples as she adds in a strained voice, “But I wish you could. I wish you knew what this felt like and how much I wish everything was different. I’ve wished it for years.
“I never wanted to keep anything from you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just hurting myself and it kept me …” Her gaze drifts to the hallway every time her voice raises slightly. I don’t miss it. Her little girl, possibly my little girl, is tucked away sleeping.
My hands are raised as I go to her, the distance disappearing as I wrap my arms around her small frame. She sags against my chest although she doesn’t let her face touch my shirt. Instead her forearms are braced there.
I imagined this scene for hours before I came, ever since Griffin told me. He said he figured she was Robert’s until the rumor mill started up and there were whispers that it was some guy she hooked up with in college who’d knocked her up.
For all I know, that little girl could be Robert’s, my child, or someone else’s. But she should have told me if there was even a chance that she was mine.
That’s all I was thinking on the drive down here.
I didn’t know I’d feel like this. I didn’t know she’d break down like she is. “I don’t want you to be upset,” I whisper in her hair, rocking her slightly and running my hand up and down her back.
Magnolia doesn’t say anything, but she does try to pull away and I don’t want her to. I don’t know a lot of things right now, but I know when she backs away and heads to the bathroom, I wish she didn’t. I wish she’d lay her head against me and let her tears land wherever they land; I’d still hold her.
With nothing in my arms and feeling a weight on my chest, I plant myself down on her sofa. My elbows rest on my knees as I lean forward. It was one night years ago. A single night. My grandfather’s voice jokes in the back of my head: It only takes once.
“There’s a chance she’s yours. And there’s a chance she’s not,” Magnolia admits to me. “I didn’t know how to tell you when she’s … she’s my whole world and it feels like no matter what I do, it comes back on her.” It takes great effort on her part to keep the fresh tears back and I hate to see her like this.
I don’t know how to make things right, but I want to.
My mind races with every possible thought until she sits down beside me. Leaving space between us, far too much space. With my chin propped up on my closed fist, I peek at her.
Her red-rimmed eyes barely glance back. Everything makes sense now. Every little detail all lining up. I know I’m not feeling what she’s feeling, but damn it hurts. It’s too much.
“Dahlia, you look prettier when you smile,” I joke with her and her expression falters a moment until she sees me smile. Rose. Magnolia. It doesn’t matter what she calls herself.
“Dahlia now?” A hint of a smile touches her flushed face.
“They’re beautiful flowers,” I whisper back with a smirk. “Come here,” I say, giving her the small command, leaning back and gesturing with my hand. She’s slow to fold herself into my arms but she does. This time her cheek rests against my chest and her hand lays right in the center of it.
“Which one is a dahlia?” she asks me and my chest vibrates with a chuckle, stirring her.
“I have no idea, to be honest.” She smiles broader and I feel it. My smile widens too when she readjusts, sneaking closer to me until her leg is pressed against mine and my arm fully wraps around her back. “It’s the first flower name that came to me after Rose and Magnolia,” I say.
There’s a small bit of peace and stillness that rests between us. Her guard is still up when she tells me, “I really, really like you, but I mean it when I say she’s my whole world and that I don’t know what to do to protect her from this …”
All I can think is that this town is going to talk and judge. The animosity Magnolia got when her father screwed over this town is what she’s afraid of. Not the part directed at her, but in the way they’ll look at and talk about her daughter.
It’s all too heavy and all too much.
I confess the only thing I can think to admit. “I want to kiss you.”
She peeks up at me, her tired eyes glossy again. “Even still?” she asks. The pain and insecurity are raw and vibrant in her doe eyes.
“Even more seeing you like this.”
With my hand cupping her chin, I press my lips to hers, silencing all of that uncertainty.
She’s quick to deepen it and her slender fingers wrap around the back of my neck. What was peaceful turns hot in an instant.
I nip her bottom lip and peek down at her, her eyes still closed when I kiss her again. My tongue sweeps across the seam of her lips and she parts them for me, granting me entrance.
I’m hard and in need and there’s no way she isn’t in need too.
The sofa protests with a groan as I lay her down, never taking my lips off hers. My hands roam up her nightgown and it’s only then that she breaks our kiss, breathing heavily and whispering my name like a plea.
Please don’t deny me. For the love of all things holy, please don’t deny me.
“We have to be quiet,” is the only warning she gives me and I devour those sweet lips of hers and rush to undress us both.
Her hand is hot and full of the same need every inch of her is giving me as she slips her fingers up my shirt. With the scratch of her nails, the strokes of her tongue against mine and the gentle moaning, her desire and need meet my own.
It’s a cloud of lust and longing that unveils itself around us in the dark night in her living room. Her sofa groans as she lays down and I meet every inch of her movements with mine. Skin on skin, heat on heat, there’s nothing between us, nothing stopping us.
Raking my teeth up her neck I listen to the sweet gasp of pleasure that spills from her lips. Slipping my hand between her legs, I find her ready.
With the tip of my finger I gently play with her clit, loving how she writhes under me.
She begs and pleads, the arch of her foot pressed against my ass to push me closer to her.
“Brody, I want you,” she murmurs with lust laying over every word.
The spark in her eyes, the heavy rise and fall of her chest, and my name on her lips fuels me to let go of everything and all sense, and take her like I’ve wanted to.
With a swift movement, I thrust all of myself into her in a single movement. Her eyes widen, her bottom lip drops and her nails dig into my skin. She’s tight, so fucking tight.
Pain and pleasure swirl in her doe gaze and I wait for her body to relax, planting small kisses along her jawline. I take my time with them and when she’s finally able to breathe, I slow my motions and rock into her, stretching out her pleasure and loving how every time I fill her, she whimpers with lust.
“Brody.” Her whispers urge me to never let a moment pass where I’m not concerned with what she needs and how right this feels between us.
It’s slow and steady until she finds her release and then the selfish part of me takes over, lifting her left leg, pinning her down and fucking her into the cushion as she bites down on my shoulder to muffle her screams of pleasure.