Her hand roams from her breast to her pussy, pressing on her clit and then on the base of my cock.
She clenches around me, and it’s almost more than I can take.
“Not so fast,” I pant and pull her hand up to kiss her fingers. “I’m not ready to come yet.”
“No?”
“No.” I pick her up and carry her, still inside her, to the bedroom and lower us both to the bed. I don’t want to fuck her senseless, I want to make love to her. I brace my elbows beside her head and she cradles my pelvis between her thighs, and we just stay like this for a moment, staring into each others eyes. “I love you so much, Mallory.”
Her brow furrows in surprise, and tears pool in her gorgeous blue eyes.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’ve seen the love,” she says. “I’ve seen it in your eyes, and I’ve felt it when you hold me, but it’s an entirely different thing to hear it.”
“I said it last night,” I remind her.
“Yes, and then it felt like things had shifted overnight, like you had a chance to really think about what I am, and were having second thoughts.”
“Not second thoughts,” I reply and brush my fingers through her hair. “I was just confused, and I’m an overthinker. Dad told me to cut that shit out and enjoy you.”
“I love your dad,” she says with a grin.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips. “You’ll get used to hearing it because I plan to say it every day, just to remind you.”
“That’s lovely,” she says. I move my hips slowly, pulling out and then pushing back inside, and she sighs.
“Is this lovely?”
“No, it’s fucking amazing,” she says. “It’s like you were made just for me.”
“Because I was, sugar.”
Chapter Twenty
Mallory
Three Months Later
“You should go on home,” I say to Shelly after she bags a customer’s purchase and reshelves some items that another customer decided to pass on. “It’s Christmas Eve. Go spend it with your family.”
“Are you sure?” She frowns and glances about the shop. “It seems to be slowing down, but it could get busy again. People have a whole year to plan for Christmas, and yet it seems everyone waits for Christmas Eve so they can panic.”
“Well, I won’t complain too much because it was a lucrative day.” I grin and reach for the envelope I already addressed to my assistant and pass it to her. “Merry Christmas.”
She opens the envelope and looks up at me in shock. “This is too much.”
“You deserve a bonus,” I reply and pull her in for a hug. I’m much less worried about being touched these days. Even though Grandmamma was right and my walls are permanently down now, I’m learning to cope with this new way of life.
Part of me wishes I’d done it long ago. It’s much less stressful.
“Thank you,” Shelly says. “I brought you a little something.”
She disappears into the office, then returns with a small red gift bag.
“Thank you.” I’m ridiculously touched by her gift, and I haven’t even opened it yet. I sincerely like Shelly, and I’m so happy that I have her on my team.
“Open it,” she says with a grin.
“Okay.” I toss out the gold tissue and find a beautiful sprig of mistletoe. “Oh, this is beautiful.”
“I know it’s tradition at Christmas, but I’ve also learned that it’s for good luck, and a love talisman. I thought it would be perfect for your new home.”
“It’s absolutely perfect,” I agree and hug her once more. “Thank you. I know just where we will hang it.”
Shelly grins and reaches for her handbag. “You’re not staying late, are you?”
“No, I’m going to close up in a minute. I’m ready to go home, too.”
She nods and waves as she leaves. “Merry Christmas!”
“Same to you!”
I return the mistletoe to its bag, then set about the routine of closing up, counting the money drawer, closing out the credit cards, and taking out the trash.
We are supposed to go to Beau’s mom’s house both this evening and tomorrow to celebrate with the family, and I’m nervous. It’s our first Christmas together. But they were kind enough to also invite Lena and Miss Sophia so we could all be together, and it made me fall in love with Beau and his family even more deeply.
And I didn’t know that was possible.
I lock the front door and turn around to find a bottle of lavender oil suspended in the air, and then it’s thrown and broken against the wall.
“Miss Louisa!” I prop my hands on my hips in frustration. “You’ve been throwing a tantrum for a month now. What’s wrong?”
She never shows herself to me, but she sure lets me know that she’s here. This isn’t the first time she’s thrown something, and she’s become famous for talking in my ear, startling the hell out of me.
“If you want to tell me why you’re angry, just come talk to me. I’m right here.”
I stand still, listening. Everything is silent again, but I can still feel her here.
Suddenly, she walks out of my office, as if she works here and she’s coming out to help me with a customer.
“Hello,” I say, watching her carefully. “You’re a beautiful woman. And a sad one.”
She nods and looks around the shop, concern written all over her lovely face.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“I don’t know why you’re here,” she says, surprising me. Her voice is soft and feminine. She’s wearing a long blue dress with an apron, and her blonde hair is twisted up on the back of her head.
“I own this shop,” I reply.
“I’ve been trying to make you leave,” she says. “I don’t want a ghost in my place. And you keep moving things.”
I step back, completely stunned. Does she not know that she’s dead? I’m tempted to shut her out and ignore her, the way I always did before three months ago when everything happened out at the inn.
But I’m learning that ignoring something doesn’t change it. And Miss Louisa obviously needs me.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be in your way.”
“I can’t bake my breads and sweets with you in the way.”
“No, I imagine you can’t.” I blink and quickly try to decide how I’m going to handle this. “Miss Louisa, do you know what year this is?”
“Why, it’s 1915, of course.”
Holy shit.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Louisa. I should have talked to you sooner, to try to help you.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she replies with tears in her eyes.
“I know that now, and I can help you. Do you remember not being here? I mean, do you remember the last time you went home for the evening?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just always here. Sometimes I go up in the attic, but there are strange people up there too.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid. You’re not in danger. But I have to tell you that you’ve passed away, Miss Louisa. And you’re stuck here.”
“No, that can’t be true. My husband will be here any minute to pick me up.”
Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)
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