Soaring (Magdalene, #2)

by Kristen Ashley

I was the daughter of J.P. and Felicia Hathaway, which meant I was a Hathaway. Upper class. Moneyed. Well-educated. Appropriately dressed. Conservative. Mannered. Superior. Aloof. Privileged. Elite. That was what I was and I was given no choice to be anything else. So that was what I became. And thus I buried the fact that sometimes I wanted just to go with the Amelia of the Day, whoever she might be, and grab whatever scent that defined her that day. Then the next, I could be something different. Whatever I wanted to be. Not what she wanted me to be. Not what they demanded I be.

...

I needed a to-do list. I needed a to-do list with a variety of headings, this likely ending up the length of Santa’s gift list. But first, I needed to make a decision. Stay this low and allow myself to sink lower. Or get my head out of my ass and pull myself together. I’d come out to Maine to do the latter, and within a few weeks, ended up kissing my handsome, good guy neighbor, in one fell swoop killing a promising relationship of friendship and camaraderie and turning it into an awkward relationship of avoidance and unease.

🫥

I had to start looking out for me. I had to stop being so needy. I no longer had a husband to fulfill me. I had lost the children who, simply breathing, gave me all I could need. I had to find something for me that would fill those voids. And I couldn’t sink any lower. I couldn’t live another day feeling like I had that day. I couldn’t live another week, another month, an eternity, feeling like I had since Conrad told me across the bed we shared, the bed we made our children in, that he was leaving me for another woman.

🥺

“We gotta talk.” That didn’t sound promising. But right then, not one thing was about me. “I’m not going anywhere,” I told him. “Best kiss I ever had,” he told me. I drew in a sharp breath, those five words thrilling down my throat, to my belly, straight to the tips of my toes. “Want more,” he went on. “You with me?”

💜

“You have absolutely no idea what I need,” I whispered. “And the sad part about that is that you didn’t notice you’d already given me everything I’d ever need just letting me sit at your dinner table with your family.” And on that, I closed and locked the door.

.

“I’ll warn you, might make me crazy, might make me a dick, don’t give a shit, but I get off on goin’ head to head with you. So if you feel like keepin’ your gloves up, baby, bring it. ’Cause I know after doin’ it for a while and then gettin’ that kiss from you, you keep doin’ it, when I finally fuck you it’s gonna,” he leaned deep into me, “wreck you.” I stared into his eyes and that got to me. I wanted to be wrecked. I wanted to be wrecked by Mickey. Needed it.

😏

I didn’t care. He knew I was into him and I wanted him to know that what we’d just shared and spending time with him was important to me. He could be smug about it. He was gorgeous.

😊

I’ll try to be more understanding.” He smiled back but his was different. His was sexy. “You could. Or you could get pissed, stick up for yourself, get in my face, be a smartass and earn yourself a couple of orgasms.” I felt my knees tingle in a way I knew they’d be weak if I was standing instead of sitting cross-legged, facing him on the couch. I didn’t show this reaction. I shook my head like he was annoying and kept eating my wonton. “Though,” he kept going, “after my dainty heiress went wild for me, we’ll see about you gettin’ orgasms on a more regular basis.”

😏

“Told the guys. They’re pretty happy about the new shit that’s coming.” “Of course they are,” I returned. “It’s a sixty inch TV. A woman is happy with six inches. For a man to get happy, it has to be sixty.” He burst out laughing. “Do I speak truth?” I asked.

Yep!

“Hey, baby.” “Hey back,” I greeted Mickey then blurted, “I wanna go away with you.” “Uh…what?” “Whenever, wherever for however long you want to go. I don’t care. I want you to know I want to go with you. I want to take Pop Tarts and squirtable cheese and crackers, and other food we don’t have to cook that we can eat with our fingers so we can stay in bed naked all day together. I want to go, whenever, wherever, and I want it to be just about you and me.” There was a moment of silence before he replied gently, “I love that, Amy, I love that you gave that to me.

💜

“Love you, Amy.” I stilled completely. He felt it. “I don’t care if that’s too soon for you,” he announced. “You do with it what you want. Keep it and hold it to you and hope like fuck you give it back when you’re ready. But you gotta know, it’s yours.”

💜

“Mickey!” He turned to me. “You gotta know too,” I said. He stood there, almost right where I’d first seen him, looking more beautiful than ever. Because he was mine. All mine. Truly mine. Every inch. Straight down to his heart. “You gotta know I love you too,” I went on. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, honey. A great dad. A good man.” I smiled. “The best neighbor ever.”

💜💜