He crossed the room quietly and sat on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle her too much. Reaching out, he tugged the top pillow out from under her head in one quick motion—like ripping off a Band-Aid.
At least, that was the hope.
“Why?” she croaked.
Her sleep roughened voice made him smile. “Mags. It’s me.” He knew the instant her sleepy brain realized who was sitting on her bed when her body stilled and stiffened.
Mags knocked off the rest of the pillows and blanket wrapped about her head and upper body, sitting up slowly and turning to face him.
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she shifted back, putting space between them until her shoulders met the headboard. Her arms crossed over her chest, a clear barrier, even as the movement subtly changed the line of her body beneath the soft fabric of her sleep tank.
Jonathan noticed.
Of course he did.
And just as quickly, he forced his gaze upward, locking onto her face instead.
Jonathan cleared his throat and shifted nervously on the mattress. There was nothing for it but to start.
Her feet were the closest part of her to him, so he wrapped one hand around her foot, needing to be touching her, connected in any way he could.
“I spent the night reflecting on my reaction to meeting Rory—well, I already knew him,” he corrected, “but not as the man who…that you… had a relationship with.
“He wasn’t a one-night stand, Mags, and even though you said you never loved him, there had to be some feelings on your side. That is the realization that came to me when he was professing his feelings towards you.
“I felt like I’d been stabbed, robbed of something essential. I wish I’d been your first,” he moved up the bed so he could cup her cheeks and look directly in her eyes, “for everything. Everything! And I fucked that up. I wasn’t there, and you gave your firsts to him.
“I lost it. My brain, my fucking common sense, abandoned me. There is no excuse. I did this to us. I don’t have the right to feel hurt or wounded or whatever,” he waved his hand in front of his face, “but I am. I was.”
“Not anymore?” she asked softly, the first time she’d spoken since he’d started.
“I am.” He exhaled heavily, relieved to admit that. “I also know I love you, and you love me. You’re committed to me, and no one is more loyal than you, Margaret Morrow.
“I was up all night regretting my part in hurting you—regretting a whole shitload of things really. The truth is, Rory’s been the better man to you for a long time. I panicked when I realized you had every right to pick him over me.”
When she looked like she would argue, he quickly added, “But then I remembered you love me. You already chose me, and I acted like an ass for no reason.
“Tell me that we can put it behind us, and I’ll promise to never…well, maybe not never, but I promise to try not to get jealous. No,” he shook his head, “that’s not right either. I promise that when I do get jealous, I’ll try not to let it show.”
Mags snorted in amusement and used her knee to bat his side. “That promise got weaker by the second,” she grinned, “but I accept your apology because I love you even when you’re an ass. Before you start patting yourself on the back for your half-assed apology, you need to know that I will be contacting Rory and apologizing. Not just for last night but for not contacting him sooner and telling him that he and I are finished.”
He felt the ugly burn of jealousy wash over him. So much for turning over a new leaf. “We’ll go together.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m the one who needs to apologize.” He didn’t mention to Mags that he was still thinking of making Rory’s firm uneasy for a while—after all, friendly competition was fair game.
All she said was, “O’Faolains—can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”
Jonathan kneeled on the mattress, and before his intentions registered, he grasped her hips and yanked her toward him until she was flat on her back with him between her legs.
“How about I remind you why you want to live with me?” he asked, while simultaneously reaching for her tank and panty set. His left hand dragged her tank over her head while his right pulled her panties below her knees.
“Look at you, baby, so pretty and all mine.” Seeing her bare breasts and sex had every part of his body hardening. He stood on the bed, his clothes joining hers on the floor in under five seconds.
Jonathan stood long enough to take in Mags’ beautiful body sprawled below him. He let out a low breath as the morning light spilled across the rumpled sheets and over her skin. For a moment, he simply looked at her, so thankful that she’d forgiven him.
Margaret Morrow was a siren.
