“I really need to negotiate this into my next contract. Even if I can't score a place to live, use of the upstairs oasis would be nice.”
“Go for the spa, too,” he advised. “Free deep tissue massages.”
“You bragging bastard,” she grumbled, as she nuzzled into his side. “I hate you.”
He grinned and pulled her closer still. “I can tell.”
“Good,” she said, brushing her lips along his jaw line. “You're the absolute worst.”
Magnus turned his face, so that his lips brushed against hers then whispered, “I know, love,” against her lips.
When Caroline melted against him, he reached up to nip the clip from her hair. As the hair cascaded down her back, he pressed soft, gentle kisses to the side of her neck and combed his fingers through it.
“You smell like orange blossoms,” he murmured just before he moved his mouth back to hers. He'd made it a point to be gentle thus far, but her scent and the soft little sounds of pleasure that she continually made were driving him wild.
No longer able to resist, he slanted his mouth down over hers and just... took. At her surprised moan, his tongue swept into her mouth. He pressed her back against the chair and then groaned when her hands reached up to pull him even closer.
He plucked her hands from where they gripped handfuls of his cotton tee, and pinned them above her head. When she responded with a low whimper and then arched her body so she was pressed against his chest, he nipped at her lower lip.
Magnus moved to pin both wrists with one of his hands, then let the other explore her body. His fingers traced gently down her arm and along her waist while his tongue continued to swirl rhythmically against hers. Magnus couldn't remember the last time he'd been so aroused by a simple kiss.
Eventually, though it pained him to do so, he gentled the kiss and released her hands from where he'd held them captive. He had promised her there would be no pressure tonight. He made it a point to never, ever break a promise. When they finally separated, they were both panting. He slumped back against the back of the chair, desperately trying to get his pounding heart under control.
“I can see why you like it up here,” Caroline teased breathlessly as she slouched against his side.
“I must admit. I'm usually up here alone. It's never been quite like this,” he responded, still a little shell-shocked. “I might need a minute to recover from that.”
She gave a small sigh of contentment, curled back into his side and then said, “Tell me all there is to know about Magnus Corbett.”
He looked down at where she lay against him, smiled and then asked, “Everything?”
“You can give me the highlight reel if you'd like,” she said, her voice soft and almost sleepy.
Chuckling, he played gently with her hair and said, “Good of you.”
He found himself talking of his family. Both of his parents had long since passed and he had a sister living somewhere in England, he supposed. No one else in his family had been Transfigured, so when the change had happened, he'd pretty much been on his own. It was funny how genetics worked.
A doctor had explained to him about recessive genes but the end result had been that he'd essentially lost his family when he'd been about thirty. Not that they'd been very keen on him before that. They had slowly but surely backed their way entirely out of his life when he began to crave human blood. Perhaps they'd been frightened that they'd become a late night snack. It was hard to tell what motivated people. It was still a bit of a sore spot, but what could he do?
He even glossed over some of his previous relationships. Not that there'd been much for him to speak of. He wasn't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the allure of random hookups had long since worn off for him and he w
asn't an easy man to get along with.
She occasionally squeezed his leg in a gesture of comfort or asked a question. For the most though, she listened.
“And that's seventy years, ever so slightly abridged,” he concluded. “Now tell me everything, Caroline. Since we're only dealing with twenty years or so, feel free to be detailed.”
“Thirty two,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “That's sweet of you, though.”
“I was thinking twenty six but decided to err on the side of caution,” he admitted.
“Smart man.”
He grinned, then ordered, “Now start talking. And don't leave out any of the naughty bits.”
In between kisses she gave him an abbreviated history. He found out that she was an only child and daughter to a city council member in Orillia, a small town to the north of them. She talked a bit about the loneliness of growing up alone. Her mother was involved in charity work most of the time, and her father in local politics. That had been what prompted the pink hair and the tattoos. The moment she'd gotten out from underneath their thumb, she'd gone a bit wild.
He was also discovered that even with the wildness, she had gotten a degree in business management. After a few months of working in an insurance office, she'd been miserable. She'd missed the people and the constant buzz of excitement. Much to her parents’ displeasure, she'd gone back to bartending.