He said her name again, a little groan in it this time.
"I'm sorry," she apologized with a laugh. "I can't seem to stop touching on you. I could go again if that makes it better. I'm not sure I'm capable of coming anymore tonight, but I'd really, really love to have you in my pu**y. I'd really love to feel you come inside me that way."
He pulled her hold from him, but not before she felt a fresh spurt of stiffness roll through his cock.
"Zoe," he said. "I can't do this with you now."
His c**k seemed to think it could. He had leaned back from her onto his heels, and her view was clear. His erection wavered higher even as she watched, a miracle of human pneumatics.
She wriggled onto her elbows. "What do you mean, you can't?"
"I mean I'm not ready to have intercourse with you."
His expression was absolutely serious. Zoe felt her temper begin to rise. "You mean emotionally ready, right? Because the rest of you is looking like it's in the mood."
He closed his eyes for a long heartbeat. "There are things about myself I can't explain to you."
"And I guess that's because I'm so untrustworthy?"
"Zoe—"
"No, don't bother feeding me more lines." She sat up and hugged a pillow to her front, abruptly in need of the shield. "I know you haven't got vagina-phobia. As much as the local rumor mill blabbers about you, someone would have mentioned that."
"Zoe—"
"I'm your friend, Magnus, or I thought I had been for the last two years. Yes, I've been stupid enough to want more, but that doesn't mean I'll tolerate being treated like someone who can't be confided in. You know who I am. My character isn't a mystery. If your issues, whatever they are, are too intimate to share with me, you can just bundle them up and go."
His mouth opened again, but this time she interrupted him before her name could come out.
"I mean it. I think something special happened here tonight, but no amount of special is going to excuse you still holding back. I've had enough of men wanting to hide half of themselves from me. Come back when and if you're ready to get over that."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple jerking in his throat. She was glad to see she'd shaken him—though her satisfaction was premature.
"I need to think about this," he said, adding insult to an injury she'd thought was plenty deep enough.
"Fine," she said. "You go think."
She didn't call him back when he pulled on his clothes and climbed out her window, not even when he sent one last searching glance over his shoulder. Maybe he was sorry to be leaving, but that didn't fix what was wrong.
Growling with frustration, she threw her pillow across the room. What was wrong with her that she kept falling for these conflicted men? There seemed no point in guessing what Magnus's problem was. This whole mess only underscored how near to a stranger he really was. She'd never met his family or heard him mention their names. He'd never told her where he'd grown up, or gone to school, or what he'd done for work before he took up managing artists. Apart from knowing that he was cheerful, fabulous in bed, and possessed of occasionally odd taste in shoes, they might as well have met a week ago. Oh, she knew she held a higher place in his interest than his other protégés, but did having lunch a few times a week truly constitute friendship?
Right then, it didn't feel like it. Right then, it felt like she'd been deluded about everything.
The house was silent, lonelier somehow than if she'd been in it alone. Bryan and Alex were probably asleep, curled up together in sensual exhaustion, neither of them available to talk to her—even if confiding in them had been a good idea.
I want my cat, she thought, pushing out of bed to get him.
The irony that her one present comfort had come to her from Magnus wasn't lost on her.
Chapter Ten
Zoe's morning didn't seem destined to lift her mood. Yes, it was sunny and, yes, the heat index was reasonable, but the fairies were sulking over her having welcomed their two least favorite people into her home. Aside from a shimmer of presence around Corky, they didn't appear at all. Without their assistance, Zoe's hair did scary things when she blew it dry.
Alex and Bryan were long gone by the time she shuffled into the kitchen. Whether they were embarrassed by the noises they'd made the previous night or the ones she had, she didn't know. Their absence wouldn't have been so annoying if they'd left her more than a drip of coffee that wouldn't keep a flea awake. Half a stale bagel languished in her bread box, but of course her toaster was still on the fritz from Florabel's linguistic experiments.
"Love you, too," Zoe muttered to her absent friends.
Corky stretched and mewled as she tucked him into her handbag with what supplies she could scrounge up for him. He seemed to find his new container fascinating, sniffing at the woven straw with great interest.
"At least you're no trouble," she said to the now wide-eyed cat. He had, to her relief, already figured out the purpose of his newspapers.
She'd almost gotten on her way when Samuel popped into visibility before the door. He was still dressed like Robin Hood and had clearly come to her in a snit. His hands were planted on the h*ps of his leaf-green tunic, and his wings beat so fast the tiny feather in his tiny cap threatened to blow off.
"What's wrong?" she asked in exasperation. "None of your compadres want to talk to me, and you drew the short straw?"
"I gave you my name," he huffed. "And now you do this!"
"This?" Zoe attempted to sound more patient. A fairy's name was a sacred trust. Theoretically, it could be used to summon them against their will—though she wasn't sure the old lore applied to fairies as willful as Rajel's flock.
True or not, Samuel was milking her supposed betrayal for all it was worth. "Kittens don't need to go to work!"
"Kittens need to be fed, Samuel. By someone who can actually lift a box of kibble. And kittens need to bond with their owners, not just their fairy guardians."
"Your workplace is a bad environment. All sorts of riffraff go there!"
"I doubt Magnus will show up today, if that's what you're getting at."
Samuel could fit an awful lot of disapproval into a face no bigger than her fingernail. He did not, however, disappear at the mere mention of Magnus's name.
"You could come to work with us," she suggested, sensing an opening. "I'm planning to shop for Corky on my lunch hour."
"Petsmart?" Samuel breathed, his reverent tone suggesting this was akin to visiting the Louvre.