Beautifully Unexpected by Lily Morton

Chapter Thirteen

Two Weeks Later

Mags

I lean backagainst the hotel lift wall with a weary sigh. We seem to have been in Nottingham for two years rather than two weeks.

“It’s going well, sir.”

I squint at my pupil. “You think so, Sean?”

He wrinkles his nose, and I have a flash of Laurie doing the same. “Well, as long as we can keep Mr Pinton from mounting his own defence, we should be fine.”

“If he does that, his personality will make defending Hitler an easy prospect.”

He snorts. “Mr Pinton is a bit abrasive.”

“I’ve known scouring pads with better personalities.” He laughs, and I shift my rucksack on my back to a more comfortable position. “You have been a great help, Sean.”

He flushes. “Really? Thank you, sir.”

“It’s Magnus. I’ve told you that. You have been helpful. You have a very good legal brain. You’ll do well.”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” he says softly.

I seek a way to break the moment, and Endof provides the perfect one by groaning at my feet. “Did Miriam say Endof behaved better today?”

His lip twitches. “She said he was adequate.”

“Ack, I’m afraid that’s the limit of what we can ask of the wretched creature.”

“Apparently, it’s not the chewing so much. It’s more the constant howling. He’s very attached to you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure he is. I’m quite possibly the only person in the United Kingdom who is stupid enough to keep him.”

“I think you’re just as attached. Miriam said she’d never heard anything like being asked to look after a QC’s dog.”

“She should branch out more.”

He chuckles. “I think she secretly likes him. She bought him more toys to play with.”

“Had she rubbed them with arsenic before she gave them to him?”

The lift doors open as he bursts into laughter, and I click my tongue at the dog. “Come along, you wretched creature.”

“Mags, is that any way to talk to your colleagues?”

The warm, familiar voice comes from the chairs by the lift, and I spin around, almost overbalancing in the process. “Laurie,” I gasp.

“’Tis me,” he says lightly as Endof gives a happy bark and rushes to greet him. Laurie bends down to pat him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d check and see how Endof is coping with you.”

Sean’s snort of laughter reminds me that we have a witness.

“Sean, this is Laurie. He is a piss-taking fool. Laurie, this is Sean, my pupil.”

“You have my deepest sympathies,” Laurie says, a smile tugging at his lips. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and although it might be my imagination, he looks even thinner. His khaki shorts hang from his hips, and the yellow T-shirt’s stretched neck shows his prominent collarbone. I frown.

Unaware of my mood, Sean smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Laurie. Magnus has spoken a lot about you.” I flush, and Laurie directs a smug look at me. Unaware of the bomb he just dropped, Sean carries on. “Well, I must be off. I’m ordering room service and collapsing.”

I drag my attention from Laurie to find Sean looking between Laurie and me with an arrested expression on his face. He smiles at me. “Good night, Magnus. See you in the morning.”

“Bright and early. We need to go over closing statements again.”

He sketches a salute and lets himself into his room, leaving Laurie and I standing in silence.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, pleasure rushing through me.

I’ve spoken to him every night since I got here. At first, I tried to maintain a distance, but that was useless with him sending me funny texts all the time, so I’ve fallen into the habit of ringing him every night. I’ve told him funny bits about my days, and he’s made me laugh, and somehow, it’s made the time away fly. Seeing him in person, however, makes me realise how much I’ve missed him. I thrust that worrying thought away.

He grimaces. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I can go if you’d rather be alone.”

“No.” Endof cocks his head to look at me and I squirm. “No,” I say in a lower voice. “It’s nice to see you.”

We stand staring at each other for a second until Endof whines, and we both jerk our gazes towards him.

“Anyway,” Laurie says quickly, “I wanted to see how you were coping with Endof.”

“Really?” I’m unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

His eyes fly to my face, and he hesitates before saying in a low voice, “No, I just wanted to see you. I missed you.”

Warmth runs through me, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve reached heights in my career that few manage. I’ve been presented to the queen a few times and moved in very exalted circles, but nothing has affected me quite so much as this man saying he missed me. I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

“Well, come in,” I say far too heartily, judging by the tick of his lips. I let us into the suite.

He whistles. “Nice digs.”

I shrug. “I like the best. We’re staying here for a while, so I like to be comfortable.”

We’re staying at a grand old hotel overlooking the green expanse of Wollaton Park. It’s peaceful and quiet, which are two of my main prerequisites when I’m away working.

“Yes, how about that we? I couldn’t believe it when you said you were bringing him.” He watches as Endof prances over to his bed by the fireplace, his tail wagging. “You know I’d have looked after him.”

“He’s mine,” I say, flinging my suit jacket over the plush sofa and loosening my tie. “I always look after what’s mine.”

There’s a long silence that he breaks abruptly. “Do you mind that I’m here?”

I once again take in his appearance—the messy hair and the thin, angular face with violet shadows under his pretty eyes. “No,” I say curtly. “Come here.”

The moment hovers between dissolving into lightness or becoming heavy, but then he shudders and walks into my arms. I band them tight around him and kiss him fiercely. His mouth opens under mine immediately, and he gives a shaky sigh that makes my dick stiffen.

“I missed this,” he says, pulling back slightly.

“I missed you,” I say, pushing his hair back and looking into those sunlit green eyes. They’re red-rimmed today, with streaks of red marbling the whites. I frown. “Have you been working late? Your eyes are very red.”

He pulls back. “Yes,” he says quickly. “I needed to paint.”

“And have you finished?”

“I’m totally done.” His tone is gloomy rather than satisfied, and I wonder if he’s like this when he finishes a painting. Artists can be incredibly melancholy. I’d learned this after years of living in the same house as my mother and whoever she had staying with us.

I hate that he’s sad, and to avoid having a conversation in which I’ll inevitably make a fool of myself, I kiss him again, pulling him tight and grinding into him. His cock is hard against mine, and he gives a breathy moan.

“I’ve thought far too much about this,” he says, pulling back to take a breath.

“You need me,” I say arrogantly.

He doesn’t mock me. Instead, he raises his arms around my neck and lifts his mouth to mine. It’s an invitation I don’t hesitate to take.

Sex is oddly intimate this time. He lies on his side while I hold his leg up and fuck into him from behind. I always pay attention to my sexual partners’ needs, but ultimately I engage in the act because I’m seeking my own release. I’m all about making the right moves so we can both come, but then I quickly want to forget about my partner and get on with my life.

But tonight I take my time with Laurie. As my dick slides steadily in and out of his hole, I avidly watch his face, which is screwed into lines of pleasure. I love the way he lets himself go completely. He doesn’t seem to care about the way he might appear, nor does he seem deliberate or conscious in his actions. He’s focused solely on our pleasure, reaching back to touch me, putting his hand over mine where I grip his leg, twisting so I can kiss him and groaning into my mouth.

It’s intensely erotic lying in this dim room listening to the sounds of grunts, moans, and flesh slapping, and watching those light eyes go cloudy and unfocused. I pump my hips fiercely, watching myself slam into him and seeing his buttocks bounce.

My climax barrels down on me, but I have just enough presence of mind to fist his dick and give him two hard pulls. He cries out and shoots come over the sheets before I groan, coming hard and pushing into him as if I’m trying to meld our flesh together.

We lie gasping for a few seconds before I pull out of him, soothing him with a kiss as he makes a sound of distress. “I’ll get a cloth,” I say hoarsely. “Stay there.”

I make my way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—a stranger with a dazed expression on his face. Shaking my head, I grab a hand towel and wet it when the water is running nice and warm.

When I get back, Laurie is lying on his back. The sheets are rumpled and half pulled over one leg, but the slim length of him is bare to me, the evening light gilding his skin and highlighting the dark line of hair that trails from his belly button to bush out around his cock. Even his feet are elegant and high arched. I run my finger along the bottom of his sole as I pass, and he jerks.

“Wanker,” he says.

Laughing, I slide into the bed next to him and pass the cloth over his stomach, cleaning the come away. He watches me solemnly, his eyes hidden in shadow, but obediently opens his legs when I urge him, letting me clean between his legs.

“You’d make a lovely nurse,” he says.

I laugh again. “I would be the worst nurse in existence.”

He hums, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re probably right. Nurse Ratched would send you fan mail.”

I throw the cloth down on the floor and draw him to me. “You’re too thin,” I say. “When did you last eat?” He pauses to think, and I grunt in disapproval. “Ack, if you have to think about it, it’s too long. I’ll order room service.”

He twines his legs with mine. “Sounds lovely. Can I have steak? Is that too much?”

I shake my head. “You may have twenty steaks if you wish it. You don’t need to ask as if I’m penniless and will have to clean the kitchen to pay for your meal.”

“How about cheesecake? Can I have a big slice of cheesecake with fresh cream?”

I bite my lip to hide my smile. “Good heavens, slow it down a bit. I’m not made of gold, Laurie.”

He throws his arm over me and cuddles into me. “I did miss you,” he says, his breath stirring my chest hair.

I reach up and stroke his hair. It’s a clumsy gesture because I’m unused to tenderness, but he says nothing and just watches me with those soft eyes.

“What are we doing?” he finally says.

A long moment passes. “I don’t know. I think it’s probably a mistake, yes?”

His lips tighten. “No ties, Mags,” he says in a beseeching voice.

I swallow hard. “None whatsoever, Laurie.”

The words feel awkward in my mouth, as if my tongue has grown two sizes, but he smiles, looking relieved.

He falls back against the pillows as I order the food. Endof whines outside the bedroom door as if sensing that we’re able to give him our attention now, and I watch Laurie get up and open the door where the dog is waiting patiently. They come towards me, and I find my lip twitching into a silly smile. I bite the ridiculous thing away and finish my call.

“How’s the trial going?” he says, falling back into bed beside me. Endof jumps up and curls up on my other side. I pet his fur, enjoying the silkiness beneath my fingertips.

“I think we will lose,” I finally say. “I’ve done the very best I can, but little things like my client rather hamper us.”

“Ouch.” His eyes narrow. “Are you bothered? You don’t seem it.”

I shrug. “I’ve lost many cases, Laurie. It wouldn’t do my mental health much good if I cried over them all.”

“I bet you absolutely fucking hate losing,” he says wryly.

“I do. Of course, I do. I detest it. Particularly when I feel that the client is innocent.” I eye him. “I’ll feel this loss less than others.”

Realisation dawns, and he smiles. “Okay.”

My phone beeps and I stretch to pick it up, checking the screen and smiling.

His eyes darken for some reason. “That’s a rather shark-like smile. Who is it?” he asks, crossing his arms behind his head. His attempt at a smile looks more like a grimace.

“My Scrabble opponent.”

He gapes at me. “Your what?”

I eye him. “Scrabble. You have heard of it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, I’ve heard of it. I think Chris even mentioned that you played it. I’m just surprised to find Mags Carlsen, the scourge of the courtroom and twink’s bedrooms, is actually holed up in his bedroom playing Scrabble.”

“That’s probably because you are not very good at it,” I say in a lordly fashion. I watch the light of battle coming into his eyes with hidden amusement.

He sits up. “I’m actually very good at it,” he snaps.

I start to laugh. “Ah, there it is. The Gentry competitive spirit.” I tuck my tongue into the corner of my mouth and smile at him. “Care to have a game?”

He reaches out and hooks his shorts that have been flung over the lamp. Withdrawing his phone from the pocket, he presses a button. “Let me just get the app,” he says in a tone of grim determination.

I try to stop myself from laughing. “What did you think you’d find me doing?” I suddenly say.

He jerks in a startled fashion. “What?”

“When you arrived, what did you think I’d be doing?”

He looks suddenly awkward. “I don’t know. It could be anything, knowing you.”

“You do know me,” I say distractedly. I hesitate. “Would you have been bothered?” I ask, finally losing control over my tongue.

“Bothered about what?”

“If you’d found me with another man?”

He stares at me, his phone forgotten in his lap. The silence stretches, and I sit back, feeling suddenly disappointed.

“Never mind,” I say. “It was a foolish question.”

“Yes,” he says, the word breaking like a bullet through my words. “Yes. I’d have been bothered.” He holds my gaze for a moment before quickly glancing away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “And I shouldn’t be,” he says sharply. “It’s foolish.”

“Then I think we are both of us fools,” I say.

The soft words seem to melt his tension. He drops his hand and gives an awkward laugh. “No. Not going there,” he says and waggles his phone at me. “Food and Scrabble, Mags. We’re living the wild life.”

I nod and slide down next to him, but as we eat dinner in the wreck of the bed and trade quips and kisses sweetened by the chocolate cheesecake, something warm comes to rest in my chest. Something warm and worrying. I examine it later while he lies asleep curled into me, the moonlight on his face. Typically, this kind of emotion would send me running a hundred miles in the other direction, but now I just move closer to him and fall asleep.

He stays for breakfast the next morning, looking rested and younger, and we laugh and joke as usual, but when he’s gone, the silence filling the suite seems bigger somehow than just an empty room. I rub my chest and redirect my thoughts. Time to go to work.

But somehow, that feeling of warmth stays with me all day, allowing me to greet my loss in court with equanimity and an ease that’s completely alien to my competitive nature.