𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐲: "𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞; 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫."
NEW YORK, 1967
It's 1967 and Margot Murdock's life is falling apart. I...
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CW: oral sex, teasing, masturbation, James wearing Margot's panties.
I wanted to give you guys something with this book. This is a shorter chapter, but it's packed with lots of stuff <3
JAMES
JAMES'S APARTMENT, HELL'S KITCHEN
When I was a kid, I used to sit on the bathroom counter while my mom would get ready in the mornings. She'd take her hair out of her rollers and comb it out fifty times exactly with a big paddle brush. Then, she'd cover her face with some kind of cream and let it soak in while she'd hum a song and smother me with kisses. After that, she powdered her face, and grabbed a tiny gold tube of lipstick that she'd put on her lips and cheeks.
It was like a ritual. She always did everything the same way, and laid it out on the bathroom counter in the exact same position.
I was a quiet observer to this ritual, and as time dragged on, I realized that it was a privilege to observe something this private and personal.
Margot's ritual is much messier than my mother's was. She has more stuff. Eyeshadow, powder compacts, powder puffs, mascara, fake eyelashes, and pale pink lipstick. But her methods are no less meticulous. Right now, she's dragging a thin line across her lid, carefully winging it out before she takes a step back, wearing nothing but a pair of panties.
I'm in my boxers and nothing else. We decided to take our time getting ready this morning and really like a high powered defense team.
She turns to me and closes her eyes.
"Does it look even?"
We have court this afternoon. Peggy Carter is going to be submitting her plea of not guilty, and I'm goddamn determined to prove that she did what she did after years of brutal abuse at the hands of her husband. It's been my hardest case, but I failed Kurt. He's dead because of me.
I'll never say it out loud because Margot would argue with me until her face turns blue, but I know it's the truth. Every time I lose a case, it makes me fight harder for the next one.
And this one has been brutal, reading over police reports and Peggy's interviews.
But Margot has been... Well, probably the best distraction a man could have.
I lean forward, examining the wings she's drawn.
"Open your eyes?" I ask.
Thick, dark lashes flutter as I'm greeted with those eyes that remind me of my favorite whiskey. For a second, it's hard to focus on her makeup because I just want to drink her in. But they're even. She's good at this.
"You look gorgeous."
She rolls her eyes.
"James, that's not what I asked. I asked if they were even."
