Page 71 of Sight of Fate

She steps back and stares at the envelope in my hand.

“When you first got here, it was obvious you were running from someone. Instead of waiting for you to tell me, I decided to tackle it head-on and eliminate the threat. But first, I needed to know who you really were.”

Fear flits across her face as she continues to stare at the envelope.

“I ordered Susan to run your prints, and the report came back yesterday,” I confess, holding up the still-sealed envelope so she can see it’s intact. “But I couldn’t open it. The last thing I want to do is start our relationship by violating your trust. I want you to feel safe. To make this your home. So I’m giving you the report. I’m sorry I went down this path, and I know you’ll tell us when you’re ready.” I hand it to her. “I’m going to change for dinner.”

She takes it and tosses it on the console behind her, then she wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls me to a stop.

“Thank you. I know it’s hard for someone who’s used to taking charge of everything to wait, but it means a lot to me that you didn’t open it,” she says softly, brushing my hair back from my face. “And now I want to kiss you more than I did a minute ago.”

Her understanding and sweet confession have me dropping my head to capture her lips in an instant. Soft at first, I press mine against hers, learning their shape and texture, but the need for more builds quickly.

I swipe my tongue across her closed lips, and they part with an eagerness I didn’t expect. Sliding my tongue along hers, the taste of her makes me groan and deepen the kiss. I need her closer. Wrapping my arms around, I pick her up, bringing our mouths level. Better. Need sharpens to a delicious point, and I let a little trickle through, wanting her to know exactly how I feel.

She gasps and brings her legs up and around my waist. Her hesitation disappears, and her tongue meets mine with equal fierceness. A match to the inferno between us. The semi I’m always sporting around her hardens.

Face flushed, she tears her lips from mine and looks down at where I’m pressed against her center. She sucks in a breath and tentatively moves her body up and down, her eyes widening at the feeling. A little breathless moan follows.

Her innocence is almost my undoing. With my hand at her lower back, I thrust up, wanting her to feel every inch of me between her legs.

“Tell me we don’t belong together. That you aren’t my mate.” I pull her in for another deep kiss, stroking the fire to a fever pitch.

She whimpers, then gasps. “My mate.”

The impact those words have on me… My palm tingles, the bond urging me to claim her, but a voice inside cautions me to wait. I tear my mouth from hers.

“We need to stop. Before I do something you’re not ready for.”

Her hips stop moving, and her breath rushes out. “I didn’t expect. That was…”

“One hell of a first kiss,” I say, completing her sentence. Breathing heavily, I untangle her body from mine and help her stand until she’s steady. “Why don’t you grab a seat at the table? I’ll be back in a minute.”

She jerks her head around as if she forgot Macklin was in the room. Cheeks flushed, she glances at him, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry. I…I didn’t mean to hold up dinner.”

Macklin winks at her. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” He pulls back her chair and motions for her to sit down. “Besides, I was enjoying the sounds coming from your lips.”

Her head jerks to look at him, but her gaze falls to the obvious tent in his pants, and a strangled note slips from her throat.

His lips curl in satisfaction at her reaction. Pushing her chair in, he points to the salad. “Go ahead and start.”

Leaving them, I head to my bedroom to change into something a little less restricting than the jeans currently cutting off the circulation to a very vital part of me. I strip, ignoring my throbbing cock, and pull on a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt.

Macklin looks up when I return. “Did MacKenzie say how long it will take him to get to full strength?”

“A few days. He’ll need someone to stay with him. Monitor his progress,” I tell him, grabbing a seat and taking a few bites of salad.

“I’ll stay with him,” Macklin volunteers.

“We can take turns,” I say with a shake of my head.

“Let’s talk to him tomorrow. See what he wants to do.”

Charli frowns but says nothing. A few minutes later, she pipes up with a request.

“After dinner, would you call Elijah? I haven’t heard how the rescue went, and I don’t want to bother Sam if she’s with Covey,” she asks, her tone full of concern.

Macklin picks up his phone. “I’ll text him now.” After he hits send, he gets up and stacks her plate onto his. Carrying them to the kitchen, he exchanges them for a pasta bowl. “Here you go. Lemon ricotta pasta.” After placing the bread on the table, he sits down.