Page 37 of Mack

“Yes, I just hate being away from him.” She stopped in the middle of the room and looked at him. “Do you want coffee? I have decaf.”

“I’d love some.”

“Take off your coat. Turn on the TV.” She headed for the kitchen. “It’s only nine.”

“Mallory.” His voice was quiet behind her. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

She turned. “Is that an excuse to leave?”

“No. I just don’t want you to feel pressured. I know you don’t trust easily.”

She held his gaze. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

They stared at each other across the room. She wanted to trust Mack.

She crossed to him and took his hand. “I want to be with you, Mack.”

“How do you mean that?”

“In every way possible. I want you to take me bed.”

He looked at her carefully. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She held his hand and led him down the hall.

Inside the bedroom Mack lifted her as though she weighed nothing and settled her against the sheets with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger in his eyes. His hands found the hem of her sweater and her clothes fell away in pieces.

His mouth moved over her slowly, deliberately, mapping every curve before dipping between her thighs. She fisted her hands in his hair and stopped thinking about anything at all. The orgasm didn’t build so much as shatter, tearing through her in a wave that left her breathless and shaking.

Before she’d fully surfaced his mouth found hers again, deep and possessive, tasting of her. He shoved his jeans down and she reached for him, felt him thick and urgent against her palm, and stroked until a rough sound tore from his chest. He reached for the condom, but she took it from him, tearing the wrapper with her teeth and rolling it onto him with steady hands.

When he pushed inside her, she gasped at the fullness of it, the force, the depth, how he moved like he had something to prove. Her legs wrapped around him, and she matched him, thrust for thrust, giving back everything he gave her.

She hadn’t known it could feel like this. She hadn’t let herself know.

She cried out again as another orgasm hit her. When he came, she felt it, the pulse of him deep inside her, as his rhythm broke and he groaned. He buried himself to the hilt and held there, her name rough on his lips. She held him through it, legs still locked around him, hands pressed flat against his back, feeling every tremor that moved through him.

For a long moment neither of them moved.

He dropped his forehead to hers, breathing ragged, his weight a welcome heaviness against her chest. She could feel his heart hammering, or maybe that was hers. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

He rolled to his side, taking her with him, and she settled against his chest without thinking, like it was something they’d done a thousand times. His arm came around her, heavy and warm, his thumb tracing an absent path along her shoulder.

The room was quiet except for their breathing, slowly finding its way back to normal.

Mallory stared at what she could see from this angle, which was mostly the line of his jaw and the hollow of his throat. She should say something. She had no idea what.

Mack broke the silence first.

“You okay?”

Two words. Simple. She almost laughed.

“Yeah,” she said. “You?”

She felt the rumble of his response more than heard it. “Better than okay.”