by Angel Payne
“Mac!”
“I’m not done yet. And yeah, I know this is the part where you like to tuck tail and run, but I’m not letting you do that anymore either.” I prodded at her scalp, making her head jog back to lock the oceans of her eyes with the resolution in mine. “We’re done hiding from the hard stuff.”
And still, the temptress summoned the cheek to roll out a seductive smile. “Well, thank God, because I love your hard stuff.”
“No,” I ordered at once, catching her by the wrist of the hand she reached down with, aiming to snag me by the crotch. “No. Give me more.”
She quirked a brow. “Greedy. You just had quite a lot of me.”
“You know what I mean.” I worked my thumb up, circling it into the middle of her palm. “Tell me you love me too. I know you do. You know you do. That pin dick you had lunch with even knows it.”
At once, her other brow leapt up too. “Pin dick?” She laughed.
“I’d bet a Benji on it. Not that you’ll be finding out, though. Ever.”
She returned her brows to normal, funneling my attention to the new lights in her eyes. The ones she didn’t want me to see. Those sky-blue glints, betraying how deeply my caveman act truly touched her. Not that she’d let me on to that anytime soon.
“Shit.” She pouted. “You can’t just order me to tell you I love you and make it so.”
I pushed my thumb in harder. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t work like that!”
“Why not?”
“Oh, my God.” She swung her face to the side, as if expecting to find one of her gal-pals waiting to lend commiseration. How little she really knew. If Claire, Margaux, or Talia were really standing here, they’d be doing so with a tapping toe and a censuring glare for their friend. They liked me. At least I thought so. What wasn’t there to like?
“All right, so what did I expect here?” she went on, half to herself. “I’m talking to a clown.”
“You can try to cover this up with all the sarcasm in your sexy-as-fuck brain, baby—but it’s not going to change this. It’s not going to alter what’s going on between us. I will not let you go again.”
She huffed. Canted her head around enough to shoot me half a glance of vexation. “I heard you the first thousand times.”
“Glad you finally listened. Now turn around and let me heal you.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She smacked her forehead with a loud crack. “Did you really just say that?”
I let my silence be her answer for an extended minute. The better part of another. At last I murmured, “Doctors used to be called healers by their villagers, you know.” I was almost done with my gentle cleaning of the blood, lingering longer than I actually needed to so I wouldn’t have to face my fears now—and watch her walk out of my office. Always wondering if it would be the last time. Always holding my breath, thinking she might never come back.
Linger.
Linger.
I swallowed, attempting to regulate my staccato heartbeat, before asking conversationally, “So…what are you doing this weekend? Maybe we can do something.” No way could I control the hopeful—dear fuck, even desperate—lilt to my tone.
When was the last time a woman made me feel this way?
The answer, from one of the secret corners of my soul, was terrifying.
Never.
“Let’s…ummm…play it by ear.” Taylor was being noncommittal, and I knew it was on purpose.
But I was much more determined to hold my ground, even if she was planning to drop the hammer on my dreams.
“Not good enough.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn’t let down my guard against this woman and her power of determination once she set her fiery spirit on something.
“Well, it’s the best I can do.” And then she shrugged as if she didn’t have a care in the world—even for me.
Crap.
“You can always make other plans, and I’d understand,” she said. Another shrug—driving in her point worse than the first.
“Why are you doing this?” I applied some antibiotic ointment to her bite and then covered it with a large Band-Aid. The second I was finished, she pushed to her feet and then crossed to where her T-shirt lay on the floor.
“Why am I doing what, exactly?” With a couple of graceful swoops, she pulled the thing over her head.
“You seriously don’t know?” I challenged. “Because you don’t have this shit down to a fucking science, woman?”
She ran a hand through her hair, attempting to shake out the tangles. Fucking goddess. “You’re the science man, Doc. Enlighten me.”
“Playing hard to get?” I couldn’t help but smack the desk in frustration. The action made her jump, and I instantly regretted the rash behavior, but I wasn’t standing down from the point. “You were just here, damn it. You felt what we have, Taylor—just like I did.” I copied her move, shoving a hand back through my own hair, albeit in frustration. “You’re making me crazy!”
And she certainly didn’t help my efforts otherwise with her quick snip of laughter. “I think you had some of that going on well before you met me, dude.”
I had an answer for that, but it was clutched tight in my throat. Instead, I simply stared at her. Hard. Then harder, letting the quiet of the room thicken like a damn death pall. Holy fuck, maybe it was. At least it helped to punctuate the gravity of what I had to say, muttering it as I parked my ass where hers just had been. “Fuck it. Just fuck it. The truth is…I’m scared to death.”
Well, at least that finally caught her whole attention. Taylor rushed back over, wasting no time in cradling my face in her hands. “Why?” she charged. “Why the hell would you say that?”
I raised my head. Formed my hands over hers, treasuring the feel of her skin against mine. “I’m petrified you’ll walk away from this moment and freeze me out again. I don’t think I can take another round of the Taylor Mathews Ice Age.” I swallowed and didn’t hide a single undulation of it. “I’m pretty fucking positive it’s more than I can bear, actually.”
“You’re going to be fine.” She rushed it out while pressing her fingers into my hairline. “We will be fine, Mac. But I can’t just go headlong into the wall again. That’s more than I can bear too, to use your words. We both really got hurt, and I don’t want to feel that way again. Ever.”
I turned my head, sliding my lips firmly against the center of her palm. Then the other. That was the most honest she’d ever been with me about her feelings. Taking the moment lightly wasn’t an option. “Thank you,” I finally whispered.
Her brows knit. “For what?”
“You know damn well what. And in return, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from hurting. Everything, Taylor. If you are in pain—any kind of pain—I will heal you. If I don’t do it with my hands, then with my heart. Let me be that for you, love. I’m on my knees here.”
She reacted as I anticipated—by directing a sardonic stare down the length of my body. I indulged her the dramatic moment, mostly because I was still half-clothed with my dick hanging out, but before she could slide in a glib remark about the whole thing, I sealed my lips over hers again. The kiss was full and deep and passionate, and after a few mutual tongue rolls, we were both groaning hard and deep with skyrocketing lust.
But as much as I wanted to take things further—along with a thorough round two with her lady parts—I had to clean up and get downstairs. I pulled back and kissed her closed eyelids, consumed with obnoxious male pride while she swooned from our contact. God, I relished doing that to her. It sent me to the moon and back too. I loved every speck of the physical effect I had on her—and had no hesitation about using it against her if I had to.
“Hey. Sassy…”
“Mmmm…?” she replied with a misty glow in her eyes.
“Regrettably, I need to get downstairs. Like five minutes ago.”
“Well, just tell Devon you were with me. She’ll forgive you. She lik
es me.”
“That she does. And who would blame her?” I quickly finished getting dressed by snagging my tie and white coat from the floor.
“I can find my way out,” she offered. “Get going so you’re not late.”
I shook my head. “I have to go down through the lobby anyway. Come on; I’ll walk with you that far.” I held the door open for her and made sure it locked behind us.
We held hands while we walked, just like we used to. We stole kisses in the elevator, groaning against one another’s lips when other people came on board. I kissed her knuckles as we landed on the lobby floor and the elevator doors slid open. A quick walk across the foyer and it was time to say goodbye.
But before we did…
“Promise me, Sassy.”
“Hmmm?” She looked up for an explanation.
“No Ice Age.”
Her gaze sobered. The look was exhilarating and terrifying to the pulse I still couldn’t regulate into normal territory. But at least she murmured, “I’ll…I’ll do my best.”
I stepped in, looming over her, and pressed a little kiss to her temple. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
“Just don’t hurt me again, Mac. We won’t survive. I won’t survive.”
“I know.” I took her lips beneath mine this time, with soft and committed purpose. “And I won’t.”
She pushed her head up toward me, seeking another kiss. I surrendered it with soaring elation—despite abhorring my job with a vengeance I never thought possible. Was this really me, resenting the crap out of the profession I loved so much? But I did, and I barely clamped back my raging roar.
But nothing mattered more in that moment than Taylor Mathews. We were teetering on the edge of a turning point. It was real. It was imminent. It was goddamned awesome. A few more hours in one another’s arms, and we’d truly be back on solid ground with each other.
“So…maybe I could come over tonight?” I just needed to be near her.
To my delight, her face lit up at the prospect—only to darken fast with disappointment. “Text me,” she muttered. “I’m supposed to go to the fucking gym with Talia, but I don’t know exactly what time yet. I swear, that wench is trying to kill me.”
Quick chuckle. “Okay, baby. I’ll talk to you later, then.” I relinquished the laugh in favor of getting to buss her one last time. She pulled away with an adorable giggle.
I mouthed the words I love you, and she smiled before turning for the door. I stood watching her as she went through the sliding-glass panels, the sun glowing around her silhouette like it’d been lucky enough to capture an angel in its beams. But who was I to argue the point, when it was so beautifully close to right?
Chapter Five
Taylor
The sun blazed high in the sky when I came out of the hospital, warming my skin to match the temperature of my heart. I hadn’t realized how badly I had missed Mac until I was in his arms. Well, maybe I knew deep inside, but I had a great way of denying what was right in front of me, even to my own detriment.
Searching through my bag for my sunglasses, I grabbed my phone and noticed the icons on the home screen.
“Sixteen messages… What the… That can’t be right,” I mumbled to myself as I crossed the lot to where Sally was parked. Thankfully the blood drive was over, so the Bloodmobile was no longer occupying a large part of the coveted spaces. The last thing I wanted was to do the walk of shame in front of John. I subconsciously reached for the bandage on my shoulder, grinning when I touched it through my T-shirt.
Fucking Maclain Stone. He was unraveling me, thread by thread, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be content until I was nothing but a patch of threadbare material, transparent to all those around me. I wanted to trust him again and recommit my faith in us. And yes, I went ahead and openly admitted it: I craved to have something together similar to what my friends had with their husbands. But more than that, I wanted it with Mac.
Only with him.
Oh, dear hell. I was truly a goner. And for a guy who was bossy and egocentric and arrogant and impossible—but also gentle and caring and protective and generous. There were so many facets to him—and incredibly, magically, I loved all of those sides. Yes, even the side that had me walking out of our lovemaking session with a bandage on my skin…after he took me to the most pleasurable heights I’d ever experienced.
Yeah—I especially loved that side of him.
My car didn’t have a fancy remote key, an alarm system, or even navigation. But Sally and I had a special bond, and after Mac came into our lives—and loved us both precisely for the girls we were—I felt even closer to her. Was it odd to be in a relationship with a vehicle? Not according to my favorite neurosurgeon—or Stephen King—but they probably shouldn’t be mentioned in the same conversation.
I waited for the engine to warm up a bit before pulling out, giving me time to look at my messages again. If any of the messages were new, I predicted most would be from Mac. He had an odd habit of leaving me multiple short messages instead of one long one, but it made me smile because it was an honest reflection of the way his brilliant mind worked. Short bursts of inspiration, supernovas of emotion or concern, all relayed the exact moment he felt them. No protective shells for him.
Yet another reason why the man was so damn good for me.
More than I wanted to admit—at least on this front.
I’d been trying, though. Like crazy. Working to gain confidence and celebrate the independence I’d achieved. Since the most recent “Save Janet” episode, I’d formed a new habit of always checking my caller ID first and had started letting her calls go to voicemail. Of course, I was still a Class A codependent, so I immediately listened to the message to make sure she wasn’t in danger. Still, it seemed like a step in the right direction. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
But really? Sixteen messages? And now I could see they were all from the same phone number. And it wasn’t Mac’s, unless he’d gotten a new line and had neglected to tell me before or after flying me to the orgasmic stars. The digits weren’t identified as belonging to any police or fire department either, so with half a relieved breath, I dismissed any crisis involving Janet.
Half a breath.
I hit the arrow to play the first message, putting my phone on speaker so I could safely start backing out—
And slammed the brakes at once.
Sally and I both lurched forward on the recoil from the abrupt stop. I was beyond caring, as a pleasant and friendly voice drifted through the car—and sent shivers down the middle of my back.
And not the good kind.
“Hey, beautiful. It’s John. I hope you don’t mind me calling. I got your number off your paperwork. I figured you wouldn’t mind, since we’re friends and all.”
“Excuse me?” I totally minded. It was such a breach of privacy, I could barely make my trembling body get the car back into motion to clear the way for the waiting car behind me.
“Anyway…” His voice trailed off for a few seconds, and then he seemed to remember he was still recording a message. “Oh, sorry. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for our lunch date today and tell you I really had a great time. I hope we can do it again sometime. Uh, okay, bye.”
The message itself seemed harmless, despite how my nerves discernibly frayed at his use of “lunch date,” but I massaged the steering wheel in a focused attempt to chill.
Before launching in on listening to the fifteen messages that still waited. All from John’s number.
Screw chill. I went ahead and let my stomach turn.
This was definitely not good.
Not. Good.
I had been explicit with the guy. I’d said, over and over, that I wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship with him.
Maybe they were butt dials?
Heartened, I pressed play again. The message was basically the same nonsense for the next two, all said in different ways. He had a great time at lunch. He was glad we were still frien
ds. Blah blah blah. Now I was getting annoyed.
Then I played the fifth one.
And it was different.
Back to the painful stomach twist. And everything else in my body along with it.
There was a shift in his voice. Something that made my skin prickle, my blood freeze, and my limbs go numb. Something about his tone and the general vibe of his message. He’d changed, and it was eerie.
“Taylor, it’s John again. Listen, I know you’re just playing hard to get. I know you have feelings for me. Why else would you have gone out to lunch with me today? I know you said you aren’t with Dr. Stone anymore, and that’s good. It would be a shame if something happened to him and you had to mourn his loss. But I’d be there for you. You could count on me. You can always count on me, Taylor. I’m always right here. Waiting for you. Have a good night, my love. I’ll see you soon.”
I was waiting at a light, which gave me ample opportunity for a gawk of sheer shock. “My love?”
The word I always gave Mac such shit for was suddenly an ice pick in my gut. Holy shit. When had John decided to chug his crazy train into my fucking station? And honestly, why?
I dreaded listening to the other eleven messages, but morbid curiosity got the better of me. By the time I played the last of the guy’s voicemails, I had to pull off to the shoulder of the 163 just to regain my composure. My hands were trembling too hard to drive safely.
“Taylor, my love. I must say before you lay your beautiful head down tonight, I hope you dream of me. Your lover. Dream of me showing your mind, your body, your very soul how much I adore you, how I’ll care for you, cherish you. I can’t wait to finally feel you around me in the most intimate ways. Sweetest dreams, my love.”
I lowered my head to the steering wheel, though I contemplated dropping it all the way between my knees. Nausea clawed at me and swirled with terror welling in my throat. While John hadn’t directly threatened me, his off-the-rails rambling and his veiled threat at Mac were enough to churn my gut and fire my rage. I’d known plenty of frustrated fury in my life, but John had just jabbed at depths I never knew existed. Worse, I felt helpless to do anything about them.
