Skin (McCullough Mountain 2)

by Lydia Michaels

  It was strange. Suddenly, when she measured her value in accordance with the shape of her body, things stopped adding up. That was shaky ground. It only made sense to believe Finn was attracted to the new her. The old her was gross. But there wasn’t much of a difference, was there?

  She was her hardest critic. Some rational side of her commonsense stood up for her battered self-esteem and seemed to be speaking up more and more, telling her it didn’t matter if she was thirty pounds lighter or a hundred pounds heavier. He liked her for her. She didn’t trust this new theory and it scared her. All his compliments were starting to confuse what she always believed to be true.

  Her clothes were falling off her hips and she took great pride in bagging things up for charity. Tonight she was going to the mall to buy herself a new outfit. She wouldn’t go nuts, because she wasn’t stopping her progress, and would soon need to buy new clothes again. But she wanted something pretty to wear if Finn asked her out that weekend.

  After work she did her run, showered, went to the bank, and then headed to the mall. When she lived in the city her pants had been anywhere between a size twenty-two and twenty-six. There were no words to describe what it felt like to walk out of the store carrying size eighteen jeans. Eighteen!

  On the ride home her phone was buzzing like crazy, all texts from Finn. She couldn’t answer, because she was driving, but the rush of being in such high demand was euphoric.

  When she pulled up at her place it was dark, but there was no missing the reflection of her headlights in the taillights of his truck. Adrenaline pumped through her as she climbed out of the car and walked around the corner of the building.

  She hadn’t seen him for a few days and her heart raced with anticipation. There he was. Beautiful. Her boyfriend.

  He smiled and stood from where he was lounging on the bottom three steps. “Hey, beautiful.”

  That was her name for him, but he could borrow it. He made her feel beautiful. “Hey.”

  His gaze traveled to the bags in her hands. “Go shopping?”

  “Yes.”

  He approached and she watched mesmerized. Only cowboys could get away with that sort of swagger—cowboys and McCulloughs. He relieved her of her bags and kissed her lightly on the lips. It took all of her might not to swoon or rape him on the spot.

  He followed her up the stairs and with each step something potent tightened inside of her. He was finally there. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door. The moment she stepped inside he dropped the bags and gripped her shoulders. Her back hit the wall and his mouth was on her.

  Deep, hard, thrusts of his tongue expressed how much he’d missed her. She sifted her fingers through his soft hair and fisted, loving the soft weight between her knuckles. His growl was swallowed by their kiss as he proceeded to take over, claiming her mouth, sending shivers up her spine.

  Something hot and molten unfurled inside of her. She shaved that morning and wanted him to touch her. Not get fully naked, but she really wanted to feel his rough palm chasing chills over her flesh.

  Then there was his flesh. She could touch him too. Her hands bunched up the soft cotton of his shirt and landed on hot, firm skin. She gripped his hip, peeking out just above the thick leather belt at his waist, and he moaned.

  Her senses were getting carried away and she was about to do something incredibly stupid when he backed away. His thumb pressed over her kiss-swollen lips and he whispered, “I missed you, Philly.”

  “I missed you too. I couldn’t answer your texts because I was driving.”

  “I figured. Did you eat?”

  “I haven’t had dinner yet. Do you want me to cook something?”

  His smile turned into something spectacular. She wanted to know what he was thinking. “What?”

  “I like that you cook. Not that it’s a requirement, but I just…like it. My mom always cooked for my dad and all of us kids. Nowadays it isn’t easy to find a woman willing to take up that role.”

  “Settle down. I meant I’d cook you a meal, not change my life and turn into Donna Reed.” She turned and started pulling out pans and items from the cabinets.

  Truth be told, she didn’t mind cooking, especially for a guy like Finn who enjoyed eating so much. She understood what he meant. There was something to be said for a woman willing to take care of her man and family. Finn was an old fashioned kind of guy so she could understand why he found that attractive. “Did Erin cook for you?”

  Before she could pull the words back they were out.

  He cleared his throat. “Not really. She liked to eat out a lot. What are you making?”

  She unfolded the butcher paper and showed him. “I picked up Tilapia. I was going to make it with some lemon and herbs.”

  He came around the counter and wrapped his arms over her waist. She sucked in as he kissed her shoulder. “You take good care of me. Can I help?”

  “Uh, sure.” She rolled her shoulder causing him to step back. She needed to think when she cooked and she couldn’t think when he touched her. “I was also going to make broccoli. You can wash it off.”

  They worked around each other in the small kitchen. Finn asked questions and was very helpful. However, he did steal food right off the pan. When they sat down she opened a bottle of wine and they feasted.

  “This is amazing,” he said over a mouthful of fish.

  “Thanks. It’s one of my favorites. Tilapia tastes good with anything.”

  They finished eating and sipped their wine, making small talk. The sexual tension worked like static electricity, tripping over every nerve she had. She wondered if it was one-sided or if he was feeling it too.

  There was a very naughty side to her that wanted to do very bad things to him, but her self-image always seemed to intervene just in time. The pull to explore his body was becoming more difficult to ignore by the minute.

  Finn set his glass down with a hard click and her gaze jerked to his. Tight breaths filled her lungs as they stared at each other in silence. What was he looking at? Did she have food on her face? She self-consciously wiped her cheek. When he stood, the motion was abrupt and he jostled the table. A heartbeat later he was in front of her and she knew he was going to kiss her.

  Staring up at him, she waited, but he didn’t lean in. His hand slowly lifted to her face and her stomach sunk. Crap, she probably did have something on her face. His hand cupped her jaw, not to wipe away food, but to simply caress her. Rough, calloused fingers tripped over her soft skin. Her lashes lowered and she leaned into his warm palm and moaned.

  “Shit, Philly, I may not be able to stay long tonight.”

  Her eyes shot open. “Why?” She didn’t want him to go.

  “Because I can’t think straight around you. I want…” He shook his head as though he was waging some internal war. “You.”

  Her breath caught. Oh, the naughty Mallory was coming out. She placed her napkin on the table and slowly stood. Taking his hand she led him to her room and shut the door. They stood at the foot of the bed and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Never before in her life had she felt such a potent pull to a man.

  You cannot have sex with him!

  I know!

  Leaning up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, and the core of the earth seemed to crack open and swallow them whole. His hands tightened on her as they fell onto the bed. Mouths, lips, and teeth clashed together as they kissed passionately.

  Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt and she found utopia. Sculpted muscles curved his chest. His abs showed like Jacob’s ladder. Tanned skin met her fingertips as she explored him. He was utterly perfect. Her mouth kissed over his Gaelic tattoo and he cupped the back of her head as he stretched out beneath her touch.

  She nipped and kissed at his belly smiling when she found his ticklish spot, taking an extra moment to tease him. When she tormented him past his limit, he rolled, and flipped her onto her back. His lips set in an evil grin as he lowered his mouth and kissed her slowly. />
  With drowsy eyes, he gazed down at her and tugged at the collar of her shirt. “Can I take this off?”

  Her heart clamored against her ribs. She swallowed. “Sure. Shut off the light.”

  His brow creased. “Then I won’t be able to see you.”

  “Exactly.” She leaned over to hit the bedside lamp and he caught her hand.

  “I want to see you, Mallory.”

  She gave him a pleading look. “No, you don’t.”

  “Uh, yeah…I do.”

  “Finn—”

  “Let me see you.” He kissed her softly, persuasively.

  “No.”

  “Are we going too fast?”

  “No.”

  “Then…” The question fell away. “I see what this is.” He shook his head and it was obvious she’d upset him.

  Quickly trying to explain, she said, “I’m just not comfortable being naked.”

  “Do you think anyone is? We all have insecurities. They shouldn’t exist between lovers.”

  “But we aren’t lovers. At least, not yet.”

  “And when we are, will we only do it under the covers with the lights off? Because I got to tell you, Mallory, I’m not about that.”

  Weight settled on her chest. She wasn’t trying to be ridiculous. It was like paralysis. She simply couldn’t abide him seeing her naked. Every time she’d ever had sex her shirt had remained on and it was always in the dark. Her breasts were big and awkward and she could never relax enough to enjoy them being touched.

  In a desperate act to distract him from her flaws, her hand went to the buckle of his belt. “We can do something else with the lights on.” He caught her arm, his eyes set in disbelief, and her desperation morphed into shame.

  “No. I don’t want that from you. Especially not when you’re using it to divert my attention, Mallory. Sex in any form of manipulation is a turn off to me.”

  Swallowing tightly, she nodded, and withdrew her hand from his zipper. She usually experienced that self-deprecating sense of regret the morning after, but with Finn it was smack dab in the middle of what they were doing. Why did she just do that? She felt dirty and not in a good way. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” he snapped. “What happened? We were enjoying ourselves and everything just went wrong.” He shook his head. “Let’s rewind for a second. Come here.”

  He tried to pull her close, but she tilted her head away like a disgraced dog.

  “Mallory, look at me.”

  She blinked at him with glazed eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying that! If you’re too in your head while I’m touching you then I’m the one doing something wrong.”

  She gasped. “What? You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s me.”

  “And what did you do? Tell me what you did, because I see it in your eyes, and I know you’re punishing yourself right now.”

  She nearly choked. “I don’t know,” she mumbled lamely, knowing exactly what was in her head but not having the right words to express it. Disgust. Self-loathing. Insecurity. Fat! It had absolutely nothing to do with him.

  “Mallory, talk to me. It’s just us. You can say whatever you’re thinking.”

  She shook her head. No she couldn’t.

  He cupped her cheeks and she realized tears had started to fall. She was ruining everything. “Talk to me, Philly,” he whispered and she had the urge to run away.

  “I just wanted to please you.”

  “You do please me,” he said emphatically.

  “I don’t want to see disappointment in your eyes when…I thought if I could distract you…”

  He made a sound between a gasp and hurt, perhaps there was a tinge of disbelief as well.

  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I’ve never been comfortable in my own skin.”

  His expression showed sympathy, but he didn’t comment. She went on. “I’m…” Crap, she was really going to admit this. “I’m afraid if you see me naked you’ll leave a Finn shaped hole in the door.”

  He laughed. “That’s crazy talk. I see you all the time and I haven’t run yet. Besides…unless something’s chasing me…” He shrugged and she chucked. “I know what you look like, Mallory. Everything I’ve seen has only made me want to get closer to you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her breath was staggered as she glanced up at him. There was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Why was this so hard for her?

  Realizing there was no postponing the inevitable, she stood. Taking a deep breath, she caught the hem of her shirt and slowly lifted it over her head. Her eyes sealed shut as the material hit the floor. The bed squeaked and she imagined herself standing in her white lace bra and him gathering his shoes and quietly leaving.

  She flinched when his fingers grazed the exposed skin of her shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered and her expression tightened. For some reason those words caused a physical ache inside of her.

  It felt like a lie, but sounded like truth, which made it cut a thousand times deeper. She couldn’t abide Finn’s pity and the chance that he was lying to her, because he somehow felt responsible for her inner turmoil, slayed her. Her head started to shake in denial, but he caught her chin in a firm grip.

  “Yes,” he said sternly. “Beautiful.”

  When she opened her eyes his gaze was searching hers. He wasn’t even looking at her belly or her breasts. He was looking into her soul. It was then that she realized he was telling the truth. He saw her as beautiful. The dose of honesty wasn’t too hard to swallow, because it was quickly followed with her private admission.

  I love him.

  Stretching her arms behind her back, she undid the clasp of her bra and dragged the straps down her arms, letting it fall to the floor. Finn never took his eyes off of hers. His hand slowly slid down her arm to her fingertips. A soft caress whispered up her side and her flesh was suddenly engulfed in the warmth of his palm.

  She sighed as his thumb slowly traced over her turgid nipple. His lips found hers and he kissed her slowly. Her passion had been banked to make room for something so much more.

  Her body quivered as he touched her with gentle hands and soft lips. He pulled her to the bed and slowly eased her to her back. His hands trailed over her arms as he settled on top of her. She was grateful his body offered some sort of shelter.

  “Kiss me, Mallory.”

  Her lips met his with barely restrained esteem. Only he could do this to her, push her to face her demons and loan her courage to carry on. At the press of his erection through the barrier of both of their pants, she realized he was aroused and it wasn’t an act.

  As if heaven opened up, assurance washed over her and she gripped his shoulders. The kiss deepened as his hands did amazing things to her breasts. She arched and moaned as his mouth captured her nipple. Every caress, every touch, liberated her a little bit more. Then something incredible happened.

  Tightness coiled in her lower abdomen. Nothing like the rapid twitch she felt when she got herself off. This was molten and languid and oh so decadent. He suckled her breasts and the pulling continued. Like slow waves, it built and built until her legs were trembling and she was crying out.

  His arms wrapped around her back and he held her as she came apart. Thirty years old and she’d just experienced her first orgasm from a man.

  The scruff of his jaw rubbed over her shoulder as he kissed her throat. “You’re so responsive,” he whispered. “That was beautiful.”

  She was speechless. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. He reached for the covers, pulled them up to their shoulders, and curled her into his side.

  She should probably do or say something, but she had no idea what. Didn’t he need to come? Men usually got grumpy when they didn’t come.

  His fingers combed through her hair and as much as she wanted to resolve the unattended issues, her body wanted to sleep. She shut her eyes, there in her boyfriend’s arm with nothing but pants on, and let her mi
nd rest.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Finnegan McCullough, you had better have some good answers for why it’s dawn and I’m just settin’ eyes on your face now! Nothin’ but trouble’s open after two, and I want some answers!”

  Finn winced as his mother scared the hell out of him as he crept in the front door. Jesus, was that the wooden spoon in her hand? “Christ, Ma, I’m twenty-eight years old! Are you gonna beat me with that spoon?”

  “If I like. Where were you?”

  “Out.”

  “Don’t feed me that rubbish. Who were you with?”

  “Friends.”

  “What friends? Kelly said he hadn’t seen you last night. Were you with Erin?”

  His gaze jerked back to the living room where he was almost free. “No. I wasn’t with Erin. We broke up a few weeks ago and we won’t be getting back together.”

  Her gaze studied him. “The city girl?”

  “Her name is Mallory, and yes, I was with her.”

  This seemed to please his mother greatly, but her wide smile suddenly turned into a scowl. “Finnegan, love, I sure hope you didn’t do anything stupid. A good girl deserves respect. I didn’t raise my boys to run around fornicating all hours of the night.”

  He threw up his hands. “Jesus, Ma! I wasn’t fornicating and I wish you and Dad would stop using that word.”

  “What were you doing then?”

  “Sleeping. I didn’t mean to stay this late, but we fell asleep after dinner. I’m still tired, so I’m going to bed now. Please put the spoon away.”

  He turned and his mother mumbled something about her sons being sluts. If only she knew how unslutty he had been last night. His shit still hurt. Rather than heading to his room, he hooked a left at the top of the steps and headed to the bathroom. He needed some relief.

  After his shower, he fell into bed, but couldn’t sleep. His mind filled with visions of Mallory. He understood why she was self-conscious. She wasn’t built like the women plastered all over the media, but in his mind she was built better. It was amazing touching a woman who actually had breasts.