Skin (McCullough Mountain 2)

by Lydia Michaels

  She was soft and curvy and he still could not believe he made her come without penetration. He would have accused her of faking it, but the shock that registered in her eyes showed she was as surprised as him.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave. When he woke up with her partially naked and warm in his arms, he’d wanted to stay there and touch her some more, but he knew his mother would be worried since he hadn’t told anyone where he was going.

  Sighing, he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling. The tightness in his cheeks told him he hadn’t stopped smiling the whole ride home. Part of him, after spending time with Mallory, wondered why he’d been so stupid to stay with Erin all those years. They shared none of the chemistry he and Mallory shared. However, as he was grateful Mallory’s experiences led her here, he supposed he had to be equally grateful Erin had kept him off the market.

  They were so different. He’d thought Erin was the best he could do. He thought their sex was pretty good. Every foundation he’d assumed was wrecked after one night with Mallory and they hadn’t even had sex. Being with Mallory topped every experience he’d ever shared with Erin. Their chemistry was simply off the charts, but it was so much more than that.

  Mallory was real. She had feelings and emotions and struggled to communicate them as best she could. Erin never did anything but complain. Mallory always asked about his family and took them into consideration, but Erin…they were polar opposites.

  All morning, as he contemplated his new relationship and newfound happiness, he kept stumbling over the same conclusion and tossing it away. He’d spent ten years with Erin and although they’d said they loved each other in high school and here and there, it held the same sentiment for him as it did when he told his friends.

  Now those words, like everything else, took new meaning. He wanted to say them to Mallory, but feared he’d scare her. Was it possible to fall in love so fast? He wasn’t thinking about marriage…well, maybe a little. It was just so easy to see Mallory in a home that wasn’t built yet, smiling as she made dinner, and chased the kids out of the way.

  “Fuck.”

  He rubbed his palms over his face. His brain was moving way too fast. Maybe he needed to put a little space between them, get a grip on his emotions. That’s what he would do. Although, whenever he tried to stay away from her, his desire for her only became so much more intense.

  “Shit.”

  Should he blow her off tonight and go out with friends? He grimaced. He didn’t want to hang out with anyone but her. He also didn’t want to smother her. If other people were around, that would be fine, so long as she was there. He wanted to gorge himself on her. Would he get tired of her then? Maybe he should be more worried about her getting sick of him.

  * * * *

  Finn made it to three o’clock that afternoon before texting Mallory.

  Hey, Philly. What are you up to?

  ~F.

  Just got back from my run. About to shower. Are we going out

  tonight?

  ~M.

  Yes. Where would you like to go?

  ~F.

  The pub? IDK. You choose.

  ~M.

  At seven he headed to her place to pick her up. The entire ride to Mallory’s apartment, he gave himself a pep talk about keeping it in his pants and not letting his words get away from him. He felt pretty secure in his plan until Mallory opened the door and he saw what she was wearing.

  Her legs were encased in tight black jeans and boots that went up to her knee. Not boots like those ugly wooly things girls wore. No. These were black, sexy as hell, Wonder Woman boots.

  Her shirt was some flouncy pink thing that showed just the right amount of cleavage to make his jaw unhinge. And her hair was pulled up in some fancy twist thing with little sexy wisps falling down here and there. He was done for.

  “Hi,” she said as he stepped into her apartment.

  He leaned in to offer a chaste kiss. “Hi.” He cleared the gravel out of his throat. “You look pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  He was amazed she didn’t argue with him or show any signs of disagreement. The thought that she might feel pretty was very satisfying. He liked to think that maybe his honesty with her and constant reminders that she was beautiful might have helped her see herself as she really was.

  “I thought we could go to that Mexican place for dinner. Then, if you’re up for it, we could swing by O’Malley’s and see what everyone’s up to.” He needed to prolong returning to her apartment. All he could picture was Mallory in those boots and nothing else.

  “Okay. Let me get my jacket. It got cold today.”

  He turned and faced the door because his stupid boot fantasy was making him hard. “Yeah. Winters are pretty brutal here. I hope you have a good coat.”

  “Got a good man,” she said, sneaking up beside him and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “He keeps me warm.”

  She perched up on her toes and traced her lips over his, teasing him with her tongue. He cleared his throat and put his hands on her shoulders. “If you want dinner, we better go.”

  She frowned, but nodded.

  The ride to the restaurant was quiet. She asked about his day, but he had nothing exciting to report. She asked if they could go climbing again and he said sure. Other than that he was lost in his head. Terms of endearment and love cluttered his mouth to the point he was afraid to speak. Mentally he was a mess and physically he was even worse.

  Just tell her.

  He couldn’t say he loved her. It was too soon and he didn’t have the confidence to believe she could love him back so soon. He didn’t want to cloud their relationship with lies and couldn’t bare her saying it back out of a sense of obligation. He wasn’t being honest, but he also wasn’t lying. He’d just keep his mouth closed so he didn’t screw up the first good thing he had.

  As he held her door and she climbed down from the truck cab he noticed her boots again. “Are they new shoes?”

  “Yup. This is the outfit I bought Friday. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, it’s nice,” he said, shutting the door and quickly turning away so as not to give away how much he liked it. He was hard as a rock.

  When he took her hand and started walking she tugged him back. “Finn, what’s wrong?”

  He looked away and rubbed his neck with his free hand. “What? Nothing. Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  As the waiter took their order, Mallory was quiet. She didn’t have the smile she had earlier in the evening and he sort of felt responsible. Reaching across the table he took her hand. “You okay?”

  She nodded unconvincingly.

  Their food came and he devoured his steak fajitas while she seemed to enjoy her grilled bass. After dinner she had a glass of wine while he had a beer and the silence was getting to him. When she excused herself to use the bathroom, he flagged down the waiter and asked for the check. They needed to be around more people.

  When she returned from the bathroom, he stood and handed over her purse. She frowned and glanced at her glass of wine. Shit. It wasn’t even half empty. She could get another one at the bar.

  He held her door as she got into the truck and when he started the engine he said, “O’Malley’s?”

  “Maybe you should just take me home.”

  His gaze jerked to her as heavy sadness filled him. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

  “Mallory…I’m having fun. I just…” He shook his head and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m being weird tonight. I didn’t want to come on too strong, that’s all.”

  She laughed without humor. “You have a funny way of showing it, McCullough.”

  He took her hand and squeezed gently. “I swear, the last thing I want to do is take you home.”

  She coughed. “Wow. Okay.”

  “No! That’s not what I meant. I just mean…Fuck. I’m saying everything wrong. I want to take you home, but I don’t want to do anything
you aren’t ready for. I wanted to take you out and show you a good time first—not first—just show you a good time period. Nothing else has to happen. I’m not expecting anything.”

  She scowled at him. “What are you saying, Finnegan? You aren’t indebted to me. If you want to drop me off, drop me off. I’m not going to attack you.”

  Why was everything he said coming out wrong? “I don’t want to drop you off.”

  “Then why are you acting different? Look, I know we…messed around last night, but if you’ve had a change of heart, just tell me.”

  He did have a change of heart, just not the way she suspected. “Mallory, nothing’s changed. I’m just having some issues.”

  “Issues with what?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid if we go back to your place I won’t be able to walk away this time.”

  When she didn’t say anything he glanced over his hand at her. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide. “What?” she rasped.

  He shifted uncomfortably. He’d been hard for over twenty-four hours. It was getting to the point that he thought someone slipped him a pill. “I’m saying I want you. I want you bad and then I show up and you’re wearing that sexy fucking outfit and those Wonder Woman boots and—”

  “Wonder Woman wore red boots.”

  “You know what I mean. You look incredible. I’m afraid to be alone with you, because I don’t know how in control I am right now.”

  She laughed. “You’re afraid to be alone with me, because you’re afraid we might have sex?”

  “Yes. But it’s more than that. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  Her scowl returned. “What idea is that?”

  “This is going to sound clich��, but the idea that I might just be using you, because I’m not.”

  When she was quiet he knew it was because she’d already considered that and it pissed him off. He was fucking head-over-heels for her and she thought there was a chance it was all bullshit. That was exactly why he couldn’t sleep with her yet.

  “I see,” she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest and facing the windshield. “So what happens now?”

  “I figured we could go to the pub and have a few drinks.”

  “Because intoxication detours lust? I’m sorry, in my opinion, it has the opposite effect.”

  “I won’t come in when I drop you off. I mean I’ll walk you to the door, but that’s it.”

  Her head lowered and she suddenly looked sad. “Okay.”

  He turned her chin and stared into her eyes. “Make no mistake, Mallory. I want you. This has nothing to do with the opposite and everything to do with me trying to be a gentleman.”

  She offered a half-smile. “Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

  “Don’t say things like that,” he rasped. “Unless you mean it. I’m holding on by a thread here.”

  * * * *

  Mallory weighed the sincerity in his eyes. He actually looked sort of desperate, like he was about to lose it. At first she thought her outfit was too much. It took a lot of guts for her to wear fitting clothes and when he didn’t go overboard with compliments she began second-guessing everything, as usual. Now she realized she’d been way off. Maybe.

  Crap. She didn’t know what to believe.

  There were two possibilities here. One, he was lying and making up all this crap so that he could avoid going home with her—a very not nice scenario. Or, two, he really did want her that much that he was in borderline pain trying to be a gentleman.

  She glanced at his crotch. The truck was dark, but there was a bulge there. Finn wasn’t a small guy, though. She’d never seen him naked. Maybe that’s just how he always was. The thought gave her chills.

  “Are you hard?” She gasped and covered her mouth as the words fell out.

  He choked and even in the dark she saw his face flush. “Philly, I’ve been in pain for over twenty-four hours. I passed hard yesterday.”

  Her thighs clenched as a soft rhythm throbbed in her sex. She cleared her throat again. “Then, maybe you better take me home after all.”

  He sighed, and the sound was laced with defeat.

  She stared out the front window and said with all the courage she could muster, “But maybe you better stop at the store first.”

  “Do you need something?”

  “You need condoms.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The door slammed shut and Finn slid behind the wheel, a tiny, black bag in his hand. He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, shoulders tense as he gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead.

  Was she sure? No. Yes. No. Maybe. Absolutely. While he ran in the store, she’d compiled a fairly reasonable list of reason why she should sleep with Finnegan McCullough.

  One, he was the hottest man she’d ever set eyes on. Two, he apparently wanted to have sex with her. Three, she would do it eventually anyway. Four, he gave her butterflies that tickled her insides more than anything she’d ever felt. Five, she was in love with him—a dangerous truth, but true all the same.

  The list went on and on. Reason thirty-six, he had abs like a Greek god. Reason fifty-seven, he smelled like bottled heaven. Reason one hundred and one, that sexy dimple he got when he smiled.

  It was a very convincing list, but her list of fears and reasons to run for the hills was also quite convincing. One, he could obliterate her heart. That was basically it on the con-list, but it was a big one.

  They both seemed to be breathing loudly. She stared unblinking at the dashboard and said, “Yes.”

  They each appeared incapable of eye contact. It was a surprise when she felt his hand wrap around her fingers resting on the seat and give her a little squeeze. She turned and stared at him. Slowly, he faced her in his seat.

  There was no cocky, player glint in his eyes, no pre-assumed edge of victory. It was then she understood this was big to him, possibly as monumental as it was for her.

  He’d only ever slept with his high school sweetheart and she’d only ever had quickies in the dark with meaningless acquaintances she’d hoped to never see again. Those rules wouldn’t apply to Finn. She was growing addicted to his presence in her life and she’d have to face him in the morning.

  He would understand, once and for all, she was nothing like Erin or any other girl. He’d finally get to experience her, all of her.

  He slowly backed out of the store parking lot and they drove in silence. When he parked outside of her place the truck shut off and the only sound was the quiet pinging of the engine cooling. Dear God, what if she sucked at sex?

  Panic had her heart racing. What if she was slow and awkward when he wanted fast and hard? What if she didn’t make the right sounds or was too loud? What if she got sweaty or if he—

  Stop it!

  Her hands fisted on her lap. She jumped as he opened the passenger door. He seemed nervous. Maybe he was having second thoughts.

  His gaze was lowered, lashes forming purple crescent shadows on his cheeks under the streetlight.

  “We don’t have to do this if you changed your mind,” he said quietly. “I mean, I want to. I want you more than I think I’ve ever wanted a woman, but I don’t want you with reservations. It’ll keep, Philly. What I feel for you won’t diminish if we say goodnight right here, right now and decide to hold off a while.”

  It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Where did he come up with such perfect words? No one had ever made her feel so…wanted, right, worthwhile.

  As she slowly faced him, she saw not the strong, sexy mountain man she’d bumped into in the woods several weeks back, but the stunning man inside. The one not everyone knew. She knew him. She got a side of Finnegan McCullough others often overlooked. He thought he was ordinary, but he was so perfectly simple, so perfectly sweet, he was everything a girl needed. She needed him.

  “Just…be patient with me,” she whispered, showing him with her eyes how much she
wanted this, but that she still had vulnerabilities that could throw her.

  Leaning in, he tenderly pressed his lips to hers, and all fear subsided. There was no way a man could fake such affection. It was surreal, believing he truly wanted her.

  They held hands and took the steps slowly side-by-side. He relieved her of the keys and unlocked the door. Where had her voice gone?

  She removed her jacket and placed it on the back of a kitchen chair. Clearing her throat in the silent apartment, she said, “Just give me a minute in the bathroom, okay?”

  He nodded.

  She went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror. She looked slightly different from the girl she left behind in Philly. Her jaw had narrowed and her cheeks were more defined. Her hair had grown in a bit. She undid her bun and let her hair fall over her shoulders.

  Shaky fingers unzipped her boots and she stepped out of them, shrinking three inches. She undid her jeans and slid them off her legs. Taking a deep breath, she removed her shirt and folded it on the corner of the sink.

  It wasn’t easy to face her reflection, but with a slow turn she pivoted. Opening her eyes she tried to see herself, truly see her, the way Finn would see her. Her breasts were displayed in a satin, black bra, supported in a way they didn’t naturally sit. Her stomach curved in wrong places and her belly button was a crease rather than the petite hole that a super model might show off.

  The black lace of her boy shorts scalloped the pouch of her stomach, making her, again, appear more feminine than she actually was. She would not start berating herself, not now when this was going to happen.

  Her fingers unclasped her bra and away went the support and down fell her breasts. Her nipples darkened and tightened in the cool air. She had nice nipples, not to big and not too small. Not too dark and not too pink.