Chapter 8
“If you get your lazy butt out of bed, we can hit the Whole Foods and get some stuff for breakfast. I’ll cook.”
Frankie opened her eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the light. Mac stood beside the bed with his hands on his hips, peering down at her expectantly. She allowed herself the pleasure of gaping at his ripped abs and bare chest for a long moment before responding. “What are you going to make?”
“Belgian waffles. They’re my specialty. Unless you keep looking at me like that, in which case I can show you another of my specialties. We barely scratched the surface last night, you know.” He stepped closer to the bed, his pupils dilating.
“Not on the menu, buddy.” She held up a staying hand. “I’m starving, so let’s get back to the food. By specialty, you mean only thing you can cook besides steak?”
His eyes glinted, and he set his thousand-kilowatt smile on her. “As a matter of fact, I can cook other stuff.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Hamburgers. Chili. And I make a mean soufflé.” “Serious?”
“One hundred percent. It was one of the things we learned in high school home ec. I don’t know why, but it stuck with me.”
“All right. But this is just a friendly little breakfast, right? This is—”
“Isn’t a date,” he grumbled. “I know, I know. We both have to eat, though, right?”
She didn’t know why she was fighting it. Somehow, the idea of sitting in his kitchen watching him make waffles sounded like a perfect way to start the day. They’d had an amazing night, and she wasn’t quite ready to let him go. If someone saw them out together, too bad. Mac was right. Life was too short to worry about what strangers thought of her. It wasn’t like she had to make any major decisions right now. All she had to do was be honest with herself. And honestly? She wanted to have breakfast with Mac.
Simple enough.
“Okay, but I need a shower. And I didn’t plan on staying the night, so I don’t have any clothes. I can’t wear my overalls,” she reminded him with a grin.
“Oh, believe me, I remember. But don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily.” He crossed the room to a long dresser and began pawing through the drawers. “Here,” he said, tossing her a pair of gym pants and a hoodie. “They’ll be big, but I think you’re going to look adorable. Want some help?” He gave her a lascivious smile and moved toward her.
She screeched and dove off the bed, running for the bathroom. Laughing, she slammed the door behind her. “You said you were going to feed me and I’m not putting out again ’til you do,” she called.
“That sounds like a promise to me.”
More time with Mac. What a hardship.
She was still smiling when she stepped out of the shower ten minutes later. That was what being with Mac did. Made her into a silly, giddy fool. A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door, and she hiked the towel up higher over her breasts. “Who is it?” she said in a singsong tone.
“Open the door for a sec.”
She bit her lip and took a quick peek in the mirror. Her hair was scooped back into its usual ponytail because she didn’t want to wash it, but she had not an ounce of makeup on and had hoped to at least slap a little lip gloss and mascara on before he got another look at her.
“Why?” she asked, hand on the doorknob in case it was important. “I want to give you something.”
She opened the door and stuck her head out. “What?”
Mac stood there, buck naked, with a handful of grapes in his big hand. “These.” He held one to her lips, and she instinctively opened her mouth and took it between her teeth.
“Mmm, good one. Nice and tart.”
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, sending a zing of heat straight to her pussy. Maybe breakfast could wait…
Mac stared, enthralled by a drop of juice clinging to Frankie’s bottom lip. Leaning forward, he swept his tongue out to collect it but found he couldn’t get enough. He cupped her neck, dragging her closer. Her breath caught as he took her mouth.
Shit, he didn’t want to let this woman go. He pulled back and worked up a teasing smile. “Technically, I just fed you. And you did say…”
Her brows flew up. “I can’t believe you would stoop to that.”
“Honey, you’d be surprised to know what I would stoop to if I thought I could have you again.”
She closed the door in his face with a soft click, but a few seconds later, right as he was about to walk away, it swung open again. There she stood, hair down, come-hither smile firmly in place, the towel on the floor at her feet.
He tossed the grapes over his shoulder and stalked toward her, intent on something far sweeter. Her eyes went wide as he wrapped his arms around her hips, pressing her backward until her thighs met the granite countertop. Spanning her slim waist, he lifted her onto the surface, which was slick with steam. Her breath caught, and she braced herself with a hand on the wall behind her. They’d barely touched, but already his cock was pulsing, thickening for her. He stood back, trying to commit the view to memory. Her gaze was heated, her lips swollen from their marathon night of lovemaking. Hard nipples stood proudly at attention, beckoning him in for a taste.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he muttered, reaching out to trace her collarbone with the tip of his finger.
Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her face away. “You look, Frankie. Look at yourself.”
She tipped her chin toward the mirror to her right and gasped. “Geez, can we turn the lights down? You can see…everything.” She moved to cover her breasts, but he grasped her wrists, tugging her hands away.
“Not going to happen. You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m not going to miss an inch of this.”
He stepped between her thighs and laid her hands on his chest. She met his gaze and nodded. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, closing his hands over her thighs, spreading them, sliding her closer to the edge of the countertop. He peered down at her glossy pink pussy and groaned. He’d gambled with the grapes and won. Now he wanted to worship her, take it slow, show her exactly what she meant to him. Only, things were growing more dire by the second. He was painfully hard. The urge to plunge into her until they both blew apart was getting stronger with every glance, every touch.
He looked up and caught her watching him stare. “You’re so pretty here,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles over her heated center. Her thighs flexed against his hips. “So tight and wet.” He pressed forward, nudging her slick clit with his thumb.
Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips as her head fell back.
“Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my mouth, right here. Sucking you, licking you,” he urged. Her hips fluttered as she tried to lure him deeper. He shifted back so he could get a better view of her pussy open and dripping for him. He poised two fingers at her entrance and dipped them into her in a shallow thrust.
“I could lick your clit while I do this, Frankie. It would feel so fucking good. Tell me you want it and it’s yours.” He thrust again, groaning as her silky walls squeezed.
She gasped. “Please, Mac.”
Her voice was all breath, and he leaned in close. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you want.”
“Please, put your mouth on me.”
The words made his cock jerk, and he dropped to his knees. He spread her lips, elated to see the creamy moisture that gathered there from his touch. Bending toward her, he flicked his tongue against her swollen clit, and she cried out.
She sank a hand in his hair and yanked. “So good,” she whispered.
Her praise sent his body into overdrive, and he drew the little nub into his mouth, working it with lips and tongue. She twisted and bucked against him, then froze as he slid two fingers over her.
“Oh God,” she groaned.
He pushed deep, thrusting into her tight, clasping sheath. Her whole body was taut, primed, rea
dy to blow, and if he moved, she would orgasm. He stilled as she moaned, hanging on the precipice. Her muscles strained and trembled.
“Mac,” she sobbed, arching her hips to take him further, to send her over.
He blew a soft puff of air on her overheated skin, and she jerked. He wanted to capture this moment in his mind forever. The sight of her gorgeous pussy, creamy liquid trickling down her thigh. The sound of her breathy gasps. The scent of her body, sweet and mysterious. His cock screamed for attention as he tried to hold on.
She tangled her fingers into his hair and forced him to look up at her. “Fuck me.” Her eyes were wild, her nostrils flaring delicately.
His heart tripped as he stood and withdrew his fingers from her body. Clutching her hips, he centered himself, sliding into her in one smooth motion. He caught her gaze and held it, savoring the sensations bombarding him. She was finally here. After all the nights he’d spent dreaming of her, of them, together like this, it was actually happening. Her dark eyes burned like coals, reflecting back the emotions threatening to drown him. She loved him too. The certainty of it settled into his bones, giving him a sense of peace he’d never known. Now he just needed to get her to see it. He traced the elegant line of her jaw with his thumb before she turned her head, breaking the connection.
She reached around him and clutched his ass, anchoring him to her, fanning the physical flames in an obvious effort to withdraw from the emotional. He tamped down the flash of disappointment. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was that she loved him, and he had all the time in the world for her to figure that out.
Following her cue, he leaned forward to nip at her juicy bottom lip as he drew his hips back and then slid them home again. She arched her back in response, drawing him deeper. Sucking his tongue into her mouth, she locked her legs around him. The intensity of it rocked him to his soul, and the inferno roared out of control.
Suddenly, the need to come barreled down on him, his balls growing tight. Desperate to take her with him, he gripped her hips, sliding her over his distended cock until she threw her head back with a scream. Every beautiful inch of her went taut as she stilled, her inner walls pulling at him, urging his own release. He thrust hard one last time as her body pulsed over him, milking his cock. The orgasm ripped through him, and he clutched her head in his hands as he exploded into her waiting heat.
Their labored breaths re-steamed the mirrors, and he bowed forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he managed as his heartbeat finally started to slow.
She gave his bottom a weak pat. He leaned back to see her trembling smile.
“If you think that was good, wait until you see what a full meal will get you.”
Chapter 9
An hour later Frankie held up a can of whipped topping as Mac took a pint of heavy cream from the cooler. “You’re going to make it? From scratch?” Her wide-eyed wonder made him want to tweak her nose, but he refrained.
“Yep. That’s the best part. You can help me whisk it up. It’s a good workout.” As he put the carton into their cart, she set the can back in the refrigerator. “Blueberries or strawberries?”
She chewed her lower lip and mulled it over. “Both?”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He pushed the cart over to the produce section. Frankie fell into step beside him, and they chatted amiably. They reached the fruit section, and he bumped her with his hip. “Go on, pick what looks good.”
He watched her, mesmerized by her careful selection technique as she held the containers to the light and gave the tops a gentle squeeze.
He loved the graceful way she moved. Loved the way she committed to everything she did wholeheartedly. Loved seeing her in his clothes. Loved…her.
It was no revelation, but for the first time he felt like he might have a shot at convincing her they were meant to be together.
He was deep in thought, trying to figure out how to make this—her—a fixture in his life, when a shrill voice interrupted his reflections.
“Mackenzie?”
Frankie’s whole body stiffened, as if she’d been whapped by a taser. He bit back a sigh and pasted a welcoming smile on his face.
“Hello, Ma.”
Frankie pinched her eyes closed as heat suffused her face. What were the odds of Mac’s mother shopping at eight o’clock in the morning? Or grocery shopping at all, for that matter.
“You know I abhor that nickname. Mother will do. Who is this?”
Frankie could feel the weight of the older woman’s stare and turned to face her. “Hello, Mrs. Sanders.”
“Francesca Polaski? I nearly didn’t recognize you with all those clothes on.” Her dour expression turned even more severe as her gaze flicked Frankie from head to toe, taking in her disheveled hair and the New York Giants sweatshirt that clearly belonged to Mac. She aimed an I-demand-answers glare toward her son.
“Yes, but she goes by Frankie. Still.” He added the last with a pointed look.
“It’s okay, Mac. Francesca is fine,” she said, trying to diffuse the situation as best she could.
“No, it isn’t,” Mac declared, his jaw set stubbornly.
“Well, the two of you can debate about it if you’d like, but I’m not calling her Frankie either way. It makes her sound like an unruly Italian boy from the Bronx,” Mimi sniffed. She pronounced it like “eye-talian”, and Mac didn’t bother to hide his eye roll.
“What are you doing here, anyway? You realize this is a grocery store, right?” Mac said.
“Don’t take that tone with me. I was on my way to meet CeeCee at the tennis court, and I saw your car. Since you haven’t been returning my calls, I thought it would be a good idea to stop in, say hello and remind you about your date with Melissa tonight.”
A wave of nausea gripped Frankie, and she set the berries back in the display case.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Mac said grimly. He tried to catch her eye, but she stared at the fruit instead as hot tears pricked her lids.
“So long as you remember your obligations,” Mimi said.
“And so long as you remember that’s exactly what this evening is to me. An obligation,” Mac said pointedly.
“I merely asked if you would accompany her. You agreed readily enough, and it would be unbearably rude to cancel on such short notice,” Mimi said with a sniff.
“I had no intention of canceling. Nor did I have any intention of repeating the exercise. I accepted because you asked me to. If you somehow took it to mean that Melissa Figbert and I would fall madly in love and provide you with impeccably pedigreed grandbabies, then you misunderstood.”
Mac’s mother tipped her face up and frowned. “You’re being boorish, and I don’t appreciate it. When you’re done with your…little get- together with Francesca, give me a call. This matter is not closed, Mackenzie.”
“Break a leg on the court today, Mother. And give CeeCee my love.”
Mac grabbed Frankie’s hand and rolled the cart away without a backward glance, but Frankie could feel the heat of Mimi’s gaze drilling into her long after they’d rounded the corner.
“That was fun stuff,” Frankie muttered once they’d managed to get out of earshot. Her tone was ripe with sarcasm, but her body language said something else entirely. She was hunched over, arms crossed over her stomach, like she was hurting deep inside. And damn if that didn’t make him want to drag his mother back by her flawlessly executed French twist and force her to apologize.
Mac pulled the cart to a stop. “Fuck her,” he said firmly. “I would no sooner let her pick a woman for me than I would a career path. Don’t let this ruin what we have before it even gets off the ground.” Frankie kept her face averted until he lifted a finger to her chin. “Look at me.”
When she finally did, the unaffected joy on her face that had been there all night and most of the morning was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a practiced grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m look
ing, and the view is pretty fine,” she said with a wink, letting her gaze drift down over his chest.
The look that would have set most men aflame sent a bolt of fury through him. He would have rather seen tears. At least they would be honest. “Stop with the show, Frankie. I thought we were past that. I know you’re hurting right now.”
The smile died a sudden death, replaced by outrage. “We had a deal. There isn’t supposed to be anyone hurting. You agreed to a purely physical relationship and some good times. Now you’re poking around spots I don’t want you poke—”
“Don’t pull that shit on me,” he snapped. “From the second we kissed, we both knew it was more than that. Hell, I don’t even think you realize you couldn’t have been with me if it wasn’t more than that. This is not who you are.”
She pursed her lips, a wistful expression clouding her features before drifting away. “That’s where you’re wrong. Maybe it’s not who you want me to be, but I realized last night I like the wild feelings. I love the adrenaline rush, exploring new things, dressing sexy. Maybe it started out as a defense mechanism, but now it really is a part of me. And that doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“You’re so right. It, along with so many other things, makes you an awesome person. I love that you’re comfortable with your sexuality. But don’t confuse that with being promiscuous. We did these things together because we care about each other and we trust each other. Why else would you have waited this long?” He was pushing her too hard, too soon, and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“I was busy.” She jutted her chin out stubbornly, her annoyance apparent.
“Now you’re not? What’s changed?” He shook his head, refusing to back down. “Nothing. If anything, it’s more hectic with your dad gone. The difference is you finally found someone you wanted to be with enough to risk getting hurt again. Don’t chicken out on me now.”
“What are we, five? Are you going to double dog dare me?” Her voice was steadily on the rise now, and twin spots of color rode her cheekbones. “I got news for you, pal. You can’t always get what you want. I’m sure that’s an entirely new concept to you, but it’s the truth. We had a deal. If you imagined this was going to unfold some other way, that’s on you. I never lied to you.” She thrust the last out like a shield, and he wondered who she was trying to convince.
Better to Eat You Page 13
