Leave Me Breathless

Chapter Twenty


They’d gone out for sushi when the texts started. And then the calls.

Jared was pissed that she’d blown him off. She felt bad about that, having called him earlier and broken the news to his voice mail—honestly, in all her excitement, she’d damn near forgotten all about it—but he was overreacting. Apparently, he’d gone by her apartment because he wanted to know where she was. As if she had to answer to him.

When Seth asked her who the hell was trying to get in touch with her, she waved off his questions and silenced her phone. Dammit. She should’ve told him from the start that her own psycho ex might be hatching right before her very eyes. Ugh. Jared had never struck her as that type. Then again, Jared had never seen her getting seriously involved with someone else.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Seth asked, startling her out of her thoughts. They’d been lingering over their finished food for a while now. And still basking in the afterglow of everything they’d done just before coming here—or at least, she was. She quickly took a drink of her water.

“Oh, sure.”

“If something’s going on back home—”

“No, nothing like that. I do need to make a call though. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Be right back.” She slid out of her seat and headed for the ladies’ room, jaw tight with all the words she wanted to fling. The simplest solution would be to turn her phone completely off, but he’d already pissed her off.

The restroom was empty, thank goodness, and hopefully she could make this brief. Jared answered right away.

“Macy?”

“What is your deal, Jared?”

“Why didn’t you come today?”

“I told you. I’m sorry, but something came up. End of story. Now stop this. Right now.”

“I don’t appreciate getting ditched at the last minute. This isn’t like you. What’s happened to you?”

Despite the flare in her outrage, his words stung. “I think you had it built up in your mind as more than what it was. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a door opening to you and me getting back together someday, no matter what you might have deluded yourself into believing. The more I thought about it, the more it all seemed like a bad idea, anyway.”

“I guess you’re off f*cking him again. Blowing off the people who really care about you for that trash. I never thought I’d see you come to this, but now that you have, maybe you deserve each other.”

Silent, shaking fury ravaged her, stealing all ability to speak, and she hated that, she hated it. Tears burned her eyes. The only thought that could squeeze itself in among the tumult in her head was, What would Seth say? The answer came quite readily—at least, part of it did.

“Jared? F*ck right off. I can only hope to deserve him.” She couldn’t jab the red End button fast enough. Then she did what she should have done from the start: turn the damn thing off. As she slammed her way out of the restroom, she almost ran into some poor lady who was coming in and muttered an apology before skirting past and stalking blindly back toward their table.

Big mistake, she realized as she sat. She should’ve taken a minute to compose herself. Seth’s dark eyebrows dipped as he looked at her. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing.” She strove for nonchalance as she collected her purse and her coat, but didn’t think she quite achieved it, so she gave up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jesus, you need to talk about it. Your face is the color of your sweater.” Which was fuchsia. “Looks like you’re about to combust. C’mon, babe. Whose ass do I need to kick?”

Oh, she could think of one right off. How dare Jared say that about him? About her? Had he always been that big an a*shole, or had she just not paid attention in her naive youth? “It’s nothing. Can we go back to the room now?”

The shift in his demeanor was apparent without him saying a word. His dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and there was no mistaking the tightening of his jaw. “Macy. Who was on the f*cking phone.”

Shit. If she told him, she had to tell him everything. And he might very well do what he threatened. “It’s just someone I know being an idiot. It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay? Let’s just go back and not let it ruin the night. I’ll cool off, I promise.”

His gaze bore into hers a few seconds longer before he cursed and snatched his wallet from his back pocket, slinging a few bills on the table before standing and shoving it back in its place. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Hey,” she said gently, standing up beside him. “It’s not—”

He walked away from her. Actually freaking turned his back and left her standing there.

Well. Looked as if acting like an a*shole was catching. She followed him, struggling into the coat he was usually all too happy to help her into. “Seth.”

At least he held the restaurant door for her, but he didn’t answer, and he didn’t meet her eyes. And if she was being deliberately ignored, damn if she was going to beg for his attention. She surged ahead of him and snatched open the passenger door of his car before he could touch it. If he’d even been inclined. The force she used to close it after she flung herself inside probably clued him in a bit to how his behavior was affecting her already shitty mood.

What the hell? Damn Jared Stanton. In the momentary silence while Seth walked around to the driver’s side, she watched the headlights on the interstate blur, then clenched her eyes shut. All that accomplished was squeezing the tears out. She wiped her cheeks as he dropped into his seat.

“Tell me what the f*ck is going on.”

“Why the damn inquisition?”

“Because you’re keeping something from me, and I don’t like it.”

“So my life’s an open book when I’m with you? I have to clear every phone call with you and relay all my personal conversations for your approval?”

“Where is this shit coming from? I only asked for details on the one phone call that had you looking like you want to tear someone’s head off. If someone’s f*cking with you, Macy, I want to know about it.”

“Well, I don’t want you to know about it.”

The silence that descended was terrible and absolute. Then his leather jacket creaked as he turned away from her and cranked the car, grumbling something that sounded like, “Crazy ass f*cking females.” He backed out of the parking spot and peeled out so fast she was scrabbling for a handhold. But at least he didn’t drive crazy once they reached the interstate; her heart was in her throat enough as it was.

“I thought we’d turned a corner, you know,” he said as he violently shifted gears. “And I always thought you trusted me more than this.”

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just… Shit. I’m mad at a friend. So what. Why are you making it such a big deal?”

“Why are you? It’s only a big deal because you’re shutting me out. I doubt you’re this mad at Candace. Or Sam.”

“No,” she said cautiously.

“A friend, huh.”

She clamped her mouth shut.

“Has this friend at any point stuck his dick in you?”

Her vision practically went black. “You did not just say that to me.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Then I think you need to shut your mouth before you say something else you’re going to regret later.”

“I won’t regret shit, except maybe that I set myself up for this to start with. Thanks for your lack of denial, by the way. Tells me all I need to know.”

“God! You’re being so unreasonable. I realize you’ve been burned and all, but don’t project that onto me. I won’t tolerate that.”

He was quiet for a long time, too long. “There’s a lot I won’t tolerate, Macy. I have a line. Once it’s crossed, that’s it. Secrets, sneaking around, other motherf*ckers sniffing around while you pretend like it’s no big deal. Been there. These are major f*ckin’ issues for me. You should know that.”

Macy scoffed, trying to hold on to anger that was fast morphing into heartbreak. “Poor you. Get over it. I don’t think I’d be too out of line in suggesting that you’re just looking for some reason to believe the line has been crossed when it hasn’t. I haven’t done anything. I’ve explained to you that I don’t lay my drama out for everyone to see. You want everything up front, and that’s a major friggin’ issue for me.”



“You brought your drama to the f*cking table back there. You had your drama written all over your face. What am I supposed to think?”

“Fine, Seth. The friend I was talking to is Jared Stanton. You saw him at the bar on Valentine’s night. I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. We dated from the time I was fourteen years old until I had my accident. After that, he knocked up some other girl, got married, had twins, got divorced. I give his daughters horse riding lessons because he works a lot, and he knows I’m damn good at it. And yes, he wants me back. I saw him at my parents’ house last weekend. He wanted me to come to a roping today. I agreed to go for old time’s sake, but I blew him off to see you. And he’s pissed, and he said some really shitty things just now. End of story. Satisfied?”

“All this has been going on since you’ve been seeing me?”

“Yes.”

“F*ck.”

And that was that. He completely shut down. Maybe she deserved it; maybe—no, definitely, she supposed, considering his reaction—she should’ve been up front with him about it all. She really hadn’t considered it that big a deal. Because it wasn’t one, at least in her mind.

Then again, she’d never been the one left behind before. She’d always been the one who did the leaving.

Jesus. Who’d have thought being the type of person who liked to keep your mouth shut instead of flapping a hundred miles a minute would blow up so spectacularly in your face? Wasn’t it usually the other way around?

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, hating the pleading undertone in her voice. “None of this is as bad as it sounds. I’ve been telling him and telling him I’m not getting back together with him. He knows about you. It’s not like I’m keeping us a secret.”

“Just keeping him a secret from me.” He braked so hard in the parking lot of their hotel that if she hadn’t been wearing her seat belt, she might’ve been thrown into the dashboard.

“For good reason, apparently!” she snapped, unbuckling and flinging the belt off. Once she’d gotten out of the car, she noticed he made no move to do the same. He didn’t even kill the engine. Holding on to the door, she leaned in to look at him, her pulse in her ears. “Are you leaving?”

His face was in shadow, but given the ice in his voice, that was probably a good thing. “Shut the door.”

Oh God, there had to be something she could say to make this better. Some magic phrase that would let him know he had no reason to be jealous or threatened. None whatsoever. But if this was his reaction whenever she received the least amount of attention from the opposite sex, did she really want any part of it?

If this was how he wanted it, then this was how it was going to be. She slammed the door and didn’t wait around to watch him leave.

Which he did.

Oh, hell no.

Thank God they’d each taken a key card. She let herself into the room and gave her purse a fling in the darkness, hearing the contents scatter wherever it landed. The first thing to draw her gaze as she flipped on the light was his overnight bag on the dresser. She hoped there were no prized possessions of his in there, because she damn sure wasn’t going to take it back to him. He was lucky she didn’t burn it on sight.

“Crazy f*cking females my ass,” she muttered into the silence of the room. Men were the insane ones. Did he think just because she’d allowed him into her vagina a few times that he owned her? Did Jared think the same thing? She had bad news for him especially. She hadn’t exactly been celibate since their breakup, even before Seth. There hadn’t been many, but there’d been a few.

Her phone had landed at the foot of the bed. She scooped it up, sighing and switching it on as she dropped heavily onto the unkempt bed, exhausted. Jared had apparently followed her earlier suggestion. No messages from him. Candace had left her a voice mail. Just wanted to chat. Well, she wasn’t in the chatting mood.

What the hell was happening? Was he just heading back to Oklahoma without a word? Was he going somewhere to cool off until they could talk rationally? She’d never seen him enraged. She didn’t know him like that. Probably a good thing she had gotten a glimpse before this went any further.

Whatever, she thought, dragging herself up from the bed. She’d figured she’d sleep naked in his arms tonight, so she hadn’t packed PJs. Bad idea. As she stripped to her underwear, she eyed his bag. Surely he’d have a T-shirt in there; he lived in them. The one she pulled out was black (shocker) and read Cannibal Corpse in dripping red letters. Lovely. But as she pulled it over her head and freed her hair from the collar, his vaguely citrusy scent enveloped her, and the last of her anger dissipated.

She’d get some sleep, go home and try to forget the past few weeks had ever happened.



She jolted awake to a mouth at her neck, wet and hot and sucking.

Lust crashed over her like a tidal wave, sweeping any grogginess right out of her head and kicking her pulse into double time. With a little gasp, she grasped the sides of his face and pulled his mouth to hers, drinking in warm whiskey-drenched breath—he must have just taken a hit of it, because his flavor made her instantly drunk. His tongue tangled with hers, and she sucked on it, rejoicing in the tormented groan the action pulled from his throat.

Searching her heart for any remnants of her earlier anger and finding it still burning, she knew she should stop him. His hot hand slid under her T-shirt—his T-shirt—traveling all the way up to her breast, and the notion flew out of her head. He kneaded it roughly, tugging on her nipple until it stood at aching attention. She wanted his mouth there. She wanted it everywhere. Her own hand slipped between them, and she practically growled in frustration at finding his jeans still on. But there was nothing frustrating about the thick ridge pressing against his fly. A surge of answering wetness saturated her, and she worked at freeing his cock from his jeans.

An unpleasant thought teased at the edges of her consciousness, and she didn’t want to let it take hold, but little by little it grew until it permeated even the need pooled hotly between her legs. What if he was so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing? Had he driven like this? Turning her head as his mouth burned down her throat, she saw the squat bottle of amber liquid on the nightstand. Maybe he’d just brought it back and drank here. The TV was on but muted, its light flickering against the ceiling. What if he’d just awakened with a hard-on and—surprise!—there was a warm, willing female body within arm’s length?

“Say my name,” she whispered against his lips as her fingers completed their task and his heavy length filled her eager hands.

“Macy,” he breathed. His arm wound around her, pulling her closer. His other hand abandoned its place on her breast and slid down her stomach into her damp panties. “Macy…”

She spread her legs, moving against his hand. His fingers stroked her, strummed her, wreaked exquisite havoc on her slick, sensitive flesh.

“F*ck me, Seth,” she gasped into his mouth. “Please. I only want you. I’ve always only wanted you.”

Tension swept through the body against her, and she prayed the reminder of their earlier words wouldn’t douse his ardor. His hand grasped her panties and wrenched them down and off. So much for that fear.

He rolled her beneath him as she fought to shove his jeans down farther. He shifted, positioning himself—not easy since she couldn’t stop squirming under him. Then the broad head of his cock breached her, and she threw her head back with a guttural cry, sinking her fingernails into the firm flesh of his ass. Urging him on, begging him for more.

He gave it. Hard, fast, showing no mercy, he shoved his entire length into her, sending shockwaves through her body. If she weren’t so wet, so hot, so desperate for him, she might have cried out for him to stop, go slower. She wondered if he even would have listened. “F*ck,” he growled as he went so deep she could hardly breathe. “F*ck.”

Her own mind couldn’t do much better at describing it. One word whirled at the forefront of her thoughts: yes. Yes. This was right, this was where she belonged. He pulled out, leaving her whimpering in distress, her p-ssy clenching against the sudden emptiness he left. Her body ignited when he thrust back in. Starbursts exploded in front of her closed eyelids—and in the depths he reached inside her. Oh God, two strokes and she was ready to come.

That was way less than he had to give her. She tumbled into ecstasy even before the headboard began banging the wall with the ferocity of his passion. And again before he shoved her legs back until her feet were on his shoulders. Then his piercing hit her G-spot with devastating precision, and she came twice more, sobbing his name. She’d lost count by the time he flipped her over and took her from behind. By then, she was raw, boneless, shameless, his to mold and shape like putty. Her T-shirt had disappeared at some point. Patches of skin itched and ached from where he’d sucked on them. There wasn’t an orgasm left in her body to wring out…or so she thought.

Chanting his name and loving how it sounded on her tongue, she rippled and constricted around him again. His fingers dented into her flesh hard enough to bruise as he jerked her against him one final time…and left her. Cool air circulated over her overheated flesh in his absence. He growled several curses as he came on her back. Exhausted, whimpering, she collapsed fully to the mattress. He followed, seemingly mindless of the mess between them, and she welcomed his weight on her. His breath gusted against her ear. His heart galloped against her back, and he trembled as hard as she did.

She didn’t think she ever wanted to move again. Mmm, yes, she could stay like this from now on.

“You’re just going to leave me too,” he said, the words practically a hiss in her ear, but laced with so much despair that shock reverberated through her.

“Seth, I’m not—” He rolled off her and left the bed. Somehow she found the strength to lift her head and watch him stalk toward the bathroom, hitching up his jeans as he went. “Listen to me.”

He didn’t. Any further words tangled in her throat and ice settled where the ashes of her heart had been as he slammed the door.

Bastard. Dirty effing unbelievable bastard.



F*cking stupid, stupid. Ghost was even more pissed at his wayward dick than the woman out there in the bed. Goddamn, his head hurt, and the bathroom light was like a knife slicing deeper into his brain with every thought. He didn’t know how he’d had enough blood in his nether regions to sustain wood; every drop seemed to be converged right behind his eyes. It throbbed with every beat of his heart, which had yet to slow. But instead of exertion, it now pounded in fury. At himself. At everything.

A glance at the mirror revealed he looked like hammered shit. Macy hadn’t really been able to see what she was f*cking or she might have shoved him off. He looked wasted. He guessed he still was. Staring at his reflection, he wanted to put a fist through it, watch his own face shatter like everything else in his f*cking life.

Sighing, he spared the mirror and his knuckles, splashed cold water on his face and contemplated a shower. Her warm, sugary vanilla scent was still all over him, and if he didn’t get it off, he might tear into that room and have a repeat. Shit. He’d gone raw in her too. F*cking drunken sex-fogged brain. At least he’d had the presence of mind to pull out; now he’d just hope to hell it was enough. He wasn’t worried about diseases—she took care of herself and so did he—but after the catastrophe with Raina, he’d vowed never to let that sneak up on him again.

Macy had felt so good the mere thought of her wrapped around him was enough to stir interest despite everything they’d just done. So wet, so soft, so perfect.

He really needed to get out of here before he made a colossal ass of himself, even more so than he had already. He’d been an idiot for coming back and not going somewhere else to get trashed. Now he was trapped in the bathroom with no escape that didn’t involve facing her down.

Smooth move, a*shole. Now what?

That shower might be a good stalling technique. Cold. He’d never have thought he would need a cold shower after such furious sex. After that display, he needed an ice pack. He was sore, raw. Any other time, he’d be damn proud of himself.

Discarding his jeans, he realized his cell phone was in the pocket. The time read 5:07 a.m. Brian had tried to call once and had texted only a couple hours ago. Yeah, he’d unloaded on Brian right after the fight; he’d had so much furious energy he hadn’t known where to channel it. Dude, Candace didn’t know anything about this, either. I think you’re overreacting. Call if you need me, I don’t care what time.

Ghost smirked as he left the phone on the counter and cranked on the water in the shower. Brian always texted with perfect grammar. What would his best friend think if he told him he’d just had the best bang of his life, and he was hiding out in the bathroom like a virgin on prom night?

And maybe he was overreacting, but hell. Jared f*cking Stanton sounded like a prize catch for someone like her. She should go ride off into the sunset with her cowboy and forget all about him. Here he’d been trying to urge her back into racing…and he’d only pushed her toward her waiting ex. Yeah, you’re welcome, a*shole. He vaguely remembered getting a look at the guy’s face, seeing and hearing enough to know he was a cocky prick.

She might’ve blown the guy off this time, but there was always next time.

Clear your head. That was all he needed to do. He’d woken up with anger and grief warring inside his fuzzy head and an intense hard-on…and Macy’s soft, sweet body nestled beside him. A catastrophic combination. For the first few minutes, he’d thought he was having the hottest damn wet dream of his life.

In the end, it didn’t matter whether he was overreacting or not. This was only proof that he needed to quit thinking with his dick, get his ass back to Oklahoma and keep it there as long as he needed to. Get her out of his head.

The shower spray hit him, but it didn’t bring clarity. It didn’t make the decision he’d just come to any easier to swallow. He stood with his hands braced against the wall, letting the water stream down his back. When the shower curtain flung open, he really wasn’t surprised—what did shock the hell out of him was the lack of a verbal lashing from the fuming girl on the other side. Macy stepped into the tub with him without a single word, her hair pinned sloppily atop her head, her face and chest flushed blotchy red.

He moved out of her way. Without meeting his eyes, without behaving as if he were there at all, she soaped up and rinsed, while he clenched both fists, repressing the need to put her against the wall and get some words out of that delectable mouth. Even something Raina-esque, like I hate you, you vile motherf*cker would have made him feel better than her icy silence. But he didn’t deserve to feel better.

She slapped him in the chest with her washcloth and stepped out.

Oh, f*ck this. He opened his mouth to speak, to call her back, to get her to curse his name, anything…and his phone buzzed to ringing life on the counter. Macy walked out, shutting the door behind her as he damn near broke his neck getting to his phone.

Stephanie. God knew the last time he’d gotten a call from her at this hour, it hadn’t been good news.

“Steph?” he answered—more like croaked.

The briefest silence…and then his sister’s sniveling voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m—f*ck, Stephanie, what is it?”

“The hospital just called. Nana had another stroke.” She took a shuddering breath. “Seth…we lost her.”