“I’ve been in a hospital,” I argue, enjoying the interaction. I like this too. A lot. It feels … right. “I smell like antiseptic ointment and disinfected sheets.”
“No, it’s not that.” Jake leans in and rubs his nose along my neck. His breath tickles my skin. “It’s like the scent of you is plugged into some fundamental part of my brain.” His tongue snakes out, trailing a hot path toward my ear. My breath hitches when he nips at my lobe. “And the taste of you.” He pulls back, looking at me with hooded eyes. “You’re a drug, Mackenzie Valentine. One I can’t quit.”
But you did quit me.
The reminder has me crawling back inside myself.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice gruff.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do that. Every time we get too close, you shut down and we end up fighting.”
“Because I can’t forget, Jake,” I answer honestly. “And I can’t …”
“Can’t?” he prompts.
My heart aches. “I can’t forgive,” I whisper.
Grief flits across his expression, and he bows his head. His wide shoulders sag. Damn him. He makes this so hard.
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
“I don’t want an apology when I’m the one who’s sorry.” He shakes his head, lifting his gaze. “I just want you to try.”
“It’s too hard.”
“I’ll make it easy for you. I promise.” Jake shifts closer, his calloused palm rising to cup my cheek. His eyes darken, beseeching. “Please.”
A small smile finds its way to my lips, and he covers it with his mouth, kissing me. The touch is tender. Light. Impossible to deny. My body responds, nipples tightening to painful points and heat licking its way down my spine.
Jake feels it and our kiss hardens into basic need. He needs my touch. I need his. My mouth opens and our tongues meet, rubbing and tangling together. Kissing him makes me dizzy and wet. A moan climbs my throat.
Before it escalates any further, Jake draws back and presses his forehead to mine.
A lump fills my throat. “What if I can’t?”
“Don’t even think about that. Let’s just take each day as it comes. And then one day it will become easy and there’ll be nothing between us. No past. Just you and me, together.” He kisses me again, a soft press of his lips. “I love you, Princess.”
“I—”
Jake shakes his head. “Don’t say anything. I just want you to know.”
The loud clearing of a throat interrupts us.
I jerk wildly. Coffee tips from the mug I forgot was in my hands. It splashes out, staining my sheets.
“Shit,” I mutter, seeing Casey leaning against the doorframe. An amused glint lights his eyes as he looks between the both of us. “Jake was just … He brought me breakfast.”
Casey waves an opened packet of Doritos, seeming to think nothing of Jake’s and my close proximity. “I was just doing the same thing. Looks like he beat me to it.”
Jake’s tone is unamused. “You were bringing her Doritos for breakfast?”
“What?” Casey looks at the packet in mock confusion. “It’s cheese. And corn. Part of the food pyramid.”
He tosses a chip in his mouth with a loud crunch.
“What did you bring her?” His flirty blue eyes fall on the breakfast tray before moving to the plate in my lap. “Wow. A full-cooked breakfast. Bacon. Eggs. Coffee. Food of the Gods.” He nods, looking at me. “That right there is the actions of a man in love.”
“Dude,” I mutter. “That is not what this is.”
“Fuck you, Mac,” Jake mumbles under his breath. “That’s exactly what this is.” Louder, he says, “What do you want, Daniels?”
A cheeky grin forms on Casey’s lips. Damn, but the man is powerfully sexy, and I’m not blind. Short, dirty-blonde hair, tall and built, he has an infectious attitude that draws you in like a moth to flame. “I was checking to see if the Mac Attack needed anything, but clearly you’ve got her bases covered. All of them.”
“I do. Mac doesn’t need anything you’ve got to offer, mate.”
A laugh flies from my mouth. His statement is almost absurd. Any girl would beg to have what Casey has to offer. Even if it does only come in Dorito form.
Indignation flushes Jake’s cheeks. “Did you just laugh?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“Well, if I’m not needed,” Casey says, interrupting our squabble, “then you ladies will have to excuse me. I’ve got shit to do.”
He leaves quickly and we hear the sound of him jogging down the stairs moments later. I turn to Jake. “Do you think he knows?”
“Knows?”
“About us?” I clarify with an eye roll.
JAKE
How Mac is letting me stay in her bed, I don’t know. Scratch that. I do. She’s vulnerable after what happened. Do I feel guilty about taking advantage of that vulnerability? Fuck no. She’s going to have to suck it up and get used to me being in her face. Short of telling her everything that went down the night of her kidnapping, being like this is the only way to cement a future together as a happy, albeit hostile, couple.
I like the hostility, the rabid interaction we have. It keeps me on my toes. Keeps me wanting more. Being on stage, hammering a wild, heavy beat as the rioting crowd swells into a single living organism is nothing compared to having Mac naked beneath me. Or here beside me, bickering as she likes to do.
“So what if Casey knows, or anyone else for that matter?” I answer. “Would that be so bad?”
Mac lifts her chin, the stubborn bitch. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She pauses for a moment as if scrambling for a reason. “Because it’s unprofessional. We work together. I’m the manager. You’re the talent.”
I snort. “Try again.”
“Because I don’t know how to explain the history we’ve kept hidden from everyone all this time.”
“I’ll explain it,” I say, shooting down her second reason.
Her brows snap together. “Dammit, Romero.”
“Your reasons are thin, Princess. Try again.”
Mac huffs and exhales sharply through her nostrils. The truth is in there, bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. It will come out because I’ve succeeded in pissing her off by digging for it.
“Because I’m not ready.”
And there it is. I hide my disappointment by reaching for her mug of coffee. I take a sip. It’s a punch to the eyeballs. The liquid is dark, bitter, and blacker than night. It’s also lukewarm. I set it on the opposite bedside table.
“Okay then,” I reply and force a smile.
“That’s it?”
“I can’t make you do something you’re not ready for,” I explain patiently.
“That’s right. And it’s not like we’re even together,” she goes on to say, her words a blow to the heart. Not like we’re together? I can’t live without you!
Despite the inner turmoil, my external voice is calm. “We’re anything you want us to be.”
As long as she wants us to actually be together.
I’m a fool for listening to Casey. Mac should know what her brothers have done. They’re the ones who deserve her anger and forgiveness. But there’s a small voice in the back of my mind that whispers, What happens when she does find out? Will it all become water under the bridge, or will it be too late for the two of us to recover what we lost?