by Angel Payne
His sultry snarl brought me out of my ruminations. “You know, Sassy…” And then he ground his impressive cock up against the sensitive crack of my ass. “You’re really fucking sexy when you’re defending me. I think I like it. A lot.”
“You’re impossible, Clown. Insatiable and impossible.”
“Guilty as charged.” He grinned, and I pressed my forehead to his.
“And on that note…” Colin got up as well. “I think I’m going to find a more comfortable place to get some much-needed sleep. Our visit to Chicago has, regrettably, tapped me out.”
I watched the man disappear into the back of the plane as well and made a mental note to check in with Claire about what was going on with all that. Since the feds had yet to locate Andrea and Trey, the subject of their heinousness had been, out of respect to Margaux, back-burnered by our tight little group. Seemed like it was all about to hit the front flames once more.
But first things first. We had to put this crazy man, John, in his place.
“I really don’t want to deal with all this bullshit. It’s so unfair. We had the best trip ever, and now I don’t even know where I’m going to live.” I closed my eyes and wished it were all some sort of terrible nightmare I could wake up from.
“With me. Duh.” He said it so casually, making me open up to meet his gaze again.
“Mac, I’m serious. I’m not talking about a one-night sleepover. I truly don’t have money for a security deposit on a new place, so I need something that’ll be for a while.”
“How about forever?”
But he’d muttered it so quietly, and like he had marbles in his mouth, that he could have just as well been saying now or for never.
“What?” I demanded. “What did you just say?”
“Just that we’d work out something for the better.” His lips quirked, all but blaring his bold lie, but I had bigger issues to work through here. Huge things to think about.
“Well, I’ve got to figure this out,” I went on. “From what Killian was saying, I won’t be getting the money back that I put down on the apartment. I will not go stay with my mother in her double-wide. Claire and Margaux have babies now, and as for Talia and the guys…” I shook my head. “They’re doing everything in their power to make a baby, and I just don’t want to be around all that.”
I was working myself up into a new lather. His darkened glare said as much.
“Taylor. For the love of fuck. I said stay with me. I’m very serious about this. Move into my house in Oceanside. You love it there.”
I bit my lip. “You’re right. I do.”
“And there’s more than enough room for the two of us, so what’s the problem?” His tone shifted to the “hurt” range, and I knew I needed to try to explain.
“It’s not the way it’s supposed to be.” I leaned my head back on his shoulder, wanting him to understand my thoughts more than anything.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re not asking me because you want me to be there.”
“Why am I asking you, then?” He huffed. “Honestly, Taylor Mathews, you’re the most confusing human I know. Please, explain this to me. Why did I just ask you to move in with me if I don’t want you there?”
“You’re asking me because I need a place to go.” Christ, it was so obvious. Why did it seem so clear to me, yet he didn’t get it at all?
I turned in his lap so I could face him. He just stared back, utter bewilderment twisting his handsome face. “What does that mean?” he growled. “Because you need a place to go? This is a normal course of events. You need a place to live, I say, ‘Yes, I have a wonderful place we can share; come live with me.’ And normally, you would say, ‘Thank you, Mac. I’d love that, Mac.’”
I took a deep breath, doing my very best to hang on to whatever shred of patience I had left. “Try to follow me on this. It’s not like we reached a place in our relationship where we decided we should move in together. No. I just had some psychopath break into my apartment, and now I have no money to move into a new place. Our hand is forced to make a decision we weren’t ready to make. See?”
Something clicked into place, and he finally followed my line of thinking. “Okay. I see what you’re saying. And I completely disagree. Just because we didn’t have the conversation before John decided to redecorate for you doesn’t mean we aren’t ready to live together.” He paused for a few seconds, letting me absorb my semi-victory. “Do you feel like you’re ready to live with me? Because I feel like I’m ready to live with you. Hell, I feel like I’m ready to marry you, but you won’t even say you love me.”
The blood drained from my face.
Hell. Did the plane just freeze in midair too?
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t even sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
I moved to stand up, but Mac held me tighter.
“Let me up.” I tugged on his hands that were clasped around my middle.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, goddamnit. You always run. As soon as the L-word comes up, you take off. Physically or mentally, you depart.” He released his arms from around me, and I stood up, just like he predicted I would. But I didn’t walk away. I just needed to be standing. I needed to deal with the extra energy coursing through my body. So many things were going on. I wasn’t sure we needed to add this to the pile of complications.
So I stood there. Not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do.
I just stood there.
But then, something happened.
Something deep inside me…
just…
cracked.
All the years of holding my shit together, keeping my life in line while mopping up after my addict mother’s follies, containing all the emotions deep down in a safe place where they didn’t have to be felt… And then it all just burst out, rushing free from me in a tsunami of hysterics and a torrent of tears. Whether that’s what Mac actually intended—or even expected or hoped to ever have to deal with in his life—that was what arrived. The fucking storm.
Of me.
Right at his feet.
Literally.
In a sad, messy heap of sniveling, sobbing, snotty, gasping-for-air, chest-heaving wails, I collapsed in a ball at Maclain Stone’s feet, utterly inconsolable for what seemed like a millennium.
When I became somewhat aware of my surroundings, Mac was on the floor, cradling me in his strong arms like he’d found an injured animal. He rocked me gently while stroking the hair back from my tear-dampened face, softly whispering words to me that didn’t quite reach my ears above the humming in my head. I clutched the sleeve of his shirt in one hand and the placket of his button-down in the other, holding on for my very survival. Not the physical kind. This was worse.
Whatever had just happened was so far beyond my own explanation, I decided to take comfort in his physical nearness instead. I reached up to touch his face, the scratchy stubble of his unshaven beard, just to feel the roughness under my fingers. The careful concern I saw in his beautiful green eyes when he looked down into my face made the emotion well up again but this time for a reason I fully recognized.
He loves me.
The thought gonged through me like the revelation it was. Like the sun finally breaking through my storm. Like the miracle I could finally embrace, in all its magical and beautiful intensity.
He truly loves me.
It was in his heart and in his soul. He showed me all the time—but he really showed me right this moment with the way he gazed upon me. Adoring me, even in my snot-nosed messiness. Lifting me up, though I was really and truly at my lowest.
Loving me…no matter what I’d thrown at him so far or could ever dream of subjecting him to in the future.
Loving me.
And I loved him.
I was no longer lost. He was my everything. My beacon home. My grounding wire. My safe haven. My heart knew it, and it h
ad known for some time. It was my head that was having trouble getting on board with the plan. But now, even my stubborn head realized I was at risk of losing him, or at the very least, hurting him, if I didn’t return the sentiment. And soon. If there was one thing I could be sure of after the past week I’d spent with this amazing man, losing him would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to endure.
“Are you back with me?” he murmured, careful not to kick off another rush of emotion.
“I’m so sorry.” I really didn’t know what else to say after all that had just happened.
“Don’t you dare apologize. You’ve been under an enormous amount of stress, baby. You don’t ever have to apologize for feeling your emotions around me. It proves you’re alive in here.” He touched the center of my chest, just above my heart.
“I have no idea what that was about. One minute I was standing there”—I pointed to the spot where I had been upright—“the next thing I know, I’m here in your lap again, feeling like I’ve aged about ten years and have had the wind knocked out of me. Did we lose cabin pressure? Maybe it was hypoxia? That’s a real thing. I’ve read about it.”
He smiled, eyes scrunching up, knowing I was looking for every excuse I could come up with rather than admitting I just had a Grade A emotional meltdown.
“If the offer is still open, I’d like to come stay at your place when we get home.” There. I said it. Baby steps, right?
“Of course the offer still stands. Why would I retract it?” he said gently, still stroking my hair back.
“Well, we’re sitting on the floor of a private jet when there are plenty of perfectly good seats available because I just proved what a basket case I really am. Just for starters.”
“Do you remember what I said about the good times and the bad times? Love doesn’t stop and start like a trendy fashion statement. This is the real deal, Taylor. I love you. I’m in it for the long haul. You can’t get rid of me, Sassy.” He kissed the tip of my nose, and I sniffled, realizing what a mess I must look like.
“Okay,” I whispered. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep in his arms, but I knew he had to be terribly uncomfortable. His big frame was folded up to cradle me between a row of cabinets and the seats we’d sat in for takeoff. I also knew if I fell asleep here, he wouldn’t say a word. He’d just sit here and hold me until I woke up, even if that meant he had a stiff back for the next week.
“I’m going to go freshen up. I must be a sight.” I stretched up to meet his lips, savoring his warmth when I pressed mine to his. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to just blurt the words out and make the whole ordeal final. But I wanted it to be more special than with me sitting in a heap on the floor of an airplane after I’d just gone to pieces at his feet. I would come up with a perfect time and place, and it would be something neither one of us would ever forget.
Chapter Ten
Mac
We touched down at Montgomery Field in the early evening thanks to an accommodating tail wind. A Stone Global car waited to take us back to Lindbergh Field so we could get my car from the parking lot there. Unfortunately, it was too late to go by the police station and answer their questions about our dealings with John, but I couldn’t say that I was overly disappointed. I was exhausted from the trip and was looking forward to getting Taylor settled at my house before she changed her mind.
“Boy, my cousin sure lives the life, doesn’t he?” I toyed with the ends of Taylor’s hair while she rested against my shoulder. The back of the luxurious car had more than enough room, but we sat side by side regardless.
“It was very nice of him to do all of this for us,” she answered quietly.
“Yes, it was.” I would give the guy credit where it was due. We would probably still be sitting in an airport somewhere if it wasn’t for him.
“I need to go by my apartment and get some things,” she said, staring out the window.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not tonight.” It was like pulling the pin out of a hand grenade and then counting down the seconds until the explosion occurred.
Three.
Two.
One.
“What am I supposed to wear to work? This?” She looked down at the gauzy sundress she was wearing, flipping the hem up with a feisty hand gesture.
“Killian said the police have the whole place sealed off because it’s a crime scene. You won’t be able to go in there without a police escort anyway. Why don’t we go by the mall and you can just pick a few things up?”
Three.
Two.
One.
“A few things. Of course. Because I have an endless supply of money, Mac. Because I grow the stuff on a plant on my windowsill at the office. And hey, why not just buy a whole new wardrobe while I’m at it?” She pulled out of my arms and scooted a few inches away on the seat before I could react.
“You don’t have to be difficult, baby.” I was tempted to just stop the car, drag her over my lap, and spank the reprimand into her. But we were both goddamned tired, and the shopping couldn’t wait. “I’d be happy to buy you what you need.”
I didn’t even have a chance to count down after that one. “I’m not being difficult,” she retorted, mocking my voice. “I’m being realistic.”
“Well, so am I. We can stop somewhere on the way home and get you some things to hold you over until we can get into your apartment.” I could tell she wasn’t happy about the plan, but surprisingly she didn’t argue further.
The driver dropped us off at my car and helped me load our luggage into my trunk before driving away. The poor guy looked like he wanted to get back in the car as quickly as possible before he did or said something to cross my sassy little queen.
“Where to, my lady?” I glanced at the woman pouting in the passenger seat, attempting to be bright with my tone. Yeah, me, being “bright.” I was really whipped for this woman. “I’m…uh…sure you know the shopping haunts in this town way better than I do. I know there’s a mall downtown here somewhere, and I know there’s one in Carlsbad closer to the house, but that’s about it.” She could grumble all she wanted. We were not going to her apartment until the police cleared us to do so.
“But I have a perfectly fine wardrobe at my apartment. This is just wasting money.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed.
“Taylor, please. Most women would jump at the chance to go shopping with someone else’s credit card.”
“I’m not like most women, am I?” she snapped, and for some reason, her nasty attitude was doing weird things to my cock. Sexy good things.
“No, my love, you most definitely are not. And for that, I am ever thankful.” I leaned over and kissed her, softly at first, but hunger quickly built, and I deepened the kiss, tangling my tongue with hers until a soft moan came from low in her throat. I pulled back to see her eyes still closed, her lips parted on a sigh.
“Death by clown,” she murmured, touching her lips with her fingertips.
“What?” I chuckled.
“Death by clown—that’s what my obituary will read,” she said, finally opening her eyes. Then she randomly blurted, “Fashion Valley will be fine.” She was referring to the mall where she wanted to stop.
“That’s the center off Friars Road?” I asked to confirm I had my bearings. I still got confused at times with the different parts of the city.
“Yeah.” She sighed again, looking out the window as we eased onto Harbor Drive. “This has always been one of my favorite views in San Diego. This strip right here.” She motioned to the view out the window to our right and shrugged. “It’s just so, I don’t know… San Diego.”
“I agree. You get a perfect vibe of the city just in this one vignette.” It gave me an excellent gift idea for her upcoming birthday in the next few months. I stored the notion away with a few others I had come up with.
The mall was pretty crowded with after-work shoppers and people out for dinner. We stuck to the larger department stores and
ended up leaving with at least a week’s worth of work clothes, lingerie, pajamas, and some casual clothes for around the house. My suggestion for her to walk around naked while at home seemed to fall on deaf ears.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked when we got back in the car. I had piled all the shopping bags in the back seat since the trunk was packed to its limit with our luggage.
“I’m paying you back for all of this,” she stated matter-of-factly while checking her lipstick in the mirror of the visor.
“We’ll see,” I humored her while easing the car out of the parking space.
“I’m serious, Mac. I said I would move in with you. I didn’t say I was looking for a sugar daddy.”
“There’s a difference between me wanting to buy things for you and me being your sugar daddy.” I spat the comeback, not regretting a single syllable. “Jesus Christ, woman. Why is it so hard for you to accept things from me? If you bought me something, I wouldn’t think there were strings attached. I would just think you saw something and you thought of me or you just wanted to do something nice for me. Where did this twisted quid pro quo thing come from?” I looked back and forth from the road to her, genuinely wanting to hear her answer.
She sat quietly for a while as we drove north toward Oceanside. Just when I thought she wasn’t going to answer at all, she finally said, “It’s because of Janet.”
“What is?” I asked to clarify.
“My screwed-up rationale.”
“About receiving gifts?”
“Yeah. Think about it. For as long as I can remember, when a man bought her something, she was either sleeping with him or selling drugs for him. Whatever the case, she always owed him something afterward. Nothing was free and clear. There were always strings attached. That’s all I’ve ever known.” She put her hand up to stop me from talking, even though I hadn’t made a move to interrupt her. “It’s not fair to put that baggage on you,” she stated. “I know that. But I hope you can see that I’m trying. I mean, do you see that? How I’m trying?”
The sun was setting, but the way the car was lit, I could see her eyes were welling with tears. I took her hand and held it to my lips, kissing her soft skin several times before answering. “I do. I see it, Sassy. You’re so amazing. So brave and beautiful. I see it.”