by Marina Adair
Mackenzie had made it more than clear that when this was over, they’d go back to their separate lives. It was no secret she’d been stuck in a revolving door of disappointment, and he refused to be another person who let her down.
Blowing this wasn’t an option. If they went there—neither was walking away.
“Be sure, Mackenzie, because this is a game changer. Once this happens, there’s no going back.” He gave her a moment to weigh the outcome. A moment to make sure this was really what she wanted.
Because he knew what he wanted. And it was more than one night.
Hunter had taken the past few weeks to slowly uncover the many different shades of Mackenzie, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d uncovered them all. Which could take a lifetime. Something he was okay with.
In fact, he preferred it.
Mackenzie wasn’t a burn-hot-and-fast kind of woman. Nope, she was beautifully complex, an intoxicating mix of sweetness and fire meant to be savored. And he wanted to be the guy lucky enough to experience each and every nuance of Mackenzie. The new, the old, and everything in between.
“I’ve spent most of my life looking back. When I’m with you, all I want to do is move forward.” Threading her fingers in his hair, she gave him a taste of what was to come. And if her tongue in his mouth wasn’t a clear affirmation of just how far tonight was going to take them, then the way her body shrink-wrapped to his sure was.
Proving to her that she wasn’t in this alone, Hunter did his part, eating off every inch of frosting, going back for a second pass just to be sure. And when her head tilted back, he trailed little kisses down her throat, tugging at the collar of the sweatshirt to get a hint of the creamy cleavage he’d been dreaming about.
Christ, she looked good in his shirt.
Feels even better, he thought as he walked her backward and up against the counter. Soft and curvy and so fucking perfect his hands shook as he molded them over her body. She didn’t seem to mind, since those talented fingers of hers were doing a little molding of their own.
Down his chest to his abs, carefully exploring his stomach before dipping under the hem of his shirt. Her warm skin on his sent one hell of a thrill through his body that settled right behind his button fly.
“I want to feel you,” she said, her hands tugging at his shirt.
Always the gentleman, Hunter gave her what she wanted. Scooping her up, he sat her spectacularly stubborn and sexy ass right there on the counter, then pressed himself between her legs. Making sure she felt all of him.
Front and center.
“I meant lose the shirt, but that works too,” she said with a sweet smile.
“You’re right,” he said. “Where are my manners? Shirt first. That second.” Hunter eased his thumbs under the hem of her sweatshirt and slowly tugged it up, his thumbs reaching the underside of her breasts when she stopped him.
“Your shirt,” she clarified.
“Sorry, where I come from, it’s always ladies first.” With a final tug, it was over her head and on the floor and—a-fucking-men—what a sight.
There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to accurately describe the view. In fact, he was pretty sure it qualified as the eighth wonder of the world. Her pink lace showed just enough peaks and valleys to officially blow his mind.
“Well, where I come from, it’s ladies’ choice,” she whispered and gave his shirt a hard tug. “Lose the clothes, Hunter.”
“Lucky for you I’m a compromising man.” He yanked his shirt off with one hand as the other went for the frosting. “How about ladies’ choice and ladies first?”
“I’ve always had a secret love of duets,” she admitted.
“Well then, it seems we’re perfectly matched.” And man, that sounded good. “With so many interesting options, what do you choose first? Here?” His finger, thoroughly frosted, traced her lower lip. Next came the valley between those perfect tens. “Or here?”
Mackenzie let loose a surprised but sexy little moan that drove him crazy, so he decided to take a little detour and frost one pink-laced peak, then the other, loving how ragged her breathing became with each stroke.
“And don’t forget, we also have here.” He painted a sugary trail down her stomach, watching her muscles contract and ripple as the frosting disappeared beneath the waistband of her shorts. “What will it be, Trouble?”
“Most songwriters would start from the top. But I find it more creative when you start from the hook and work your way backward.” She rested her palms behind her on the counter. “Hook me, Hunter.”
“Who am I to argue with a lady?” Hands back on her ass, he slid her forward to the edge of the counter until her cupcakes were eye level, puckered, and frosted for his tasting pleasure.
“It’s hotter down south,” she said, even as her breath caught.
“You said the hook, not the climax. And trust me, you’re about to be hooked.”
Hunter considered himself a man of action who always delivered on his promises, so when he pulled her into his mouth, he took extra care in teasing and licking off the frosting, making sure he didn’t miss even a drop before giving her nipple a gentle bite.
“So hooked.” She sighed, her hands tracing his face, his jaw, his shoulders. Everywhere they could reach. They never stopped exploring, even as her head fell back, giving him an all-access pass to explore, which, of course, he took.
His mouth moved down into the valley, where he noticed a few spots that he couldn’t reach.
“I’m a big fan of pink lace,” he whispered against her skin. “But this has to go.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him as she unlatched her bra and slid it down her arms. “There’s more.” And that’s when the show part of show-and-tell started.
And what a show it was.
Mackenzie undid the top button of her shorts and lowered the zipper, just enough so that—
“Holy Christ,” he breathed. Because there, beneath her cutoffs, was the ninth wonder of the world: the teeniest, tiniest pink thong ever created. Powerful enough to render a man speechless and sexy enough to stop his heart.
“I did warn you that it was hotter down there.”
“The temperature is about to climb, Trouble.” Hunter placed her hands on his face, letting her trace his jaw as he trailed long, hot kisses along her rib cage and across her belly button. Her fingers shook, and her stomach quivered the farther south he ventured.
When he got to the lace edging of her panties, the frosting ran out, but Hunter didn’t stop, because why the hell would he? This close to heaven? There was no way.
Not that it mattered because, when he pressed an openmouthed kiss right beneath the waistband, her skin was sweeter than any frosting or dessert he’d ever tasted. To be sure, he sank to his knees while pressing her legs wider, desperate to get a better taste—right in the middle of her cotton shorts.
Her body came off the counter, and Hunter’s breath caught at the pressure against the back of his fly.
“So sweet,” he groaned, making a second pass. And Mackenzie, always the helper, pressed up into him, giving him a taste that rocked his world. By the third, he slowly slid her shorts down her legs, leaving her in nothing but the thong—which he tugged to the side and—
“There,” she moaned. “I choose there!”
He seconded that motion. Deciding he could stay right fucking there all night. It was like the sweet spot of a song, where he’d fall into the pocket and never want to leave. She clung to him as if she was on board with that idea, so Hunter settled in for the long haul.
He used his tongue, his teeth, playing her body until she was gasping his name. Until her body climbed so high it vibrated. She drew tighter and tighter, until he felt her clench. Felt her body go from fire, to molten lava, to nuclear-fucking-explosion.
“Now for that climax we talked about,” he said right before he took the entire thing from the top again, adding more pressure and giving her so much heat that her body melted back
on the counter.
Panties now on the floor, he pressed her legs farther apart with his broad shoulders and frosted her up the center. She gasped at the sensation of cold on slick heat, then moaned low and long as his tongue soothed her. Over and over again, steadily making his way home.
He slid one finger inside, loving how her legs squeezed him as if to hold him there. Like he was going anywhere.
Her hips pressed forward to deepen the friction, so he added a second finger, slowly and deliberately driving her right to the edge. All she needed was the perfect stroke, and she was going to fly apart.
He wanted to savor her all night but knew she was holding on by a thread. So was he.
With one well-placed kiss, he had her shuddering, and then came the stroke, right over her swollen, wet flesh, and she exploded. Just like he knew she would. Her release was so forceful he felt it radiate through his own body, until it shredded what was left of his control.
Mackenzie seemed to be in the same boat, because even as she was vibrating with aftershocks, her hands were on his jeans, unbuttoning and yanking.
“I want that,” she said, and he had just enough time to grab the condom from his back pocket before she freed him and sent his jeans around his ankles.
Getting the condom on was a little more difficult, since Mackenzie insisted on lending her hand to the cause. Only she was doing more touching than helping, and Hunter’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Her hands made a path from base to tip and back again, curving around him and exploring with a gentle curiosity that slayed him.
“Slow down, Trouble,” he said. “This is still ladies’ choice.”
“Good, because I want to see all of you.”
Placing his hand on hers, he stilled her movement. “You’re going to see us right through to the finish line at that pace. And I want to finish with you around me.”
“Like this?” she asked, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Good choice,” he groaned, covering himself and sliding home in one desperate stroke.
She gasped. He didn’t move. Just stood there, holding on tightly and welcoming the feeling of finally being inside her, being with her. Drinking in the sight of her.
Head thrown back, those long curls of hers spilling around her bare body and flirting with his forearms. But it was her expression that got to him. Full of warmth and wonder, not resignation.
This, he thought. This right here was the Mackenzie he remembered.
Free, passionate, so bright with life she shone. And so incredibly in the moment, her body wrapped around his, squeezing tighter and tighter until he was sure he’d suffocate.
What a hell of a way to go.
“If it’s my choice,” she whispered against his neck, “I choose you.”
The silence after Mackenzie’s announcement was so thick she was afraid to breathe.
Maybe because Hunter had sucked in a breath big enough to deplete the room of oxygen at her confession. It was as if those three little words had leveled the moment. As if she’d said the other three little words instead. And she was afraid that if she let it settle too long, the night would be ruined. But if she loosened her hold, it would all slip away.
And she’d start crying.
She hadn’t meant for it to come out. But she’d never been chosen. Had gone her entire life choosing people who were unable to really choose her back, to put her needs first. Not that they wouldn’t, but they couldn’t.
Her solution had been to go it alone.
That was before she’d understood how powerful she could feel with someone by her side. Giving as much as they took.
Hunter was an easy choice. He was genuine and brave and had this amazing capacity to love.
Mackenzie was a harder choice. She understood that. So it was okay if he didn’t choose her back.
At least that’s what she told herself. Because while making this work for the long term would require sacrifice on both sides, Hunter would be the one who’d sacrifice the most. Which was why she decided to pretend, for the moment, that it would work—that they worked—and fell heart first into his embrace.
Only she didn’t crash. Hunter was right there, holding her tightly. His strong arms came around to cradle her to him as he took her mouth in a kiss that was as sweet as it was drugging. Slow and languid and tender, one fading into the next.
The franticness from earlier was replaced by a warm confidence that moved between them, connecting them in a way that was breathtaking.
He slid one palm up her side, cradling the back of her head. The other drifted south to caress her butt, rocking her toward him, against him, until she felt full and complete—as if she’d finally found what she’d been missing.
She didn’t know how else to explain it. The hollowness inside warmed and spilled over, filling her in a way that was healing. It was the way he touched her, she decided, the way he held her as if she were enough.
“You feel perfect,” he breathed against her mouth.
And just like that, Mackenzie fell. Fast and completely. The truthfulness in his words shook her entire being, and oh boy, this didn’t feel like pretend anymore.
Nope, his kisses were so achingly gentle she felt delicate, feminine, and utterly adored. They melted Mackenzie’s heart as he pressed them slowly down her neck to her shoulder until the past three years fell away, and Mackenzie had no choice but to let go of the what-ifs and open herself up to the possibility of more. A feeling she had missed, and now that she’d found it again, she desperately wanted to cling to it with everything that she had.
Afraid she really was going to cry—or admit something even more embarrassing, like she still loved him—Mackenzie focused on the pleasure. Gave herself over to the slow withdrawals and even slower thrusts. Loved that he couldn’t be rushed. That he wanted her to enjoy every moment and wanted to enjoy the moment with her.
“Mackenzie.” He whispered her name as if to start a confession she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear. Not right then. So she silenced him with her mouth.
Cupping his face, letting the soft stubble of his beard slide through her fingers, she poured everything she felt but was afraid to say into that kiss. He got on board immediately, cupping her butt and lifting her up, only to slide her back down the length of him.
“So good,” she said at the sensation.
“I was aiming for fucking perfect,” he corrected, lifting her and letting her fall back down. Only this time he rose to meet her and . . . perfect indeed.
“Again,” she begged, tightening her arms around his neck.
Always the overachiever, Hunter did it several times, and the combination of the friction and pressure had them both groaning in pleasure. Before long, their bodies were slick with heat, sliding against each other, ramping up the anticipation of what was to come until she thought she’d die from the pleasure.
“There,” she moaned. “Right there!”
And there they went, finding their perfect rhythm. So in tune with each other, it pushed her up, and up, and up.
And ladies’ choice was now her first choice because the anticipation didn’t even come close to preparing her for the sensation that followed, rocking her world and sending her over the edge into a Hunter-induced explosion of bliss.
Hunter continued to pump, sending more little tremors through her. Continued to harden inside her until he followed her over with an explosion of his own, his entire body shaking around hers as he reached his release.
“God, Trouble,” he groaned, his head arching back before coming to rest on her shoulder.
Her body wrapped limply around his. Both breathing hard, they held on until she felt the cool spring air roll over her heated skin, leaving goose bumps.
He lifted his head and kissed her forehead. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said with a goofy grin on her face.
“Then you want to repeat what you said back there?” he asked, and her smile vanished.
“It’s not polite to ask a lady what she says in bed,” Mackenzie said, letting go and sliding to the floor.
“Good thing we aren’t in bed.” He took her hands, preventing her escape. “And I wasn’t talking about your dirty talk, although the ‘God, Hunter’ part was pretty hot and will play in my head for years to come. I was more interested in what you chose.”
She remained silent, and he lifted her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist. “No going back, remember?”
Oh, she remembered. And now that she wasn’t in a lust-driven state, she didn’t know what she’d been thinking.
“I’m pretty sure you said you choose me.”
“I can’t remember, I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Had she been, she never would have admitted that. Not to the guy who needed to be everyone’s personal hero.
“Well, I hope you’re listening clearly,” he said, placing her hands on his face, encouraging her to feel. Instead of the shocked horror she expected, he wore a genuine smile that gave life to the bead of hope she’d buried deep inside. “Because I choose you back, Mackenzie Hart. Freely and willingly, I choose us.”
CHAPTER 16
It’s damn good to be Hunter Kane these days, he thought with a goofy-as-shit grin plastered to his face.
It had been more than twenty-four hours since he’d last helped Mackenzie, twenty-four hours since he’d kissed her as he headed out to meet with the label, and he could still taste her on his lips. He’d been so punch-drunk he’d had a hard time focusing on the negotiations at hand.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Paul said, enough hero worship in his tone that he had Brody rolling his eyes. “They walked in here ready to dump our asses, and in one conversation, you convinced them to send us on a world tour.”
It had taken more than one conversation. In fact, the negotiations had begun early the previous morning in Brody’s office and lasted well into the night. Hunter had undergone a long succession of tedious meetings, beginning with the tour sponsors and ending with Lionel Drake, the head of the label.