by Lacey Black
Lena watches my movements but doesn’t reply right away. She glances down and sees Oliver tucked against her side, sawing logs. She lifts the arm he’s not using as a pillow and says, “He’s only been out for about an hour,” she whispers back.
“I’ll put him down in the portable crib,” I reply, carefully lifting him from his sleeping position and bring him up to my chest. Oliver wiggles, but settles back down right away.
I take him into the back room of the motorhome, the one I’ve been using as my bedroom. It’s not huge, by any means, but large enough to fit a full-sized bed, a small dresser, and the portable crib. I tried to get Lena to sleep there, but she flat out refused, telling me she’d be perfectly fine in the bunk. Not that it’s a normal bunk. This one is missing the top bunk and has enough room for a dresser at the opposite side of the space. There’s a bifold door that gives it privacy from the rest of the living space.
I place a kiss on Oliver’s soft head before lying him down. He acts as if he’s going to holler but ends up drifting back to sleep. A quick glance at my watch tells me I have about two more hours before he’s ready for more food. Just enough time for another shower and a little shut-eye.
Grabbing a pair of shorts from the dresser, I strip down to my boxer briefs, tossing my dirty clothes in the portable hamper in the closet. I place my watch on the dresser top beside my wallet and carefully slip out of the room. The bifold is pulled closed so I quietly slip over to the main door and make sure it’s locked. I should definitely not be walking around in my underwear, but everyone is asleep, so I don’t worry too much. Besides, not the first time I’ve been busted in my underwear in public.
But that’s a story for another time.
As quiet as a mouse, I slip past the door for Lena’s space and approach the bathroom. One of the main reasons I chose this motorhome over the others was because it had one big bathroom, as opposed to two tiny ones. I felt the bigger shower stall and more wiggle room to get ready was the way to go. Besides, you never know when that bigger shower will come in handy…
I’m grinning as I reach for the knob and pull on the door. I’m so lost in the dirty images parading through my mind, I don’t even notice the light. Or the water running. Or the very naked woman standing in front of me.
But I notice now.
All of it.
It’s like my fantasy brought to life.
Chapter Eleven
Lena
The moment the door is pulled open, I freeze. There’s only one person who could have opened that door. The cooler air from the main living space kisses my flushed skin, and I can feel his eyes rake over my body.
Like a kiss.
A quick glance over my shoulder confirms my suspicions. Mack is just staring at my backside, openly gawking at my nakedness. I open my mouth to say something clever, something witty, but nothing comes out. Instead, I just watch him, as he watches me.
When our eyes finally meet, his burn with a fire I haven’t seen in a long time. Three years, to be exact. It burns my skin and sears my soul. “I should apologize for bursting in on you.” He takes a step into the room, the door automatically swinging closed behind him. “I should turn around and give you the privacy you deserve.” Another step forward. He’s so close now. I can smell his cologne, feel the heat from his skin.
Mack reaches his hand up. There’s a slight tremble in his fingers as he gently slides them down my cheek. I’m pretty sure I’m not breathing, anticipation stronger than my need for oxygen.
“I shouldn’t want to kiss you right now,” he rasps, his fingers trailing down my neck.
I find myself leaning into his touch as goosebumps pepper my exposed skin. My hand slides around his side, reveling in the heat of his skin beneath my own fingers. “Maybe you should ignore that part of your brain,” I croak as I press my naked chest against his, “and just kiss me.”
He does. Hard. His lips are demanding, bruising as he moves me, my back pressing firmly against the shower stall. Water pelts us in the face, but it doesn’t seem to slow us down any. All I can feel is his lips, his hands, oh and his very impressive erection, sandwiched between our bodies.
My hands are everywhere, exploring and reacquainting myself with the man he became. He’s harder than before, and no, I’m not talking about his impressive hard-on. I’m talking about his body. His arms, his chest, his abs, hell, even his thighs. Mack from three years ago had taken care of his body, but Mack of today is like a god chiseled from granite. Perfection in human form.
When he rips his lips from mine, his heavily lidded eyes rake over my body. I can feel his gaze, like a caress to my skin, as if they were to physically touch me like the water cascading down my torso. A part of me is self-conscious. I’ve only been naked in front of a man once since my time with Mack, and it was never like this.
All-consuming.
His eyes return to mine with a parade of emotions, but they’re pushed aside quickly. All I can see now is lust. Long fingers glide across my throat and angle downward. I hold my breath as he reaches the valley between my breasts. Anticipation burns through my veins, his eyes blazing a trail of heat as he follows the trek down my chest.
“All I could think about tonight was you.” He doesn’t move his hand to touch my breasts, and the question is written on his face. He’s seeking permission.
To touch me.
A million things fly through my mind, but I just keep going back to one of them: I want him. So that’s why I shift, causing his hand to brush against my breast. A warm tingle sweeps through my body as his eyes dance with desire. My nipples pebble under the warm water and his piercing gaze.
“Mack?” I whisper. “Touch me.”
One thing I’ve always loved about Mack Cruz is you never have to ask him twice. His calloused hands cup my breasts, his skilled fingers pinching my nipples. Waves of pleasure sweep through me as I reach out and slip a finger into the waistband of his wet boxer briefs. Mack’s free hand glides along my side and slips behind my back until it settles on my ass.
I can’t help but smirk up at him. “You’ve always been an ass man.”
He lets out a snort. “True, but I believe it’s more accurate to say I’ve always been a Lena man.”
And then he kisses me, hard and fast. Our hands are everywhere, our bodies starting to speak to one another. He lifts me easily, my legs snaking around his waist. The movement causes glorious friction of his erection right where I need it. My pussy throbs, each thrust of his hips bringing me closer and closer to release, and he’s still wearing his underwear. “I can’t…I need…” I gasp, unable to process a complete sentence.
Mack stops moving, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you sure?”
I’m already nodding my head before he’s even finished asking. “Yes.”
He swallows hard, the water hitting his chest and splattering on his face. “I don’t have any protection with me,” he confesses, the regret flashing across his gorgeous face.
“I’m on the pill still,” I reassure.
He watches me for a few long seconds. “Are you sure? We can wait,” he says, his voice thick and heavy, as if it’s painful for him to speak those words.
“I’m clean, Mack. I promise.”
“Me too, Lean. I swear.”
I wiggle against his cock. “I trust you.”
That’s all it takes. He reaches below and pushes down his boxer briefs without dropping me in the process. He moves to pin me against the side wall where the water hits his back, his underwear stuck around his thighs, and his lips claiming mine as he goes. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding myself up as his hands grip my ass. His cock slides along my clit, a combination of a gasp and a moan pulled from my lungs.
He lines us up, rips his lips from mine, and meets my gaze. I know what he’s asking without him saying a word, and my response is a nod. Slowly, he starts to enter me, the stretch very real and causing the slightest discomfort. God, I forgot how big this man is. A hiss slips from my
lips, causing him to pause.
Mack bends down, his lips grazing against mine, slow and seductive, and I feel myself relax against him. He gently pulls out until only the head of his cock remains, and the moment I think he’s changed his mind, he thrusts—hard—burying himself completely inside of me. I gasp, but not from pain, from the fullness. The sense of completion.
With the water pelting his back, Mack moves his hips and all I can do is hang on and enjoy the ride. The sound of our skin slapping fills the small space as he moves one hand around from my ass to my chest. He slides it up to my neck, his thumb grazing over the pulse point in my neck. I’m sure he can feel it jackhammer.
My body starts to tighten around him, my internal muscles gripping his shaft like a vise. With each thrust, I feel him hit that magical place deep inside me as he grinds against my swollen clit. He keeps a steady pace, stroke after stroke, taking us to the release we both crave. His hands slide in my hair. With a slight tug, he exposes my neck, his lips descending. First he sucks my sensitive skin, then skims his teeth over it, and that’s when I feel my orgasm begin.
It starts deep in my stomach and screams through my limbs and throat. Mack silences me with his mouth, swallowing my orgasm with his kisses. I can feel when his own release begins. He thrusts his hips hard before stilling, buried deep inside of me, my muscles pulsing around him. I cry out again as he presses me hard into the wall, mumbling something I can’t hear against my neck.
I’m grateful to not be standing right now. My body is completely boneless, and I wasn’t the one doing any of the work.
Sliding my hands into his hair, I just breathe him in, committing this moment to memory. The feel of his skin against mine, the way his heavy breathing weighs on my neck, even the tickle of his chest hair against my nipples. I memorize all of it, so when it’s gone, I’ll have those recollections to keep me company.
Mack starts to sag, his body unable to hold me up any longer. My feet hit the wet shower floor and almost don’t even hold my own body weight. But I have nothing to worry about. Mack is there, helping hold me. His hands are gentle as they caress my back, his lips soft as they kiss my shoulder. It’s funny, neither of us have really said a word, yet no words are needed.
We just are.
Together.
With a bar of soap that smells just like him, he lathers up my body, starting with my arms and working his way down. When he reaches my pussy, he offers me a smirk as he carefully washes away any traces of sex, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. He’s such a man.
After he’s done washing me, the water turns cold quickly, a reminder of the small water heater on board the motorhome. I jump back, careful to avoid the rapidly cooling water, while Mack washes himself from head to toe in about thirty seconds.
“Shit, that’s cold,” he mumbles, as he quickly turns off the water and shakes his head.
I reach for a towel and dry off, all the while watching his lithe movements and hard body as he does the same. He even busts me a few seconds later, ogling his amazing ass as he dries his feet.
With my towel wrapped around my body, I turn to face Mack. Nerves settle in and I’m not really sure why. I mean, I do know why, mostly because I’ve just slept with my ex-boyfriend, and I’m not really sure what happens next. Do I thank him for the ride, for old times’ sake? Turn and slip back into my bunk as if nothing happened?
Mack must sense the questions running through my mind. He wraps his towel around his waist and turns to me. With his hands on my upper arms, he moves forward and places a tender kiss on my lips. “I know we probably just complicated the hell out of everything and have a ton of things to discuss, but tonight, I just want to hold you. No talk of the past or the future, Lean. Just let me hold you tonight. Please?”
My heart skips in my chest, and it’s hard to speak. He’s absolutely right. We just muddied the hell out of the water, and we’ll definitely have to deal with it at some point. But tonight, I’m okay with just…being. With him holding me as I drift off to sleep. That’s why the only reply I can give is, “Okay.”
Silently, we leave the bathroom and head to the room in back. I can’t help but check on Oliver, who’s sleeping away, oblivious to the emotional tsunami surrounding his dad and me. Mack opens a drawer and pulls out a pair of shorts and slips them on. He takes a T-shirt out and tosses it in my direction. “I’d much rather fall asleep with you naked, but with Oliver’s feeding schedule and the early morning return to LA, I’d feel better if we’re both covered. Plus, my guys are assholes and are looking for any excuse to get in here, if only to tease the hell out of me for seeing you naked.”
Well, as much as I’d prefer to sleep next to him in the buff, the thought of his team finding me with no clothes on has me reaching for the shirt and slipping it on. It hits mid-thigh and when I glance down, I can’t help but smile. It’s a racing shirt with his number and car on the front, his name printed across the back.
Mack gives me an appreciative look and whispers, “Yeah, that shirt looks way better on you than me.”
I climb into bed and slip beneath the covers. At first, I keep to the far side, but the moment Mack flips off the remaining lights and climbs into bed, the distance between us evaporates. He pulls me into his arms, my head resting comfortably on his chest. With a deep sigh, I feel the long day just melt away as I completely relax in his embrace.
Sure, there’s questions and uncomfortable conversations in our future, but not tonight. Tonight, I get to fall asleep all warm and toasty, wrapped in Mack’s arms. Just like I used to.
As I drift off to sleep, I try not to think about how perfect this really feels. I try not to imagine what it would be like to fall asleep like this every night.
For the rest of my life.
If I do, I’m liable to get caught up in a fantasy.
***
I’m startled awake, the feeling of the motorhome moving beneath me overwhelming. I glance around, realizing I’m in Mack’s bed still, and I’m the only one. Even Oliver’s playpen is empty. Gingerly, I slip out of the bed and poke my head around the corner. I see the driver behind the wheel as we head down the interstate, and to my left, Fish sitting on the small couch, feeding Oliver. Mack is beside him, his head leaned back against the wall and his mouth hanging open as he sleeps.
It was a long night.
The moment we started to drift to sleep, Oliver decided it was time to party. He stayed up until four, only to drift off for another hour before waking back up again. Even after Mack insisted I go back to bed, there was no way I could fall asleep. Not with Oliver fussing on and off the entire time.
“You’re like a dream there, darlin’, except in my dream, you’re not wearing my buddy’s shirt.” Fish’s soft Southern accent makes me smile.
I step into the main area of the motorhome, while trying to conceal my bare legs. “How long has he been out?” I whisper, nodding toward Mack.
“Only about ten minutes or so. We’re getting close to home though, so his nap is short lived.”
“Why didn’t he wake me up?” I ask through a yawn.
Fish chuckles. “He tried when we were leaving about forty-five minutes ago. Not the way I’d prefer to wake a woman, but Cruz doesn’t have my suave moves.” The big guy throws me a wink and a big cheesy grin.
I backstep toward my little area, pointing at it over my shoulder. “I’m going to…you know…”
“Don’t put on pants on my account, Lena.” Again, he laughs, letting me know he’s joking.
Well, at least I think he is…
Ignoring the low hum of his laughter, I slip into my bunk and pull the door closed, throwing on the first pair of shorts I can find. We’re almost home, so I can worry about showering and actually making myself presentable later. Right now, I’d prefer to have on pants while engaging in conversation with Mack’s best friend.
When I slip out of the bunk, Fish is burping Oliver. I can’t help but stand and stare. The baby was very unhappy this morning, s
o to see him calm and content with Fish grinds on my nerves a little.
“I heard this little one was a ball of fire this morning,” Fish says, keeping his eyes on the task at hand.
“It was rough,” I confirm, sliding into the chair across from the small couch.
“That’ll happen. My baby sister, Daphne, she had her days and nights mixed up. When my parents couldn’t stand anymore from exhaustion, I’d step in and help. They called me the Baby Whisperer ’cause I could always get her to settle down and sleep.”
Even after just a few brief interactions I’ve seen between Fish and Oliver, I can tell his statement is true. He definitely has a way with babies. “You’ll make a great dad someday,” I tell him, pulling my knees up to my chest and tucking the large shirt around them.
His eyes dance with a fire I haven’t seen before. “Thanks,” he finally replies, glancing down at the little one in his arms. “I definitely want to be a dad.”
When we hit the 110, traffic starts to crawl along. I find it easy to sit and talk to Fish. He’s not judging me for my little walk of shame. He doesn’t seem bothered by my wild unbrushed hair or my lack of good oral hygiene. He just goes with the flow, talks about whatever’s on his mind, and holds Oliver while he sleeps.
Eventually, we finally reach Mack’s subdivision and pull into his long driveway. The driver pulls up and stops on the far end of the pavement, leaving plenty of room to gain access to the back garage. This is where they’ll leave the motorhome until we use it in two weeks for Portland.
“Home sweet home,” the driver, Randy, says as he shuts down the engine and gets out of the front seat. His personal vehicle is in front of the other garage, and he starts to load his bags into the trunk.
Mack jumps awake, realizing we’re not moving. “We’re home?” he asks, his voice sleepy and hoarse.
“We are,” Fish confirms. “Ollie here was a perfect angel for me. Maybe it’s you he doesn’t like,” he teases, but I can tell when Mack goes rigid, his face tight, that he might have hit a nerve.