“Mack,” Kalia gasped as a wave of sensation rocked her. Mack fluttered his fingers over the warm, wet skin, and caught her when she buckled with the orgasm. She turned, buried her head in his shoulder, and clung tight.
Mack swept her up, grabbed the box of condoms, and headed upstairs.
Kalia trailed kisses down his neck.
Mack gently lowered her to the bed and, after stripping off his shirt, covered her with his weight. Their lips met in greedy kisses as her hands raced over Mack’s smooth skin.
She reached for the zipper, undid Mack’s jeans, pulled them down over his hips, and slid her hands around to the front.
Mack groaned and grabbed her hands, capturing them above her head. Their tongues danced, and Mack moved lower to nip at firm nipples through the silk fabric. She arched up to meet him. He lifted the silk over her head, released her bra, and ran light fingers over the bare skin.
“You’re so beautiful, Kalia,” he whispered.
He began a slow, tortuous journey of open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, taking his time, tasting her skin, skimming lower and brushing the sensitive skin of each breast. Kalia’s arms felt leaden as sensation washed over her.
“Mack, inside,” she groaned.
“I’m getting there,” he drawled.
He continued down, over the smooth skin of her belly, and ran his hands down her legs, tugging off clothes as he went.
His fingers stroked and tickled as he worked his way back up. Her breath caught when he reached the top of her thigh.
“Mack.” She pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. She wanted to rush, but the sight of his chest, the rippled muscles of his belly, made her slow down. So smooth. So firm. And he was ticklish. She grinned when he squirmed and reached for her hands. She linked her hands with his and drew them aside, bending to press kisses on the sensitive skin. Her tongue swirled lower, tasting the saltiness. She inhaled his musky scent.
When his breath caught and he moaned her name, Kalia ripped open a condom, slid it over his silken length, and guided him inside.
They fit. He filled her completely.
She took her time, riding him slowly, taking him deeper, drawing it out. She leaned closer to kiss him, writhing when the pressure of his skin against hers was exactly right.
Kalia arched when his thumbs brushed her nipples. Her breasts, swollen and heavy, filled his hands.
He grabbed her hips and kneaded her skin, controlling the rhythm, quickening the dance.
With deep strokes, she tightened around him. Kalia threw back her head as the orgasm rocked her and he emptied himself inside her.
Spent, she lowered herself to his chest.
“I’ve always said you should eat dessert first,” he said, trailing his fingers down her back.
She pressed closer. “And we still have the chocolate sauce and flavored condoms.”
He hardened inside her.
After trying the ribbed condoms (meh), the cherry flavor (yum), and the scented condoms (definite no), they were relaxed and limber and definitely starving.
Mack pulled on his jeans and Kalia drew a sheer peignoir around herself. They headed to the kitchen to make the panini together.
“Seriously, you’re going to wear that and I’m supposed to focus on food,” Mack teased as he reached around and stroked her skin from chin to belly.
Kalia laughed, leaned into his touch, and then swayed away. “Open the wine,” she said and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Mack uncorked the bottle and poured it into the goblets as Kalia layered the sandwiches and set them on the grill.
They set everything on a tray and, grabbing the chocolate sauce and whipping cream, carried it back to the bedroom. Kalia drew the curtains closed and turned on some music as Mack lit the candles that Kalia had placed around the room.
When Mack took the first bite of his sandwich, Kalia paused and stared at him. “Your body is beautiful,” she said.
Mack looked up with laughing eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line? Your body is beautiful,” he said smoothly. “See, it’s a girl word.”
“A girl word?” she said indignantly. “What’s the boy word?”
“Ripped,” he said, taking another mouthful.
Kalia laughed. “Really?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Okay. You’re ripped,” she said huskily and she drew her hand lightly down his chest to the button of his jeans.
Mack choked on his sandwich and cleared his throat, “Yeah, um, much better.”
“Mani’s quiet,” Mack said, a little while later, holding her close.
“Yeah. He wouldn’t go down for a nap today and was wiped by five o’clock. He sort of lost altitude when I fed him dinner and then fell asleep in his bowl. He’ll probably be up to feed again around midnight.” Kalia snuggled closer, listening to the steady rhythm of Mack’s heart.
“You do a good job with him. He’s lucky he’s got you.”
“I feel lucky to have him.”
Mack tugged on a comforter to cover them both. “It must be hard raising him on your own.” He brushed a wisp of hair from Kalia’s face. “You never mention the father.”
“No, he’s not in the picture.” Kalia’s heart squeezed.
“He wasn’t interested in helping out? Didn’t he want a baby?”
Kalia shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. “It’s complicated. When I found out I was pregnant, I decided to have the baby. I didn’t contact the father.”
Mack shifted to look at her. “You didn’t tell him you were pregnant?”
Kalia struggled with guilt and sadness. “No. No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t you think he had a right to know? That he should have some say in the decision? That he should, at least, be told he had a child?”
“I … I was going to …” she tried to explain, but trailed off, blinking back tears.
“When? When the time was right for you? After you made the decision without even acknowledging his part in it?”
Kalia stared at him, his body language and tone finally registering through her grief. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand.” He threw back the duvet and stood up. “I don’t understand how you could be so selfish, so arrogant, to keep something like that to yourself.” He tugged on his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ll never understand that,” he said in a quiet voice. He stopped and looked at her. “Look, you made the decision to do this on your own. I’ll just leave you to it. I’ll let myself out.” He strode out of the room.
“Mack … wait.” She heard the front door slam and slouched back against the bed.
What had happened? One minute they were having wild, crazy sex and the next he was slamming out the door.
She rubbed her hands over her face.
He’s right though. It had been selfish and arrogant, and she would regret it for the rest of her life. She felt tears sting her eyes and wished she could turn back the clock and do things differently. “Oh Alex. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
She curled up on the bed, and her toe caught the edge of her warm flannel robe. She slipped it on, wondering if Mack had pulled it out of her closet. It felt like a warm hug.
A little steadier, she dried her eyes. She wandered around the room, blowing out the candles, then changed the sheets on the bed and brushed her teeth. She craved a long soak in a hot tub, but Mani would be up soon to breastfeed. So she settled for a shower and enjoyed the stream of hot water over her tired muscles. As she toweled off, she heard Mani cry. She pulled on loose cotton pajamas and went to feed him.
Mack slammed into his house and rubbed his hands over his face.
“Goddamn it,” he swore as he threw his keys at the sturdy sideboard just inside the entrance.
He strode into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and pulled out a beer. He twisted off the cap with a jerk and threw it on the counter, watching it bounce against the backspla
sh and ricochet to the floor. Leaving it where it landed, he went into the living room and swept all the newspapers to the floor, clearing a space on the sofa to sit down. Putting his feet up on the coffee table, he grabbed the remote and started channel surfing, not really seeing what was on.
How could a woman be so goddamn selfish? It was Angie all over again. Coming to him, all proud of her independence, telling him she’d been pregnant and how she took care of it. Smiling and seductive, like nothing had happened and some child, his child, hadn’t been snuffed out without so much as an ounce of awareness that maybe, just maybe, he wanted a child.
He took a swig of beer. Why did women assume that? Did it even enter their minds that some men want to be responsible for their actions and want to know if they’ve fathered a child? Maybe even be proud and happy about it.
He sighed. Who was he kidding? Angie was an idiot. She would have been a horrible parent.
But goddamn it, he would have made a good dad. He really wanted a child. He would have had to figure out how to balance the whole touring shit, but he would have tried. He could have done it, worked something out. But he hadn’t been told, or asked, or even given a chance to try. And it really burned.
Mack drank his beer and brooded. He was still angry.
And Kalia would have done the same thing, he ranted to himself.
Except she had the baby. Didn’t tell the guy, but had the baby. Well, good for her. But what about the father? Shouldn’t he be told? Didn’t he have that right?
Mack finished his beer and looked at the empty bottle. He didn’t really feel any better. He sighed and thought he should do what he always did when he was frustrated and unhappy.
Drown it in music.
Chapter 21
Kalia got up the next morning and went into Mani’s room after listening to him babble and chirp for a few minutes.
“Good morning, little one.” She smiled as she lifted him out of his crib.
She changed his diaper, carried him down to the kitchen, and set him in his high chair. After putting a few Cheerios on his tray to keep him occupied, she opened the curtains, brewed her coffee, and made up his cereal.
She would go about her daily routine with Mani and hope she didn’t run into Mack.
Would she be a chicken if she ignored him? Pretend not to see him out on his deck or sitting on the front porch?
No, she didn’t think so. He obviously didn’t think much of her, and staying out of his way would be healthy for both of them. She was still raw over his words and needed time to heal the wounds he opened.
At about three a.m., she had figured out that she needed to forgive herself. Her intentions had been good. Maybe misguided, but at the time, it had felt right. She put everything she had into raising Mani and being a good mom. She wasn’t perfect, and it seemed there was always something to learn, but she was trying.
Alex would be proud, she thought. Proud of her for trying and of their beautiful son. She felt sure he knew. He was her guardian angel, wrapping her and Mani in comfort and support.
So if Mack couldn’t see beyond his shortsighted, pigheaded point of view, if he didn’t have the courtesy to hear her out and listen to her story, then he could just go to hell. His loss. Creep.
She’d had enough of the negative and from now on vowed to look for the positive. For her sake and Mani’s, she needed to move forward and leave the regrets behind. She wasn’t going to get her heart broken again. “Focus on the positive” would be her new mantra.
So if she ran into Mack, she would smile her brightest smile and let there be no regrets.
Well, except one, a small corner of her brain argued. They hadn’t opened the chocolate fudge sauce.
A week later, Kalia still stewed over Mack. She was sitting at her computer trying to do some work while Mani napped but was having trouble finding the focus she needed to get the job done. She refused to have regrets, but it still irked her that he thought so poorly of her.
She needed to set him straight. Make him see what a jackass he was. Because then she wouldn’t have any regrets, and her heart could heal. She could move on. She felt judged without a fair trial, and it pissed her off. Who did he think he was? Coming over, having mind-blowing sex, going on some rant about not telling Alex about the baby – what the hell was that all about anyway? – and breaking her heart. What was wrong with him?
She covered her ears when the music started. She hadn’t seen him, but she’d heard him. It was the same heart-wrenching melody all week. It was a complete one hundred and eighty degrees from the normally upbeat, snappy music he played.
She looked out the window and saw him sitting on his back porch playing the guitar. Her heart ached at the dark circles under his eyes and his unshaven face.
She stiffened her spine. He deserved it. Self-righteous nincompoop. She should just march over there and set him straight.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she yanked open the back door and walked stiffly over to his deck. “He died,” she said bluntly, without a word of greeting.
Mack looked up, startled, and stared. “What?”
“He died. That’s why I didn’t tell him. He died before I had the chance,” Kalia said stiffly, and she turned away.
“I’m sorry,” Mack said quietly.
“You should be,” Kalia said. Without turning back, she marched to her kitchen and sat down at her computer. “There. Chapter’s over. Start a new book,” she told herself, and she laid her head on the desk and cried.
Mack watched her walk away, feeling crappy. He had been moody and angry for the better part of a week. Man, it had hit him harder than he’d expected. Writing a song, struggling with the music, and adding lyrics had helped. He felt the tension and ache shadowing him start to ease. Until she came over and dealt the second blow.
The deal with Angie had happened over a year ago, and he’d thought he was over it. Apparently not. The night with Kalia set it off, and it pissed him off to realize why.
He’d fallen for her, damn it. He craved Kalia like he craved music, and he didn’t like it one bit. That kept the anger fueled for three more days until eventually it burned down to a simmer. Now he was resigned and tired, just bone-weary tired. And he felt like an ass.
So the guy who knocked her up was dead. Great. Kick ’em when they’re down. Now he had to apologize, and grovel, and hope she’d take him back. Well, she’d better. He couldn’t live without her. And the thought that she could live without him, be better off without him, scared him even more.
He rubbed his hand over his face and realized he needed a shave. And a shower. He thought about a plan. Clean up, number one. Then maybe ask her out for dinner or to a movie. No, she wouldn’t leave Mani. Could invite her over for dinner. She could bring Mani with her. Or bring take-out and a movie and stay in. Definitely needed to talk and explain. Apologize. Have make-up sex. He sighed. Maybe he should bring flowers or chocolates.
He was an ass. He’d probably need both.
Mack showered and shaved and pulled on jeans and a navy blue T-shirt. First, the apology, he thought. The thing about living next door was that he’d have to do it face to face, although he fleetingly wished he could send a quick text or email.
Mack picked some daisies from his garden on his way to Kalia’s house. He took a deep breath and knocked on the front door.
Kalia opened the door. She looked at him with narrowed eyes and moved to shut the door.
“Kalia, wait. I want to say I’m sorry.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I know I said some things that hurt you. I’m very sorry. I’d like a chance to explain.”
Kalia slumped her shoulders and sighed. “I don’t know, Mack.”
“Please,” he said quietly. “Listen, why don’t you come to my place for dinner tonight? You can bring Mani, and we can talk.”
“I’m sorry, Mack. I can’t tonight. I have plans.”
He blinked in surprise. “How about tomorrow night or Saturday? Would that work
?”
Kalia looked at him. “Yes. Saturday would be fine.”
Mack smiled for the first time in a week and felt the pressure ease in his chest. “Great. That’s great.”
“Why don’t I feed Mani at home and then come over after? Say around six?”
“That’d be perfect.” He smiled and handed Kalia the flowers. Kalia’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in and gently kissed her cheek.
“See you Saturday, Kalia.”
Chapter 22
Early the next morning, Kalia scooped Mani up and smiled, giving him a quick hug. Sunlight streamed into his bedroom. “Good morning, little one,” she crooned, and she set him down gently on the change table to change his diaper.
“You’ll need a bath later, but let’s go get some breakfast. Qu’est-ce que tu veux pour le petit déjeuner?” she asked him as she carried him down to the kitchen and lowered him into his high chair.
Kalia knew the one gift she could give to Mani effortlessly was the gift of languages. She’d read that baby’s brains were like sponges for languages. So she tried to add French and German to the English she used when she spoke to him. She had purchased some children’s books in both French and German and alternated them when she read to him. She’d found a television station with French children’s programs, and they listened to French and German children’s songs. He seemed to respond with equal understanding to whichever language she used, but sometimes she wondered if he would end up trying to speak a complicated mixture of all three. Like their own pig Latin – Frengman, she laughed to herself.
Maybe she should speak French on Tuesdays and German on Thursdays.
Maybe she should do a bit more research.
Kalia mixed together Mani’s cereal and fed him. Or, at least, spooned the cereal in his general direction. It seemed like an awful lot ended up all over his face, on the tray of his high chair, on his hands, and in his hair. But he babbled and gurgled and pumped up and down in his seat with a grin.
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