by Aria Ford
“Em!” a voice called out, happy and enthused. I looked round to see a woman with brassy ringlets running to embrace my Macy. Smaller than Macy, despite a pair of high-heeled pumps, the small, pointy-faced woman grinned up at Macy and then, belatedly, looked at me.
“Oh! You’re Macy’s extra guest. Welcome!” she said enthusiastically. I grinned. She clearly hadn’t remembered my name, but her enthusiasm made up for that oversight.
“Hi,” I said, holding out a hand. “I’m Maddox. Thanks for saying I could come.”
“Of course I did!” she said, beaming at her friend.
“Thanks,” I said again. I meant it.
It felt weird, being received so openly in a classy place like this, where the other guys all stood around in designer suits with Hollywood-appropriate haircuts. I shifted where I stood, looking around. We were one of about twelve couples in the room, the others all either seated at the tables, chatting in low voices, or looking out over the city. I could smell ultraexpensive cologne and the subtle hint of something savory and nice.
As the two women chatted, I tried to keep calm. I used the techniques I taught my clients for managing their own stress levels. Breathe. In through the nose. Out. In. Out. Count your breathing. One. Two.
“Maddox?”
I blinked. Macy was looking at me, a brow raised.
“Sorry?” I said, embarrassed.
“Shall we find a seat?”
“Sure,” I said desperately. I was quite determined not to do anything to embarrass her. Or myself. Or anyone else. Not this time.
We went to a table. It seemed like Harper—the small enthusiastic lady—had organized a dinner and dance for her friends here. Macy explained that it was semitraditional for her to do this once a year.
“I think she wanted to invite me to cheer me up,” she commented.
“Cheer you up?” I asked.
She blushed. “Not that I was sad or anything…” she didn’t finish the sentence and I coughed, not wanting to probe. If she wanted me to know her secrets she’d tell me. I wasn’t going to risk making her mad at me.
All the same, I wish I knew what that was all about.
“Harper said she’s organized a three-course dinner,” Macy commented as I poured her some of the drink that stood on the table between us. It was bubbly and pink. I poured myself some and lifted my glass. She clicked hers with mine.
I smiled at her. Our eyes met and held. Again, the whole room seemed to go still. My heart thudded loudly in my ears. Under the table, I was aware of her leg. I moved mine to rest against hers.
The evening passed in a happy blur. I chatted to Macy, telling her about my new job and, to my surprise, she seemed really interested. She told me about her work with the company. We talked about the football and the weather, the news and some mutual friends, like Grady, for instance. Not that I’d heard from him since school, really.
If I held back a bit on my recent past, she also did. We were clearly, neither of us, ready to address anything that personal. Not yet.
“Oh, look,” she commented as a man came to our place, a tray balanced on one hand. “Here’s our first course.”
I raised a brow at the delicacies on the plate between us. Macy smiled.
“Seafood cocktail,” she explained. “I suspect Harper has planned a special menu.”
I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as she spooned a little of the mix into her mouth. Her full lips slid across the steel of the spoon and left the barest trace of breath. I winced as it slid between, my whole body shivering as if it was a part of me those soft lips touched.
“So,” she said, raising a brow at me as she swallowed. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
I tasted some, aware of her eyes watching me. I chewed and swallowed. It was good. Smooth and delicately flavored with some kind of spices and fruit juice. I let the taste flow through me. Looked up to find her eyes on me.
“It’s good,” I murmured. “In fact, irresistible.”
She blushed. She knew as well as I did that I didn’t mean what I was eating. She looked into my eyes and gave me a naughty smile.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
We finished our food in silence. When the dishes were cleared away, I cleared my throat.
“Macy,” I said. I needed to ask what she’d meant earlier.
“What?”
I sighed. “I was wondering if…”
“Oh,” she looked up as our second course appeared. This was another fish dish, this time grilled and served with lemon. I thanked the waiter and watched Macy approach it.
“Mm,” she commented, cutting into it with enthusiasm. She had never been shy of enjoying her meals, something I had always loved about her. I watched, aware that my eyes were fixed on her plump, wet lips, as she spooned a bit into her mouth and chewed, closing her eyes slowly.
“Oh, it’s good,” she murmured. “You try some.”
I did so again, amazed by how good it tasted. I hadn’t had anything like this, not for a long, long time. My daily bread consisted of, well…daily bread. And heat-and-eat meals. And sometimes my own limited repertoire of cooking skills. Provided enough time had lapsed for me to forget how bad they all tasted.
“It is good,” I commented, swallowing with some pleasure. She smiled.
“I’m so glad you could be here,” she said in a small voice.
“Me too,” I said honestly.
Under the table, I felt the warmth of her leg move closer. I shifted and, very gently, let our ankles touch. To my surprise and pleasure, she didn’t move away. In fact, her calf aligned with mine, our legs pressed close together.
My heart was thudding now. My head pounded. I breathed shallowly.
“Macy,” I whispered.
“What?” she smiled. Her smile was wicked and sent tingles of desire running down my spine. I cleared my throat.
“Nothing,” I said. I had plenty I wanted to say, but none of it was things I could say in here, with waiters and guests close by, ready to overhear what we were discussing. The things I wanted to say were strictly private. If I had the courage to say anything at all to her.
I leaned back, savoring the moment. I stared at her. The low, golden light played over her soft skin, making it glow. Her long, elegant neck was bare, touched by the gauzy collar of the dress. The rest of her skin, down to quite close to her cleavage, showed below the chiffon, the cloth strained slightly over the front of the dress where her high, rounded breasts pressed against it, pushing it out marginally. I wanted to touch that soft skin, to slowly take off her dress. To sample that sweet body.
“Maddox,” she said again. I blinked.
“Mm?”
She giggled. “Sorry. You looked so serious.”
“I did?” I asked, smiling shyly at her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t know what you were thinking of back then.”
I just smiled.
We sat quietly a while. Around us, the music had shifted from the livelier tones to slow, swaying dance music. I raised a brow.
“Dessert first,” she said, anticipating my question. “Then maybe.”
I smiled. Would she really dance with me? “You do remember?”
“What?”
“How bad a dancer I am?”
She chuckled. “Do you remember how bad I am?”
“No,” I said sincerely. “You’re not bad. Not at all.”
She blushed. Murmured something. I frowned.
“Oh, Maddox,” she said. Her voice was small and it sounded almost bitter, half-regretful. I sighed.
“Oh, look,” I said. “Here he comes again.”
She turned to look in the direction of my gaze. The waiter was coming with a third plate. She chuckled.
“Yes, Maddox. Our dessert is here at last.”
I chuckled. “Sorry if I’m embarrassing.”
She raised a brow. “You’re not.”
I swallowed, feeling like she’d pull
ed the floor out from beneath me. All my insecurities, all my concern. Had it all been my imagination?
I coughed and reached for my drink. The waiter put the tray down and frowned at me, then walked off. I looked at the plate, seeking distraction from my roiling thoughts.
“Oh.” Macy looked up at me. I looked at the plate.
The waiter had delivered strawberries and sauce. But only one bowl of it. And one fork.
I shrugged and she blushed.
“Only one way to tackle this,” she said, making her voice light. She reached out with her fingers to dip a strawberry. She popped it between those red lips, sucking gently. I closed my eyes, my breath ragged, loins about to burst.
“Let me,” I said.
I dipped a strawberry and held it out. Her pink lips closed round it, eager as a bird. She bit and I shuddered. It was so sensual I was fighting to control my urges.
“Now you,” she murmured. She dipped a strawberry and loaded it unfairly with chocolate, enough to leave a drizzle on the plate as she held it to my lips. She chuckled as I took it in one bite.
We both stared at each other as I swallowed. Our eyes met. Her eyes were a little wild, matching my erratic breathing.
We finished the berries in silence. Every bite and chew she took seemed to send fire coursing to my hard, throbbing loins. I could barely concentrate on anything. I felt as if it was me she was licking and swallowing, my body aflame for her.
“Well,” she said, her voice strangely full. “Shall we?”
I looked at her, eyes round. “You mean…”
“Yes,” she giggled. “Maddox Norman Jefferson, you haven’t danced with me for too long now.”
I smiled. She was a little unsteady as she stood and I stood with her, holding out a hand for her to steady herself. Our hands clasped together, and she looked into my eyes. I was lost.
“Shall we dance?”
She laughed lightly and let me lead her onto the dance floor.
We took up a place between the swaying, graceful couples. Everyone was clasped together, dancing slow and gentle with the sweet rise and fall of the music. I gasped as Macy took my hand and let it rest on her side. Her waist was so sweet, a soft curve that fit my hand perfectly. I looked into her eyes.
She smiled up at me and, to my astonishment, rested her hand on my shoulder, drawing me into an embrace as close as those of the others. My body went rigid. Holding her like this, smelling her, feeling the softness of her under my hands, was almost too much for me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. I was barely breathing.
We danced and then, as she looked up into my eyes, she smiled at me.
“Take me home, Maddox,” she whispered, voice gentle as a breeze in summer flowers. “Take me home.
CHAPTER SIX
Macy
I sat beside Maddox as we drove through the darkened streets. My head was whirling a little, but it wasn’t from the drink. I had drunk only one glass of Harper’s pink cocktail and my thoughts were clear.
I was sitting beside Maddox in his car—a Honda of some variant—and we were driving through the darkened streets at night. Toward my home.
I glanced sideways at him, my heart overflowing with so many feelings I could barely trace them all. Joy. Amazement. Excitement.
I swallowed, studying his profile. He was so handsome, with that brooding expression and those heavy-lidded brown eyes. Not to mention that fine, muscular body. I studied it covertly, feeling delightfully disgraceful as I imagined those rippling pecs without the shirt.
I am so, so lucky.
“Macy,” he whispered. His face was stiff, his lips a thin line. I frowned.
“Yes?”
He was slowing, entering the leafy street where I lived. I felt my heart thump with anticipation.
“You…you are sure, are you?”
I waited until he had stopped where he had fetched me. Then I turned in the seat to face him. Looked into his eyes. Let him see the way I was looking at him.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I am.”
He let out a sigh. Closed his eyes. Then, gently, so gently, he reached for my face. His hand cupped my cheek and he bent toward me, lips seeking mine. Blind and deaf and driven only by the longing inside him.
I closed my eyes as his mouth conquered mine. His tongue, stiff and imperious, slid between my lips. I moaned and let him taste me. I could taste the sweetness of our shared meal on his lips and I loved the way his tongue filled my mouth, seeking out every crevice of me.
He had always been like that, I reflected, amazed. It was one of the things I’d enjoyed most. He was never shy when it was us, alone. Other guys I knew regarded their body, and mine, with a sort of impassive indifference, as if the wild forces of nature were something vulgar and shocking. Maddox was a hot-blooded, untamed man.
He suited me.
He was moaning, now, and I responded, my own wild passion escaping my throat in a low moan of my own. He took his mouth away from mine and looked into my eyes.
“Let’s go,” he said softly.
I nodded. We went out of the car and I walked briskly into my building. He stayed to check things were locked and then, quickly and silent, followed me into the doors.
We rode the lift in silence. His body was pressed to mine and my arms held him tight, reveling in the way I had to strain to encompass that full, broad, muscular chest. My body pressed his and sighed, feeling his muscly warmth in my arms.
At the top floor, we slid out. I calmly withdrew my key and unlocked the door while he stood behind me, hands caressing my back. I breathed out raggedly.
“Let me go,” I whispered, trying to find the right key. “I’m too distracted.”
He gave a throaty laugh, and we fell in breathlessly into my apartment.
I walked through the sitting area with a sense of unreality, hanging up my coat and bag and slipping off my sandals. He followed me, and when I was done, drew me into his tight, muscled embrace.
“Macy,” he whispered. My body melted under his touch as he drew me into his arms, hands brushing down my back. I could feel an improbable lump in his trousers that told me he was fully aroused. I sighed, shivering as I recalled how hard he was.
“Come on.”
We found our way to my bedroom in the darkness. I drew the curtains but he put out a hand, stopping me.
“Just the darkness,” he whispered, “and you.”
I sighed, agreeing as he drew me into his arms again and kissed me sweetly. His tongue played along the line between my lips, teasing me by not yet entering, tickling the line of my lips.
I sighed and leaned against him. He pushed back. I could feel his hands stroking down my back, seeking out the fastenings of my evening gown. I sighed and pushed against his chest.
He gave a soft laugh and pushed against me and we both ended up falling to my bed. I lay on my back, breathless, looking up at the ceiling a moment. Then I felt him stroke my face, heading down my neck to the button at the top of my gown.
I rolled over a little and let him undo the top clasp, then draw the fastening down to my hips. His hand strayed inside, stroking the bare skin there. I tensed and let out a surprised gasp. He smiled. In the darkness, I could just see the whiteness of his teeth, the shine of his wide open eyes.
His hands stroked me through the back of the gown then moved forward as he gently, so gently, eased it down my arms and slid the sleeves away, one sleeve at a time. That was the other thing I loved about Maddox—he was so caring.
I felt him draw the bodice of the gown to my belly, leaving me in my bra and panties. He sat back, studying me.
“Oh,” he gasped. He let his eyes feast on me and I reveled in the touch of his stare, as intimate as a stolen kiss. He reached out and took a breast in his big hand, making me gasp.
I bit my lip as he squeezed me and then drew down the white lace cup of my bra, his eyes focused on me. He bent lower and drew my nipple into his lips.
I closed my eyes as the feeling of that
shot through me, blissful and sweet and quite wonderful. I was aware of a rising tremor in my body as he touched my breasts, gently undressing me while he did so. The clasp of my bra came undone without my being aware of it and I felt the coolness of the air in the bedroom touch my skin.
He sat back, looking down at me. The bra he put aside carefully, then removed my panties.
I lay there, naked before him, and felt his eyes devour me.
“Macy,” he whispered. He stroked my side, his big, warm hand stroking my waist and then lower, down my hip to my knee.
I rolled onto one side to look at him. I smiled.
“What?”
I didn’t speak. Just flicked the button at the top of his shirt. He nodded.
“Yes.”
As he undressed, more rapidly than I could ever undress him, I stared with amazement. It was like unwrapping a wondrous Christmas present.
His chest gleamed in the light from the windows, the shadows playing over those hard, firm pecs, glistening off his flat abdomen. His shoulders rippled with muscle and his every gesture seemed lithe and taut, woven with muscle.