by Megan Bryce
Mac said, “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough at your house.”
“You haven’t. Plus, my grandmother thinks you need to be fed. I may have told her about your empty fridge.”
“You can tell her it’s full now.”
“Erm, well, I’ll tell her it’s not quite so empty anymore. But really you should come have Nonnie’s lasagna. It’ll make you wish you were Italian.”
He ate a bite of pizza, wondering if he wanted to go back to her house.
“Maybe if I wore sunglasses? Or stayed out of your room?”
“BYOT. Bring your own towel.”
He picked up the bottle and tipped it threateningly over her stack of samples.
“Careful. I’ve got leverage now.”
She thrust her glass under the bottle, refilling it.
“I’ll just take care of that, thank you very much.” She plunked his glass down next. “And you too. Otherwise I’ll drink the whole thing. Wine and pizza is good.”
She took another bite, Mac following her example, and he said when he was finished chewing, “We’re just going to find one color for here, though. It’s all I can handle.”
“Your bathroom’s small. A little bit of color won’t overwhelm it.”
“I’m not worried about it being overwhelmed.”
She patted his arm. “I know. Trust me. We won’t do anything you don’t love. I just want to be sure you’ve explored all the options.”
Mac gulped.
“We’re going to be here all night,” he said, and Gia stuffed a bite of salad in her mouth before mumbling, “Then let’s hurry up.”
Their plates were cleaned, the leftovers put away and the wine drunk before Gia dumped the bag of samples onto the living room carpet and started sorting.
Mac kneeled down next to her and made neat little piles of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, and purples.
He said, “How come I don’t see any brown in here? You said you got every color they had.”
“I lied. I didn’t get any brown.”
“I want brown.”
“You think you want brown. Which is why I didn’t get any. Once you decide you like color, then I’ll show you the brown so you know I was right.”
She pushed to her feet, holding up a square of light, bright—very bright—yellow on the wall.
“Like this color. This’ll make your condo feel very happy.”
Mac eyed the hours of color heaped on his floor and the empty wine bottle and said, “It’s not brown but it’s not bad. I like it.”
Gia took it down.
“No, you don’t.”
Mac shook his head.
“No. I don’t. But I thought I’d try it. See how easy it was just to like the first thing.”
“Moving on to the next one. Orchard Peach.”
Mac had already tried the easy way.
This time he just looked at Gia until she said, “Got it. Don’t like it. Let’s try teal…got your towel ready?”
He tried to smile at her. It was more a baring of teeth and she chuckled.
She moved to put the teal square on the wall and he said, “No.”
She sighed.
“Alright. Here’s Lavender Fields.”
“Really? You thought I’d like pale purple?”
“No. I liked it. I think you’re going to like this one because it’s the closest thing to brown I brought,” she said, flashing it at him quickly before heading to the wall. “It’s called Flush It Down.”
He reached out for the card, snorting. “No, it’s not. Let me see that.”
She held it in the air, away from him. She was acting like he wasn’t taller than her and couldn’t just pluck it from her fingers if he so desired, so he got to his feet.
He said, “Did that feel menacing?”
She laughed, whipping away from him, and Mac reached for her, snagging her shirt.
She squealed, trying to jump away, and he yanked on the shirt until she stumbled back screeching, “You’re going to rip it!”
He grabbed her outstretched wrist, turning it so he could read the name of the color sample and choked out, “Mustard Dreams? If this is what you’re flushing down, you’ve got problems.”
Gia howled with laughter, her face turning bright red and she fell against him, hanging on his shirt.
Mac studied the muddied yellowed brown as if his life depended on it and said, “I always dream in mustard.”
Gia let go of his shirt, sliding down his body to fall on the floor, her laughs turning to wheezes.
He bit his fist, trying not to lose it, but Gia said, “Grey Poupon actually means Grey Mustard Dreams,” and Mac’s whole body shook.
He stuttered, “Mustard. It’s what dreams are made of.”
Gia curled into a ball beside him, clutching her belly and sobbing, “No, stop. Stop. I can’t breathe.”
He wiped the tears from his eyes and took deep breaths, trying not to think about any shade of color other than white.
Pure white.
Clean white.
Dreamy white.
He choked, quickly grabbing another stack of samples to sort.
Anything to stop the laughter.
Gia lay where he left her, crumpled on the floor, sighing and breaking into fits of giggles. She took a big breath, watching him sort, and then pushed herself up.
She swiped under her eyes, smearing the tracks of mascara starting to run down her face, and came to sit cross-legged next to him.
“Okay, okay. Let’s try again.”
He handed her a stack and she put the first color onto its pile with as straight a face as she could.
He held up a card, this one a soft gray, and cleared his throat.
“I like this. It’s not brown but it’s a nice neutral.”
She started to chuckle, then squeezed her lips together and shook her head.
“It’s too cold.”
“Why did you bring it if you’re not going to let me pick it?”
“I like to give you the illusion of options.”
She picked up the next card and flapped it at him. “But this one… It’s more colorful, merry, blue. It won’t be overwhelming in your bathroom.”
“It’s too bright.”
“But it’s called Blueberry Dreams,” she said and fell onto her back, howling.
Mac clutched his stomach, pretty sure he was laughing because she was laughing.
And maybe it was the wine.
How much had they had?
Gia coughed a few times, sitting back up and shaking her head.
“Nope. ‘Kay, I think I’m done for now. Let’s take Blueberry Dreams here into your bathroom and see if it’s the one.”
“It’s not the one. I’ll bring Morning Storm,” he said, holding up the neutral gray she wasn’t going to let him choose and getting to his feet.
Gia ripped it out of his hand.
“Got any tape? We’ll put them both up and you’ll see. One will be cold and boring and one will be amazing.”
He went to grab the tape, then jogged to the bathroom when he heard Gia say, “You do have a view of the water! If I stand on the toilet…crane my neck…just a little more…”
He found her standing with one foot on the edge of the tub and the other on the toilet, and his heart thumped.
“That can’t be safe!”
He jumped to steady her, dropping the tape and holding his hands out to her hips. He groaned when she went up on her tiptoes but she only said, “Why do they put these little windows above the shower? It’s weird.”
“People like bathing in the sunlight?”
She thought about it.
“They like a little breeze?”
He said, “It’s the only way I’d get a view?”
“You should come up here and see it. The sunset is glorious!” She twisted to look at the room, holding up the samples. “No. Blue, or gray, is just not going to work in here. It needs a yellow or an orange. A peach or
pink would be fantastic but I don’t think I can talk you into it.”
And then her foot slipped and she squealed as she crashed down onto the back of the toilet. He caught her before she fell to the floor.
After a long, silent, breathy pause, she groaned.
“Owww.”
He had one arm behind her back, one arm holding up a leg. Her weight in his arms and her body flush with his, and he felt her loud groan in his bones.
That bit of him that kept trying to wake up around Gia roared to life.
Oh, now I know you’re talking to me.
Was she? Maybe she was?
Was he?
Maybe he was…
He said, “You okay?”
Gia blinked at him, so close, and nodded.
She said, “Do you wear cologne?”
“No.”
She sniffed his jaw, her arm going around his neck, and he murmured, “Shaving cream?”
“Maybe. It smells good.”
He didn’t say she smelled good too but he sure thought it.
Why did she always smell like she’d been too close to a flame? And why did he like it?
He breathed her in, his stubble scraping the side of her neck, and he felt her melt into him. Heard her breath exit her body, her chest sinking against his, the warmth hitting his ear.
She murmured, “Ohhh…”
And Mac thought, maybe it was just her.
She smelled slightly singed and he liked it because it was her.
Mac turned his head and kissed her.
Her lips soft and hot on his.
Her fingers digging into his neck.
She didn’t pause, just kissed him back. Pulled his shirt out of his pants and ran her hand up his back.
He arched against the contact, all points of skin tingling.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
Mac nibbled her chin, down her neck. He hefted her higher to get better access and she wrapped both legs around his waist, her weight pulling at him sharply.
Her back hit the wall as he tipped forward and she cried out.
“Wait. Wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait…”
Mac wasn’t sure how serious she was about waiting because her hands were still hot on his back, pulling him tight against her. He stopped with his hand inching down the back of her pants, her legs squeezing the blood down to below his waist.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait…”
“Gia!”
She froze, and a long minute later said, “What?”
He wasn’t thinking well but he was pretty sure she was the one who had something to say.
“Are you— Do you—” Want to stop? Not like it? “What? You keep saying wait.”
“Wait? That’s right, wait. Wait.”
She tipped her head back, exposing her throat, and he couldn’t help but put his nose there. Couldn’t help but breathe her in.
“Ohhh,” she said and Mac groaned.
SOMEONE HAD BETTER BE TALKING TO ME!
Her legs squeezed, her hips pushed against his hand, and Mac kissed her again. She kissed him right back, her tongue licking his, and he didn’t know what they were waiting for.
Except.
“I need a…” He reached for a drawer. “I need a condom.”
She kissed his ear and down his neck and licked his chest.
“Yes. Condom. Good.”
He pulled the drawer out, rifling through with one hand and trying to keep both him and Gia upright.
Where the hell were they?
Gia’s voice, hot in his ear, said, “You sure you have one?”
“I have one…”
He yanked the drawer out, wood cracking and contents flying. Gia laughed and bit his ear none too gently.
He jerked, and saw the box wedged in the back of the drawer.
Oh, thank god.
He pinned her against the wall, trying to rip open the box, noticing the expiration date stamped on the side.
He shouted, “They expire?!”
Gia grabbed for the box. “They do? How old are these things?”
“I don’t know!”
She held it up to the light.
“No, they’re fine! They expire next year.”
Relief made his legs weak and Mac started to slide them down the wall, trying to place her gently on the floor without falling on top of her.
“Wait,” Gia yelled.
NOOO!
Mac froze on all fours, hovering over her. “What?!”
“Not in the bathroom!”
He cursed a word, not bothering to pick her up again, just dragged her into the hallway.
“Now?!”
“Yes! Oh, YES!”
Megan BryceThe Tie’s The Limit
Sixteen
Gia stared at a white—really white—ceiling.
She lay on hard, white tile and told herself at least it wasn’t bathroom tile.
She said conversationally, “I really don’t know how you live here with no color. It’s very unnerving.”
Mac said beside her, “I’m hardly here. And I really don’t notice it.”
She wondered if he would notice her rolling away if she did it really quietly.
Maybe if she’d been wearing white she could have gotten away with it but she was naked, so she just cleared her throat and said, “That was very unprofessional.”
She felt him nod next to her, then he qualified it with, “Although I guess it does depend on what your profession is.”
Gia turned her head to glare at him.
“My profession is fashion consultant. To be clear.”
“Yes, I know. I didn’t mean that you were a—”
“You could probably stop right there.”
Mac closed his mouth.
His usually grim mouth that was soft and relaxed.
His hot mouth that so nicely kissed her neck while his stubble not-so-nicely scraped her skin, making goosebumps pop up everywhere.
She’d noticed his usually grim mouth softened while he was driving his hot rod like a controlled maniac. It was good to know it softened when he was doing other things too.
And probably she should have known earlier that she was a neck girl.
She wondered if maybe she was a hot rod girl, too.
He looked back at the ceiling and Gia decided that was a good idea. She’d look at the ceiling.
Better than looking at pale blue eyes and wondering what had just happened.
Or if it could happen again.
But the ceiling was so white and boring. It ached for color and she wasn’t going to be able to keep staring at it for very long without starting to babble—
Mac said, “You can tell me now.”
Gia licked her lips. “Tell you what?”
“Why you live with your parents.”
“Oh! That,” she said, wondering why that was the topic at hand now that they were naked. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”
He was quiet so long she started laughing.
“Do you make a cost-benefit analysis for everything?”
“Not everything,” he said with a pregnant pause she did not dare fill. “And I would like the short version with the option to continue to the long if I feel it’s needed.”
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling but said, “I went away to boarding school. And when I came home, for holidays and summer break, I was visiting. I was a guest. I was waited on hand and foot by my mother. And now I have to live with her and make her dinner twice a week.”
“Ah, yes. That’s something else I was wondering about. You went to boarding school?” He turned to his side, propping his head up. “You?”
She couldn’t decide if she should look at him or not but her heartbeat increased rapidly and she decided that the ceiling wasn’t naked.
So she’d look at the ceiling!
“I was going to be the president so I needed to go to the right school.” she said. And then thought she might need to clarify. “President of the Un
ited States.”
“Of course.”
“I was! Or that was my plan, anyway. But instead of being awesome and successful, I now live with my parents and try to dress men who don’t want me to dress them.”
“They must be happy that you’re living with them, since they made you.”
Gia nibbled her bottom lip. “It really hurt my mother when I left. I didn’t know… I mean, I knew. I just didn’t realize…”
He placed his hand gently on her arm and she ignored the embarrassment to look at him.
She said softly, “I didn’t realize how bad it hurt her for me to leave. Or maybe I just didn’t care. But I care now, now that it’s too late to change it.”
She swallowed. Because he was looking interested in what she was saying, concerned that she was upset about it.
She wanted to blame the bottle of wine they’d downed for her current predicament but she was afraid it was more than that.
It was this cold, analytical man being interested in her.
Cooking her dinner.
It was him trying to find a car for her.
Letting her drive his Camaro!
It was him inviting her to his condo…well, maybe she’d invited herself.
But he’d welcomed her, and she’d felt welcomed.
She’d felt comfortable, and they’d been having fun, and he’d been comfortable.
Comfortable Mac.
Comfortable Mac was kind of hot.
All her well-worn bits were warming up again and when Mac’s eyes flicked down to her hardening nipples, she said quickly, “Maybe we should talk about this.”
His eyes flicked back up.
“About your mom? I thought we were.”
“No. About this. About us. About naked.”
Mac lay back down and stared at the ceiling again.
He said, “Right. We should talk about it.”
“It just felt like it went from zero to sixty there,” she said and Mac met her eyes, starting to smile.
He said, “In 7.9 seconds?”
Gia sucked in a breath and jackknifed up into a sitting position.
Nope, she changed her mind. She didn’t want to talk about it.
She didn’t want to talk about it when he was smiling.
Gia looked around for her clothes, grabbing for them and trying to cover herself as she headed into the bathroom.