And when we walked in.
I saw Slade in a different light.
Fame was easy for him.
People asked for autographs.
He gave them.
They wanted pictures?
He gave them.
They wanted to talk soccer?
He handed over his time.
Two hours later, we were finally ordering and he had to be back at the stadium in twenty minutes.
I didn’t realize it until I was back in my car, after a kiss goodbye.
His life was soccer. His life was full.
His life . . . didn’t allow room for two loves.
Because he didn’t let it.
Chapter Forty-Seven
SLADE
“Right there, Slade, yeah, just like that, and smile!” The photographer, who introduced himself as J, fired off a few more shots. The model next to me wore a bikini bottom and a men’s button-down shirt and was holding a motorcycle helmet. I was shirtless, in leather pants that were too tight, and I was sweating.
It wasn’t a good sweat.
More like a get-me-the-hell-out-of-here sweat.
Matt gave me a thumbs-up from behind the camera.
And Mack stood next to him, her expression indifferent.
She’d been acting oddly ever since talking to Jagger—and when I approached Jagger about it, the jackass actually looked guilty, like he’d said or done something.
But every time I thought about asking Mack, she’d snap out of it. And it’s not like our sex life slowed down.
If anything, it was crazier. I was hardly getting any sleep, and this morning I woke up with her mouth wrapped around me.
I told her it was one of the best mornings of my life.
And I meant it.
So why the face?
“Over here, Slade.” J snapped his fingers. “Alright, now lean down and kiss her neck.”
I hesitated.
Matt gave me a What the hell, just do it look.
And Mack looked down.
Fuck.
This was my job.
They were paying me to do this.
I started sweating even more, my legs dying a slow death in the leather pants and my dick reminding me that it needed blood flow or it was going to fall off in the next picture.
J sighed in irritation. “Slade, her neck, I need a slow kiss, then hesitate and look up.”
Screw it.
I kissed her neck and paused.
J snapped a few more photos and cursed. “You look bored. Can you at least pretend you find one of the world’s hottest supermodels attractive?”
Hell, I didn’t even know her name.
It wasn’t important.
She wasn’t Mack.
“That your girlfriend?” she asked, peering up at me under long lashes, with bright-blue eyes and lips that had to be cosmetically enlarged.
“Yes.” I offered a polite smile.
“So . . .” The model shrugged. “Pretend I’m her.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“Slade! Are we talking or are we working?” J yelled, then turned to Matt and started firing off words that made Matt’s face turn red.
“Sorry!” I called. “I’ll do better, I’m just . . . hot.”
“Yeah, you are,” the model murmured.
My heart cracked a bit in my chest. That had to be the reason it hurt to breathe, the reason I felt like I wanted to cut and run and turn down a ten-million-dollar Gucci campaign.
“Hey, the sooner you do a few good shots, the sooner you can take your girl out for drinks, alright?” The model winked. “Showtime.”
She wrapped her legs around my waist and leaned back against the motorcycle.
“Yes!” J snapped more pictures and got closer. “Slade, I want you to straddle the motorcycle and then lean over her, take her bottom lip between your teeth and tug. Be sure to keep your chin thrust so you don’t create a double chin.”
I prayed Mack wouldn’t be like my ex.
I prayed she’d understand that this was part of the job.
And if she didn’t understand?
If she hated it?
I’d tell Matt no more campaigns.
It wasn’t worth the stress pumping through my body as I leaned over and took the model’s plump bottom lip between my teeth and pulled.
I felt nothing.
Nothing except sweat running down the back of my thighs.
Nothing but irritation when she moved her mouth closer and then slid her tongue past my lips, taking advantage of the situation in a way that had me feeling manipulated and guilty all at once.
“Yes, yes!” J shouted. “Damn, that’s hot, the angle’s perfect, you guys are going to love these.” He took a few more snaps over what felt like a lifetime. “Keep kissing, part your lips, Slade, just a bit.”
I parted my lips at about the same time the model grabbed my ass and squeezed. At least she wasn’t moaning.
“Perfect!” J announced.
I jerked away from her and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Are we good?”
“I think—” He looked through the shots on his camera and then nodded to the team of people behind the set. They gave him an okay. “Fantastic, thanks, Slade, I think the intimacy is what really helped get the passion across.”
“Yeah.” I felt sick.
Sick to my stomach.
I made my way over to Mack.
Her smile was fake.
I hated it.
Her body language was stiff.
I wanted to run myself over with the set motorcycle.
“Mack,” I croaked.
Her smile didn’t make it to her eyes as she reached for my hand. I squeezed it tight and didn’t let her pull away.
“So, you must be the girlfriend?” Did that model ever quit? What the hell was her name again? Jana? Dana? Did it matter?
“Yup.” I wrapped an arm around Mack and pulled her close, sweaty chest and legs be damned. “This is my girlfriend.”
“Lucky girl.” The model winked, then turned toward me and shrugged. “It was great working with you—let me know if you ever want to go get drinks.”
I laughed.
She laughed.
Mack did not laugh.
“That’s not going to happen.” It came off ruder than I intended.
Matt’s eyes widened when I glanced over at him. One message was clear: abort, abort!
“Excuse me?” She put her hands on her hips. “Look, I was just trying to be nice—”
“Nice is saying good job and walking away. Nice would be inviting both of us out. You’re not trying to be nice.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “I have a girlfriend. I love her more than I’ll ever love whatever the hell you think you have that’s special. I wish I could say it was nice meeting you. I’m disappointed that you’re just as vain as every tabloid says you are.”
“And you’re a fucking dick!” she yelled.
“Hey!” Mack shoved me behind her. “He’s my dick, you bitch, walk it off.” Then she turned to me. “You ready?”
I burst out laughing. “I don’t think anyone’s ever claimed me as their dick . . . Mack . . . my heart—”
She smacked me in the chest while Matt stayed behind and tried to calm the angry model, who probably just needed a piece of bread.
I made a mental note to send her cookies with an apology that said This dick is owned, or something like that.
Hell, let Matt deal with it.
“I’m sorry,” I said once we were back in my dressing room. “I hated that. I hated every part of it. I won’t do ads anymore, Mack. I swear, I don’t—”
Her mouth collided with mine.
I stumbled backward against the rack of clothes, then righted myself with one of the hangers before nearly falling on my ass. She shoved me onto the couch and unbuttoned my pants.
“Um, Mack?”
“Shut up.” She tugged the pants down and then laughed out loud. �
��I’ve never seen so much sweat on another human being, and yet I still want to have sex with you . . .”
“Um, thank you?” I offered. “And the lights were hot, and I was panicking that she was going to cop a feel or just tug one of my nuts off and show it off like a prize to her friends.”
Mack laughed even harder. “Careful, she can still barge in here, steal one of your nuts, and make a nut shrine out of it.”
I shuddered. “Never say nut shrine again. I mean it. It makes me lose my erection and my pride all at once.”
Mack ran her hands down my stomach, then grabbed the leather pants and peeled them even farther past my knees and my ankles. “We don’t want that.”
“Me to lose my pride?” I rasped as she leaned over my body, her hair creating a curtain across half her face.
“Your pride could take a few hits—I was talking about this.” She lowered her head.
“Slade!” Matt knocked on the door.
“Open that door and I’m killing you!” I roared.
Mack’s breath was hot against my burning skin, my dick strained toward her mouth in a painful way that had me lifting my hips toward her.
“Seriously, Slade?” Matt hissed.
“Matt . . . I just need some privacy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I bet you do . . .”
Mack snorted out another laugh while I was in serious pain. “It’s not funny, I need you. I don’t know what good deed I did in this lifetime to deserve your mouth on my cock but—I’ll take it. I’ll take it every damn day.”
Her smile lit up the room as I gripped her by the shoulders, tugged her forward, and kissed her soundly, making sure she knew without a doubt that I was hers—she was mine.
Mack broke away. “Did you mean it?”
“That I was going to lose my erection? Yes. Every word.”
She rolled her eyes and then looked away from me. “You said you loved me.”
“Love,” I corrected. “Present tense. Not past.” I cupped her face between my hands and forced her to look at me. “I meant it. And I’m sorry that you had to see me with another woman. I’m sorry that my hands were on her even though they wanted to be on you. I’m sorry that I’m the guy that used to feed off the attention—which just proves how wrong my ex was for me, because I didn’t care when she was standing there watching, I didn’t care that women threw themselves at me. But with you? I would have walked away from this job and not looked back. I would burn every fucking bridge in this industry for you. I hope you know that.”
Tears filled her eyes. Mack gave a jerky nod then pressed another kiss to my lips. It was softer this time, it tasted right. It tasted perfect. I never wanted to stop exploring her. There was always new skin to taste, new angles to try, new ways to make her cry out with pleasure.
And the more she gave.
The more addicted I became.
The more I needed.
I shoved her leggings down at about the same time she positioned herself over me.
“Look at me.” I held her face again. “Only me.”
She slid down my length, her lips parting with each inch. Filling her was a new experience each time—along with a feeling of coming home.
Mack braced her hand against my shoulder as I tugged her leggings the rest of the way to the floor, sat up, and picked her up by the ass, making it so either leg straddled me on the couch. I took her deeper.
A look of vulnerability crossed her features as she wrapped her arms around my neck, seeking another kiss. One I was more than happy to give her.
I ached for her in a way that bordered on painful.
And she was the only cure for it.
I felt my body throb inside hers, felt every breath she took like it was my own, experienced each wave as she rolled her hips.
Her lips trembled when I kissed her again, an ethereal feeling soared through me when it was me she clung to, when it was me she trusted with everything.
When I had no right for it to be me.
I dug my hands into her backside as her body started to shake.
No words.
I didn’t want words between us.
Words you could misunderstand.
But this?
Our bodies joined together?
No misunderstanding. Just trust. Love. And completion. I withdrew from her then welcomed another open-mouth kiss as I drove home.
I felt her whisper my name across her tongue.
I smiled when she came apart all over me.
Body limp, she collapsed against my chest. “Now we’re both sweaty.”
I ducked my head against her perfumed neck, a mixture of sweat and the lavender body wash she kept at my house.
“Mack?”
“Slade?”
“Don’t ever give up on me.”
She probably didn’t realize how hard that was to say out loud.
Or how much I needed her to replace the one person in my world who had promised to always have my back.
“Promise,” she whispered. “As long as you never wear leather pants again.”
“I’m burning them later, thought we could celebrate with some wine—since you go back to your old job tomorrow.”
Her face fell.
“Hey.” I took her chin between my fingers. “None of that, you love your job, just think, we’ll both be at work, then we can come home and have food, wine, all the sex, never in that order since sex always comes first, but same idea.” I winked.
“Sounds good.” And yet again her smile felt forced.
“Are you okay?” I found myself being that guy, the one that was so stupid he couldn’t tell what was bothering the woman in his life.
“Slade!” Matt pounded on the door. “I gave you eight minutes. Time to open up.”
“Was it eight minutes, though?” I called back. “Could have sworn it was at least twelve . . . eight . . . eight, my ass.”
“Weird, I thought it was five?” Mack said with a straight face.
I smacked her on the ass. “Careful there . . .”
She grinned just as Matt hit the door again, with what sounded like both hands.
“Fine, fine, give me a few minutes.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
MACKENZIE
I wasn’t being fair to him.
He said he loved me.
Loves me.
And I still had doubts.
Not because of the photo shoot but because of what Jagger said. I wanted to ask him if he took Jagger’s girlfriend out from underneath him. I wanted to ask about the pregnancy.
But I felt trapped with knowledge I shouldn’t have, all because I wanted to clear things up with Jagger—my fault.
And bringing up something painful that could create a chasm in our new relationship—also my fault.
My time was up, though.
It was the first day I was expected back at my family’s winery, and while I was excited to be there at my old job doing what I loved . . .
It also meant I was going to see less of Slade.
What if things changed?
What if he suddenly realized that I wasn’t what he wanted?
Or worse, what if I started to turn into one of those jealous girlfriends and pushed him away like his ex had?
I was ready to rip that model’s hair from her skull, and the worst part? Every few minutes she’d look over at me with this knowing, manipulative little witch look that had me ready to slap her across the face.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
I was just thankful that Slade wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.
But what about next time?
What about the next photo shoot?
And the next?
What about when the season started up again in a few months?
Agh!
I was going to drive myself crazy.
I needed wine.
Good thing I was walking into a winery!
Slade: Kill it today.
I smiled down at my
phone.
Me: I get to drink wine all day—I’ll be just fine, but if I need you to pick me up later . . .
Slade: I would love to pick up my drunk girlfriend—only if that means she comes with a brand new bottle of that pinot noir.
Me: Did you just . . . are you talking dirty to me?
Slade: With its effervescent spice, and did I taste a hint of raspberry?
Me: I want you naked. On the bed. With two glasses of wine when I get home . . .
Slade: I’ll bring some chocolate for that palate of yours—and Mack?
I was grinning so hard.
Me: Yes?
Slade: I love that you called my house home.
I sucked in a breath. Little prickly tears stung the backs of my eyes as I texted back.
Me: Home is where you are.
Slade: Love you, Mack. Try to stay sober.
I hadn’t said it yet.
I hadn’t told him I loved him.
And he didn’t care.
He just kept telling me he loved me over and over again, and he never hesitated, he never waited for me to say it back.
It was like he couldn’t help but love me.
And the very idea of that terrified me.
Because it was the first time in my life that I felt like maybe I was enough—even though it happened to be with a guy who Jagger said not to trust, who’d already proven himself once to be the kind to just leave.
It wasn’t fair to hold his past over his head.
I dropped my phone back in my purse with purpose. No more. I wasn’t going to do that anymore. It wasn’t fair.
“Mackenzie!” Dad stood in the main lobby, his arms opened wide. The room had exposed beams above, with floor-to-ceiling windows on the north end. The patio boasted several outdoor fireplaces. It was both cozy and modern at the same time. And the tasting room? It had leather couches, snacks, and my favorite desk, where I sat and played chemist. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
He hugged me.
There it was. Home.
Funny how home used to mean my father’s arms—it used to mean this winery.
And now? Now it meant Slade.
“I missed this place,” I said honestly as Dad weaved us through a small crowd of people. I did a double take when I saw my face briefly on the flat-screen TV. But it was so fast that I told myself I was imagining things.
With a shrug, I followed him through the back to the tasting room, set my purse down, and got to work.
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