Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Olivia
T ry as I might, I couldn’t get past that day in the workshop. The next week, things remained stilted between Mac and me. The almost brushes in the hall, him usually shirtless, were becoming unbearable. I’d even thought about busting out the bullet vibrator I’d stashed in the front pocket of my suitcase, but I was scared he’d hear the buzz and figure out my secret. Until one morning I was over being sexually frustrated and snapped at him.
“Put a fricking shirt on, for Christ’s sake! There’s a young girl in this house.”
Unfortunately, I’d hurt myself in the process, because he did, in fact, begin wearing a shirt, and he also began avoiding me more. Stealing away in his bedroom, the one I had to pass on the way to my guest room. And somehow, the distance grew more charged; the more I avoided him, the more I noticed him.
I was definitely not touching myself while replaying that kiss in my mind. Or the way he lifted me so easily, placing me where he wanted me. And I absolutely was not thinking about how incredibly turned on I’d been—until he brought up me being tense. I’d been damn proud of myself for not stumbling as I basically ran away.
His words had hurt. I knew I was tense. Hell, after all that I’d been through, anyone would be.
The thing was, Mac calling attention to my stress was too close to how Tim used to make me feel. And I wasn’t going to try for a second chance to prove to him that I wasn’t frigid or tense. I’d gone that route with Tim, and it had blown up in my face.
“Mom?” Rosie slid in beside me while I was putting on makeup the Friday after that thing that didn’t happen in his workshop.
“What’s up?”
“Are things okay with you and Mac?”
I focused on my mascara. “Sure, honey,” I lied. I hated lying to my daughter, but I also didn’t want to get her hopes up on a “ship,” as she called it, between me and Mac. “Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s just felt kinda weird around here lately. It’s like y’all keep avoiding each other. If one of you comes into the room, the other leaves.”
“We’re fine, honey. I’m sure Mac is ready for us to get out of his hair, and I’m ready to get back to our place.”
“Why?” Her eyebrows shot to her forehead, her chin jerking back in shock. “You don’t like it here?”
“Of course I do.” Truth was, I loved Mac’s house. It was peaceful and quiet, and I found myself relaxing more and enjoying my time with Rosie while leaving the work behind. But… “It’s a great place, but we can’t stay here forever. We need to make a plan. ”
“Has that bad guy been caught?”
“Well, no.”
“But it’s safe for us to suddenly leave? I thought the whole reason we were here was because of him?”
She had me there. “No other threats have been made. The police think it’s safe to assume that he was just doing it for attention.” I didn’t know how I felt about that. I didn’t fully trust the PD investigation’s lead and was waiting on confirmation from Harrison before I put my daughter in harm’s way. I’d trust my guy over the police chief and mayor any day. It’d been months that the PD’s lead investigator had been searching for Watkins, and why he suddenly felt like things were fine left me unsettled.
Rosie leaned against the counter, shoulders slumped, looking positively dejected.
“Do you think Mac would let me come stay when we move back to the townhouse?”
My heart squeezed at her request. Losing a little piece of her was a knife to the heart. Still, I couldn’t blame her for wanting to be here, to be with Mac. And I wouldn’t deny her the opportunity, no matter how much it hurt me.
“I’m sure he would love that, honey.” It was the truth, because for every step away that Mac and I took, he and Rosie grew closer.
“Now, run and go get ready for school, or we’ll be late.” I shooed her away so I could have a moment to let the tears brim.
Then I shook it off and went to face my next challenge of the day.
“Chief Hawkins, this budget request is ridiculous.” Mr. Bloom was sounding more and more like Mayor Smith, and neither of them were supportive now that I was settling into my role. “The city manager’s office cannot present an increase this large.”
He shoved the document away, the spiral ring scraping against the conference table. He’d probably scratched the glossy surface of the ostentatious table.
I’d come to hate the conference room at city hall and the man sitting across from me. He and the mayor represented every man who had ever pushed me down and held me back. Every time I’d come here, they’d acted like I was beneath them.
“I respect your position, Sir. However, please note the chart on page two of the section titled Support.” I flipped the pages in my own report and began reading out statistics. “The proposed budget merely represents an increase from the current budget. However, if you look at the reference years, the proposed budget is in fact equivalent to that year. I am requesting for our budget to be restored to the former level. I noted during my research that the grounds and beautification division increase last year is the exact amount that was removed from the fire department. Certainly, the citizens will appreciate their fire service as much as having flowerpots lining the downtown sidewalks.”
Across from me, Bloom’s face grew red. I’d done my research. I knew that he was the reason for the transfer of the budget and that his wife’s florist supplied all the flowers and had won the contract for maintenance. That deal was worth quite a bit of money, especially for a florist who had been small time and operated mainly from their household until they were “lucky” enough to win the city contract.
“You’ll notice that most of the increase is all local match on grant funding that I’m seeking to secure. Which means more bang for our buck.” I had zero faith he would understand without a clear breakdown. But calling out the grounds contract had earned his attention, and he began flipping through the rest of my proposal. I didn’t want him to be the same “yes man” that I’d met in every administration I’d worked in.
“Sir, if I may be frank, I don’t want us to be adversaries.” I tapped the document in front of me. “I want an advocate, a supporter, an ally in making the fire department the best it could be for the citizens. I’ve spoken to Public Safety Foundation. I’ve made a few connections. And I’m willing to work hard to find the funding we need. But the simple fact of the matter is, if you restore our budget, we can work toward improving our ISO rating, which will mean lower insurance costs for the citizens, which means they are happy with the leaders they’ve elected to govern their community.” The reelection of said leaders, I left implied.
“Thank you for your proposal, Chief Hawkins. The budget team will review, and you’ll be allowed a chance at rebuttal if they determine any changes need to be made.”
He ushered me to the door, and I clipped down the hall, not knowing if he was on my side or not.
“Hey, Chief, here’re your messages.” Cathy handed me a stack of Post-it notes once I got back to headquarters. I flipped through them, heading into my office.
Between the notes and the blinking voicemail indicator, I had hours’ worth of calls to return and a late night ahead of me.
My head was throbbing and my eyes burned as I pressed play on the last message.
“Stop the investigation, you stupid cunt.”
The message was less than three seconds long .
A blip, where time seemed to stand still.
And when reality returned, the hair on the back of my neck stood and my heart thundered.
“Cathy!”
She barreled around the door.
“Get Harrison on the phone and let him know his arsonist left me a voicemail. Find out what buttons he pushed.”
I picked up the phone and dialed the back line I had for the chief of police. “Chief Dennis, I received a message from the subject of our arson investigation.”
By midafternoon, it was determined that the call had been placed from somewhere in Oregon. More than a day’s drive or a half day of air travel away. The PD determined that due to the distance, it was an empty threat. So when Rosie called and asked permission to stay the night at her friend Shae’s house so they could binge-watch their latest TV series after the football game, I agreed. Mainly because Shae’s father was a police officer. I didn’t mention the call to Rosie, but I did update Shae’s dad.
By the time I pulled up at Mac’s, exhaustion lay heavy in my bones. Nighttime had fallen, and a chorus of summer bugs serenaded my journey up the porch steps. Buster greeted me when I pushed through the door.
I dropped my things on the table and kicked off the blasted high heels right inside the front door. I normally tried to keep my things tidy and organized, especially since we were guests at Mac’s. But tonight, I just couldn’t find it in me to care.
Dim lamplight illuminated the den, spilling over and throwing the kitchen into shadows. I rounded the corner and lost the last of my capacity to function.
Mac lay on the couch, one arm behind his head, propping him up, and one leg stretched out, the other bent, resting against the back of the couch. He’d been reading a book.
The whole vision of him was so mouthwateringly sexy, I couldn’t help myself. I gave in to temptation and let my gaze linger on his bare feet, his faded jeans. The white unbuttoned shirt that fell open, exposing his bare chest.
The book that lay face down there.
The reading glasses he held in his hand, propped on his hip.
The tousled salt-and-pepper hair.
The smirk that played on his lips.
He shifted, causing a ripple effect on his abs. The sound in the back of my throat was involuntary. If a man, any man, but especially this man, wanted to turn a woman on, all he had to do was exactly what Mac was doing.
His pose was relaxed and casual, but the message in his gaze was pure seduction.
“Rough day?” His gravelly voice was deeper, more intimate. And despite how I normally tried to hold things together, in this moment, I wanted to sink between his legs on the couch and rest my head on his chest and just let him hold me.
As it was, all I could do was nod.
He swung his legs around in a slick move that brought him to sitting and held out a hand to me. “Come here.”
I stumbled over and stood stupidly, waiting on his next direction.
He scooted over, patting the couch. “Sit.”
I did, and he reached down, taking my ankle in his large, warm hand, spinning me so that I had no choice but to recline in the warm space he’d left .
His thumb pressed into the arch of my foot as he began to massage. A deep moan of satisfaction rose involuntarily.
In all the years I’d been married, Tim had never rubbed my feet for me, but it was probably the most caring thing a person could do for another. At this moment it was, anyway.
I closed my eyes in bliss as Mac rubbed one foot, then placed it gently in his lap and began on the other. When I was suitably relaxed, the massage inched up toward my ankles. Then my calves. I immediately tensed at his touch.
“Relax, Olivia. You don’t have to be in charge here.” Mac’s low voice washed over me and settled right between my legs. “You don’t have to think. You don’t have to do anything, except let me take care of you.”
I took his advice. When thoughts of the day tried to creep in, it was Mac’s hands that I focused on. His comfy couch supporting me, his presence calming me. The evening was warm, the house quiet.
Eventually, the day’s worries drained away, replaced by a new thought.
“Why the change of heart?” The question came out soft, so soft I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.
Mac continued his assault on the muscles in my legs. “Change of heart?”
I twitched as he hit a tight spot on my calf. Immediately, his hands were there, gentler but still firm. And so warm. As if his body heat were seeping into mine through his fingertips.
“Yeah, last weekend you called me tense and basically rejected me.” My tone was teasing, but only to hide the scary truth. His rejection had hurt.
“Liv, I didn’t reject you. Trust me. I want nothing more than to be right here with you, with my hands on you. Even if it’s to soothe tired legs after a long day. I’ve been avoiding you all week because I was afraid I couldn’t control myself.”
Oh.
Oh .
His hands made a long sweep from my knee to my ankle.
“Besides,” he continued, “you were the one who walked away.”
Something in those words struck a chord, and I realized that I’d hurt his feelings as well. My eyes shot up to his face to find his eyes glued to where his hands warmed my skin.
“Sometimes I’m too cold and closed off for my own good,” I admitted.
Another long sweep, this one deeper, slower, hitting all the little muscles of my calves. I groaned in pleasure.
“Who told you that?”
As focused as I was on what his hands were doing, I didn’t even stop to weigh my words. “Tim called me frigid. You struck a nerve when you called me tense.”
“So we’re both in the wrong,” he pointed out. I began to nod, but he continued, “What I can’t figure out, is what he meant by that.”
I blushed to the roots of my hair. “You know what he meant.”
“But I need to hear you tell me.”
I swallowed my pride and admitted, “Things weren’t that great between us in the bedroom. I always had trouble… getting ready, physically.”
“Tell me more about you having trouble ‘getting ready.’ You mean you couldn’t get wet?”
I was going to die of embarrassment. I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and covered my face. For being such a badass lady boss, I was a coward when it came to the personal stuff. “Pretty much.”
“Did you use lube?”
God, this was mortifying. “Not at first. We’d try… I’d try to be sensual and in the moment, but the harder I tried, the more embarrassed I’d get. Sometimes he’d get impatient and lick his fingers to have enough lubrication.”
“What about other times? What happened then?”
“I eventually got some lube and he’d use it. He always grumbled about the fact that we needed it.”
Mac rewarded my honesty by squeezing my feet. “Look at me, Livvie.”
I flipped the blanket off my face and found Mac’s heated eye on me. Watching him watch me was a total turn-on.
“That says more about him than it does about you. It means he wasn’t doing something right.”
“If you say so.” I closed my eyes, trying to avoid this turn of the conversation.
“I’m right, and I know I’m right. And I’ll tell you how I know.” His long fingers ran up to my knee and back down. “See, if he was paying attention to you, taking his time with you, he’d know what gets you there. When you’re in the zone, like you are now.” His fingers inched up over my knee to my thighs. I sucked in a breath and held it, because his hands on me felt so damn good, and I was afraid that any little movement would make him stop.
“Poor Olivia,” he teased. His sexy voice doing ridiculous things to my insides. “So touch deprived, even the thought of my fingers slipping higher, under that sexy, tight skirt, is driving you wild.”
He was so right. I barely kept from squirming under his touch, imagining how it might feel to have his hands on more of me. The man was a damn sorcerer, and he knew it.
“Just like now, you’re holding your breath, enjoying every minute of this and praying that I won’t stop. Look at you, breathing hard. Trying not to move. Afraid one tiny flinch will make me stop.”
A long, slow sweep down to my knee, and an equally slow sweep up, this time inching under my skirt, his hands splayed wide, grazing my sensitive inner thighs.
“Breathe, Liv.” His voice was ragged, as if this slow seduction was as torturous to him as it was to me. Still, I sucked in a ragged breath and blew it out slowly.
“That’s my girl. Just like that.”
On his next sweep down, I shifted my legs apart, inviting him to explore further. My foot grazed his crotch, drawing a hum of approval.
Eager to feel more, to be closer, I inched down the couch, my skirt riding up my thighs. The slide of the silk liner added to the dreamlike state Mac had me in.
“Look at you.” His words came on a breath, low and seductive. As if he were talking to himself. “You are still the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And with you here, so soft and ready. Makes me want to worship you.”
Emboldened by the desire in his voice, I pressed my foot to the solid length behind his zipper and gently rubbed, making sure I gave him the same pressure he was giving me. Mac made me feel sensual, adored… wanted. Taking his time to explore and, just as he said, to worship.
This time when his hands slipped up my legs, he didn’t stop. The heat of them slid all the way up my thighs to the crease of my hips. The tips of his fingers flirted with the seam of my panties, his thumbs inches away from my aching core. I rocked my hips, seeking his touch. Delicious desire unfurling low in my belly.
Marveling at how turned on I was, I let myself sink into the moment. Into being free and open and willing. I was a goddess under this man’s hands.
“You’ve always been so beautiful. I love seeing you like this. Hot and needy. Ready for my touch.” His fingertips traced the line of my panties where they met my leg.
“You want me to touch you here, baby?”
I rocked my hips again in answer. Unable to speak, unable to think beyond what he was doing to me.
And then he gave me just what I needed. Shifted so that his lips met my inner thigh as he pressed a finger over my core.
“I can feel how wet you are through the fabric.” His voice was lower, almost guttural. “It makes me want to taste you. Would you like that, baby? My lips on you, my tongue in you?”
“Oh God, yes,” I gasped.
He pulled away, and I voiced my dissent, opening my eyes to see him rise onto a knee. He pushed my skirt to my hips and pulled my panties off in a long, slow drag. Every scrape of the material sent a rocket of sensation through me. I spread my legs in invitation and begged, “Mac.”
His shoulders grazed my inner thighs as he lowered his body.
And then his mouth was on me, kissing the most intimate part of me like a starving man.
I cried out my pleasure, sinking my fingers into his hair. But I needed more. I rocked my hips toward his eager mouth. His tongue circled my clit, and then he gently sucked, and still, it wasn’t enough.
“Mac, I need… more. ”
And just like that, he slid a finger inside me, then another, pumping in, hitting that glorious spot that made my toes curl. It had been so long, and he felt so good, and that delicious weight in my belly spread through my body, curling my toes, making my fingers clench in his hair as he took and took and gave and gave.
My orgasm blasted over me, stealing the breath from my lungs and forcing my back to arch, my every response drawn out by this patient man who, even after all this time, knew my body better than I did.