8. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 8
GRACELYN
“I should go.”
Mack’s husky voice startles me out of my sleepy, blissful state.
“What? Why?” I trail my fingers in light circles over the ridges of his abs, each muscle defined, and try to hide my disappointment.
I mean, of course this was just fantastic sex between two consenting adults.
I was foolish to think this time might be different. That Mack might be different.
Still, I feel a little bit stupid, a little bit used and bruised.
“Work tomorrow. I need to get some shut eye.” He rubs my back up and down in a calm, soothing motion. Like he’s trying to take away the sting of his words.
It’s not working.
“You can get that here.” I point out the obvious. “This bed is great. Very comfy. I upgraded my mattress last year and sleep like a baby now.”
“Nah. Probably not a great idea.”
I lift my eyes to his, glancing up at him through lowered lashes. “I thought we established we’re both fans of bad ideas?”
He chuckles, a low, throaty laugh vibrating his chest beneath my cheek.
“You got me there, Firecracker.”
Still, he unwinds his body from mine and slides away, leaving the warm nest of the bed. Moving quickly, he gathers up his discarded clothes. Boxers, jeans, T-shirt. All I can do is stare is at his muscular bare ass in the air, shocked into silence. He throws on his pants and a familiar flash of panic shoots through me.
This always happens.
I’m a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type of girl. Not the spend-all-night-together girl I always longed to be. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually spent the night—the whole night—with a guy.
Zero.
Technically, I guess that’s no hands. No one ever stays the night with good time gal Gracelyn.
I don’t know why I thought Mack would be different. Naivete, I guess. Or perhaps misguided optimism. Either way, I feel like an idiot right now.
For ever believing Mack might not be like all the rest of the male population. That he might actually be different.
My cheeks burn and tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink rapidly, willing the liquid to dissipate and not spill over, giving me away.
“Hey—you good?” His deep voice jolts me out of my swirling obsessive thoughts and back to shitty reality.
I force a tight smile, swallowing hard over the lump of disappointment in my throat. The last thing I want—or need—is Mack to feel sorry for me.
“Yeah, sure. I’m great.” I attempt to infuse cheerfulness into my voice and it seems to work because he drops the subject.
Pulling his shirt on, Mack runs a hand through his messy hair then makes his way back to the bed. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, kissing me softly.
“Thanks for tonight. It was fun.”
Fun.
Super. I hold my eyeroll in check and chalk this evening up to another mistake. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson by now, but apparently not.
Mack’s mouth moves against mine and, despite my regret in how things are ending, I have to admit it’s still a fan-fucking-tastic kiss. Just the right amount of heat and pressure.
Eventually, he breaks away. Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, he stares down at me.
“Make sure you lock the door behind me.”
“Okay, Dad,” I tease, pursing my lips together.
He grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Hey, I’m not kidding.”
“Fine. But this is Thunder Creek and I’ve lived alone for years. I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll sleep better knowing you locked the door.”
“Geez, if it’s that big of a deal…” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, ready to follow behind him.
“It is, baby. I need to know you’re all tucked in, safe and sound.”
If he really cared, he’d stay the night. But I don’t mention that little tidbit.
“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender, palms in the air. Bending down, I scoop up my sweatshirt and toss it over my head, uncomfortable being naked in front of him right now. Way too vulnerable.
Together, we pad to the front door. I shift awkwardly from foot to foot, not really sure what to say.
See you around?
Thanks for the sex?
Luckily, Mack swoops in and saves me from saying anything embarrassing. Instead, he grips me by the hips and kisses me one last time.
“Night, Firecracker.”
Then he lets himself out and I sink my forehead against the cool wood, deflated.
“Lock the door, baby.” His muffled voice drifts through the door and I do as he asks, sliding the deadbolt into place. Only then do I hear the shuffling of his footsteps as he walks away.
A few seconds later, a chirp sounds from across the dark living room. I saunter over, picking up my cell.
Mack: Good girl
Despite my disappointment, those words ooze through my veins like warm, reassuring honey. Some warped primal pleasing instinct I wish I didn’t have, but clearly do.
I’m one twisted sister, that’s for sure. The man didn’t even stay the night with me and deep-down, I still care what he thinks of me.
So much for feminism.
Just to fuck with him, I tap out a teasing text back.
Gracelyn: Thanks, Daddy
Mack: You trying to get me to come back right now?
Mack: Because you’re turning me on again
I smile down at the screen. Good, I hope he has a raging hard-on the whole drive home and regrets leaving very, very much.
Gracelyn: Perfect
Gracelyn: Remember me when you’re alone tonight
Mack: Like I could forget you, baby girl
I squint at the words, trying to figure Mack out. If I’m that memorable, that desirable, why didn’t he stay? We could have chatted late into the night, learning about each other. Sharing funny stories, cuddling and kissing. Maybe fucking again.
Instead, he left, chipping away a tiny piece of my already-tender heart in the process.
Deciding to let it go for tonight, I tap out one last quick flirtatious text before plugging in my phone.
Gracelyn: Night, Daddy
Mack doesn’t let me down. Five seconds later, my phone dings.
Mack: Night, baby girl
Smiling, I skip to my bedroom and toss my phone on the nightstand, peeling my sweatshirt off and climbing back into bed naked. I burrow into the pillows, the spicy scent of Mack and sex clinging to the rumpled cotton sheets. A few seconds later, I’m fast asleep, dreaming of a particularly sexy carpenter.