8. Gigi
8
GIGI
W hen I’ve pulled myself away from Mack — embarrassed as hell that I’ve cried on his shoulder — he announces he’s going to order a pizza for us. Since he’s spent the entire day out in his truck, I don’t have the heart to tell him no. While he’s ordering, I go into the bathroom and take the hottest shower I can stand to take.
Standing under the steaming water, I can’t get the attack and the broken window out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. As much as I have hated my brother’s heavy-handedness dealing with this whole thing, I’m grateful that Mack is here with me right now.
For my whole life, I have hated feeling like I was ever depending on anyone for anything. I’ve always felt like the charity case — the kid with no mom and a drunk for a dad that everyone was always whispering about and feeling sorry for. I’ve tried as hard as I can to be self-sufficient as an adult. Most of the time, it feels like I’ve succeeded. But this whole episode has thrown me for an emotional loop.
If Mack wasn’t here right now, I’d probably be too scared to sleep in my own home. I hate more than anything that he’s the one I’m leaning on right now. But I can’t deny that I’m grateful for his presence. Say what you will about the Royal Bastards MC, but they have each other’s backs.
By the time I’m out of the shower, the pizza has arrived. It’s pepperoni and mushroom, which Mack knows has been my favorite ever since I was a kid. We eat it straight from the box at my kitchen table, mostly in silence. Tedward jumps up on the table, begging, and Mack offers him a piece of pepperoni, which he disdainfully refuses.
Mack’s ginormous appetite means that when we’re finished eating, there’s no leftover pizza. The box goes straight into the trash. Mack stands up and goes to wash his hands in the sink, and I realize he’s probably about to take his leave and go back out to his truck. The thought of being alone fills me with dread. I take a deep breath, feeling weak and needy. “Hey, do you, uh, want to watch a movie or something?”
Mack turns around, looking surprised. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
I’m not in the mood for anything deep, so we settle on an action movie neither of us has seen, with an actor we both like. Mack offers to make popcorn. I’m stuffed after all that pizza, but he’s roughly twice my size, so maybe he’s still hungry. He makes it the old-fashioned way, in a pot with oil, and pours melted butter over the top. He comes back into the living room with two large bowls, just like his mom used to make us when we were kids. He hands me mine, our fingers brushing slightly as I take it from him. I jump a little at the unexpected contact.
“This reminds me of being at Choppa and Reenie’s house,” I say, settling the bowl on my lap and scooping a handful into my mouth. It’s deliciously decadent, like going to a movie theater.
Mack gives me a lazy smirk as he sits down on the other end of the couch. “Yeah. Less shag carpeting and wood paneling, but other than that.”
“Oh, god, I remember that. Does it still look like that inside?”
Mack snickers. “Nah. Mom remodeled about ten years ago. Now it’s hardwood floors and gray everything, with those signs that have words on them all over the place. Choppa only agreed to it all because she let him upgrade to an eighty-five-inch flatscreen TV in the living room.”
“Wow,” I marvel. “Imagine watching movies on that thing.” I squint at my aging thirty-two-inch screen TV, a hand-me-down from Connor from years ago.
Mack gestures at my TV. “This is fine. Chop got it for watching football, mostly. Mom says it’s too big to watch actual TV on. She hates it.”
We watch the movie in mostly companionable silence. Tedward joins us, sitting in the middle of the couch. I’m grateful for the sense of normalcy it gives me to just be sitting here vegging out in front of the television. I eat so much popcorn that I end up uncomfortably full and sleepy by the time the movie is over.
“You’re dead on your feet,” Mack observes, after my head snaps up from drooping one too many times. “You should go to bed.”
Instantly I’m irritated by him telling me what to do. A snarky comeback rises to my lips. But instead of letting it fly, I bite it back. No matter how I normally feel about Mack, I’m grateful for his presence here tonight. “I guess you’re right,” I mumble, a loud yawn cutting off my last word. Mack chuckles, then takes my popcorn bowl from me, nesting it into his. “Look,” he says, brows knitting together. “I think I should stay in here tonight instead of out in my truck. I can’t watch your backyard from out front. And if whoever threw that rock comes back, I wanna be right here.”
I try to keep the relief off of my face. Because I want him to stay. I don’t want to be alone in the house tonight. I pretend to consider his words. “Okay,” I finally say. “I guess that makes sense.
I go into my bedroom and grab his quilt and pillow, bringing it back out to him in the living room just in time to see Mack pulling his T-shirt off over his head. The sight of his bare chest stops me in my tracks. Tattoos accentuate his muscled pecs and arms. The treasure trail of his dark hair invites my gaze downwards, disappearing behind the top button of his jeans. My eyes slide further, landing on the bulge in his crotch. My lips part involuntarily.
Then, suddenly, I remember where I am.
My eyes fly upward to Mack’s face. He’s staring at me with an expression I can’t read.
“Here’s your bedding,” I babble. “You know your way around by now, so…” All of the easy comfort of our earlier conversation has disappeared, and I have somehow suddenly reverted to my awkward teenage years. “I’ll, uh, let you get to it. I mean… uh, goodnight.”
Turning, I scurry down the hall and into my bedroom before I can say anything else stupid. Jesus Christ, you would think I had never seen a man’s bare chest before. My face flames hot, humiliation radiating from every pore.
Usually, I’d go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and floss, but I can’t go out there right now and face seeing Mack again after what just happened. I do kind of have to pee, though. Crap. Maybe I can manage to hold it until morning.
I change into a loose tank and sleep shorts and scramble under the covers, flipping off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, I listen to the sounds of Mack moving around, getting ready to spend another night on my couch. A few minutes later, the silence in the living room tells me he has settled in.
And suddenly, I’m wide awake.
The image of his bare chest is locked in the forefront of my brain. I picture his strong, square hands as they handed me the bowl of popcorn. I close my eyes and imagine the heat of his skin against mine.
It has been a hot minute since I have had sex with anyone. Like, a lot longer than I care to think about. I have a healthy enough sex drive, I guess, but when I’m not getting any, I usually am not all that bothered by it. That’s what vibrators are for, after all. But being in close physical proximity with Mack Maxwell has made me uncharacteristically horny. I wish I could pretend it was for some other reason, but I can’t. There’s just something about him — King Asshole notwithstanding — that my body responds to. I think he was the first boy I ever had a crush on. I know he’s the first boy I ever imagined kissing. He was hot as a teenager, but now he’s practically volcanic.
And tonight, he’s just on the other side of my bedroom door.
A couple of nights ago, I woke up at three a.m. to a dream that had me almost as embarrassed as I was turned on. I was at a lake somewhere in the middle of nowhere, by myself. It was hot and sticky outside, so I went down to the beach and stripped out of my clothes to walk into the water. I dunked myself under, and when I came up, Mack was there in the water with me, as naked as I was. He took my hand, and we both swam like that to a wooden platform that was anchored in the middle of the lake. When we got to it, day had somehow turned into a moonlit night.
We made love on the platform in the moonlight. It was the most erotic dream I’ve ever had. And I’ve been trying to get it out of my mind ever since.
Tonight, after an evening of not-quite-hating him, the memory of that dream won’t leave my head. And as I lie in bed, it slowly morphs into a fantasy of me getting up and going out in to the living room to him. Of going to him, and pulling off my clothes to stand in front of him, naked in the moonlight.
And him, reaching for me… his lips on mine, hands on my body, touching me everywhere I need him to…
Gah! My body, so close to sleep just half an hour ago, is suddenly thrumming with pent-up desire for a man I keep telling myself I despise. No matter how much I try to push the thoughts away, and how much I want to feel his body on top of mine.
The Hitachi Magic Wand is back on the Body Bus, and it would be too loud to use anyway. Mack might hear it. Slipping one hand silently inside my sleep shorts and another under my tank top, I stroke myself until I arch my back and silently ride my orgasm, imagining it’s Mack touching me instead.