Chapter 37 Penny
37
PENNY
Stretching my arms over my head, I arched my back with a soft sigh, the stiffness in my muscles easing just a little. The bed was warm, the blankets cocooning me like I was a butterfly about to emerge from a long slumber.
I felt recharged, clear-headed, and light in a way I hadn’t felt in ages. I’d slept like the dead, blissfully unaware of anything beyond the heat of the man beside me.
After round one, Mac and I both passed out, tangled in each other’s arms, laughter still clinging to the air. But somewhere in the middle of the night, I’d woken to the delicious feel of Mac’s hard length pressed against my ass and just like that, round two had begun.
That second time… he’d wrecked me. Slow, deep, unrelenting.
Even now, my body hummed from the memory, muscles deliciously sore. I couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t get enough, like we were clawing our way back to what we’d lost. But even with the hunger, there was something more I craved.
Mac’s arms were wrapped around me, my back pressed snug against his chest. He wore nothing but his boxers, and I had on one of his old T-shirts. Sure, I still had a drawer here with some of my things, but I didn’t want them. I wanted to wear something that smelled like him, something that felt like him.
Soft lips grazed the curve of my neck, just behind my ear, in a kiss I knew by heart. I let out a content hum, leaning into the tenderness.
“I don’t think I have it in me to go again,” I murmured, eyes still closed. “Between the bull ride and then you…”
Mac groaned, nuzzling deeper into my neck, his need clear in the way his body pressed to mine.
“You put the bull first on that list?” he teased, flipping me onto my back, hovering over me now with that crooked grin I could never resist.
“Your point?” I smirked, a slow wink sent his way.
But just as the air filled with our laughter, something unexpected tugged in my chest. A flicker of unease. A memory. The way things fell apart that morning not so long ago.
I swallowed hard, forcing the feeling back down. This wasn’t that. This was now. Different. New.
His hand found my cheek, grounding me. My eyes fluttered open to find his warm brown gaze on mine, steady and soft. He knew. Somehow, he knew when I drifted too far.
I gave him a soft smile and cupped his face in both hands, lifting just enough to brush my lips against his.
“I hope you know,” he murmured against my mouth, “I’m not giving this up. Now that I’ve had you in my bed again, you’re never leaving.”
My heart flipped at the rawness in his voice. I looped my arms around his neck, my legs wrapping around his waist like they belonged there.
I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay right here, tangled up with him in the quiet afterglow like we were a picture frozen in time. But I couldn’t say that. The words were true, but they felt too big, too heavy to give voice to.
So instead, I did what I always did when the truth got tangled in my chest. I kissed him again.
Mac parted his lips, letting me in, our tongues sliding together in a rhythm that made my pulse race all over again. Without breaking the kiss, he stood with me clinging to him, every inch of my skin glued to his as he carried us from the bed to the small kitchenette.
He set me down gently on the counter, and I grinned against his mouth.
“I had a thought,” I said, breathless.
That made him pull back slightly, his hands braced on the counter, caging me in.
Mac quirked a brow, smirking. “And what’s that, Penelope?”
“Where’s Angus?”
Mac let out a laugh that shook his whole chest as he stepped back, arms crossing. “You’re sitting half-naked on my counter, and that’s what pulls your focus? My dog?”
I shrugged, legs swinging like I hadn’t just derailed a hot moment. “I miss him.”
“My guess? Our friends saw the writing on the wall last night and decided to intervene. I mean, did you see how fast Rhodes ducked behind the bar?” Mac chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.
He turned to the fridge, and my eyes followed every move—the way his boxers hung low on his hips, the tousled mess of his hair, even messier now from our night together.
I bit back a smile and looked away, tucking the gesture away for just me as Mac poured orange juice into two glasses.
“I know,” I said softly. “It’s like he was waiting for that moment.”
Mac nodded, handing me a glass and leaning against the counter beside me.
“Speaking of last night…” I took a sip of juice, pausing just long enough for effect. “I wouldn’t be totally against doing it again.”
Mac raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Which part? The sex, or me spanking you with my belt?”
“Both,” I replied with a wink.
He groaned, tipping his head back like he was already imagining round three. “Noted. Maybe next time, we find out what else we’re willing to try.”
He said it with confidence, but there was a flicker of something cautious in his expression—like he was testing the waters, trying to gauge how far I’d let him in. How much I still trusted him.
We’d already explored a lot together—bondage, spit, and my favorite, breath play. But none of it worked without trust. And once, Mac had been the only person I trusted enough to let take me that far.
It wasn’t just anyone I’d let choke me to the edge and bring me back—again and again.
Perhaps I was willing to go deeper again.
“We’ll see,” I said, letting the words hang between us.
Mac smiled and kissed the tip of my nose before turning back to the counter. “What can I make you for breakfast? Waffles? They’re the frozen kind, but still.”
“Waffles sound amazing,” I said. “Blueberry?”
He shot me a playful glare as he opened the freezer. “That’s the only kind I keep.”
As he got to work, I slipped down from the counter, juice in hand, and wandered toward his bookshelf. The library books he checked out a few weeks ago caught my eye.
Curious, I ran my fingers along the spines and smiled when I saw a familiar title.
I pulled it free and walked back toward the kitchen with the book in the air.
Curiosity gnawed at me. He didn’t seem like the romance type, really the book type in general.
“Why did you check these out?”
Mac glanced over his shoulder, did a double-take, and then turned fully to face me. There was no smirk. No teasing glint in his eyes.
“For you, Pen,” he said simply.
The book in my hand suddenly felt like it weighed ten pounds.
“I needed help, I needed to get into your head. And the best way to do that? Romance books,” he said, his voice low but steady.
For a second, I couldn’t quite process what was coming out of his mouth.
He’d gone to the library and checked out romance novels.
Because he didn’t know what to do.
Because he wanted to understand me.
“Have you…read them?” I asked, gently setting the book down on the dining room table.
“Yup,” he said with a nod. “Every single one.”
Then he took a step toward me and pointed at the book in question. “That one? I read twice.”
Fuck.
My heart did cartwheels in my chest, flipping and fluttering like it didn’t know which way was up—followed by a warm wave that prickled across my skin, like my body couldn’t decide whether to blush or break down.
The walls I’d so carefully rebuilt around my heart? Obliterated. Gone in a single, quiet confession.
This man—this complicated, maddening, big-hearted man—had rented out my favorite books. Not just read them, but studied them. Looking for clues, for answers, for ways to love me better.
No one had ever done that before.
No one had ever listened with such intent.
The groceries in my fridge.
The fresh roses.
My favorite books lined up neatly on his shelf.
And those damn blueberry waffles in his freezer.
Every single thing screamed, I see you.
And it was… too much.
Not in a bad way. But in the kind of way that made it hard to breathe through the swell of emotion gathering in my chest. I needed time. I needed space. I needed my best friends to help me make sense of this.
The pop of the toaster made both of us flinch. Mac turned toward the sound, pausing as he exhaled a shaky breath.
He didn’t say anything, just focused on the waffles.
It was the perfect move because if he’d come any closer, if he’d touched me or looked at me with those warm brown eyes, I might have crumbled.
Right here in this tiny kitchen, I felt it happening.
I was falling in love with Mac Ridley. Again.
And I wasn’t sure my heart was ready.