15. Teala #2
“You miss him?” Carina asks. “You get excited to see him? You rearrange your life to fit him in it?” Even now, I’m jonesing to text him back. I miss him when we’re not together.
In favor of answering her questions, I tell her I’ll talk to him. She likes that answer better anyway. I can tell she doesn’t like being peppered with questions about love when she’s contemplating her own feelings in a new relationship. Does Smith love her? I wonder.
“How do you know if he loves you?” I ask quickly.
The bathroom door is open now. “He gave up an entire life for me.” Sadness replaces her former smile, and my stomach turns. What must it feel like to live with that guilt?
“He got the better end of the deal,” I reassure her.
Her smile in response doesn’t meet her eyes. After she leaves, I snap a photo of a perfume bottle and send it to Smith. Love and perfume , I think. He’ll never get that one.
I walk back out to my friend’s gray living room and announce my departure.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jasmine whoops.
Charlotte hugs me briefly and pushes me back toward the door.
“I have to get ready for my own date. It’s number two, though, so I won’t get to have as much fun as you,” Jasmine adds.
Stupid, stupid rules. I can’t fault them that much because I’m in a completely different place now that I followed along with their guidelines. I’d admit defeat before I admit they might hold some merit.
“You guys do realize I’ve banged a guy before, right?” I ask.
Carina smiles.
“Not one like him.” Charlotte cackles. “That man is intimidatingly beautiful.”
I shrug. “Not everyone can be as lucky as us,” I say, nodding at Carina.
She blushes. I close the door behind me and exit into the warm SoCal breeze. It will get colder by the minute at this point.
I text Macs a photo of my steering wheel, the German emblem barely visible in the low light.
It doesn’t take long to get to his house using the freeway.
Less than ten minutes later, I’m pulling into his driveway with shaking hands and a roiling stomach.
Did I eat acid-tinged lettuce for lunch?
Silently I give myself a pep talk as I pull my hair elastic out.
I flip down my mirror and fix my face using the few items I keep in my handbag.
Mascara needs another coat. Blush for color I surely won’t need in T-minus five minutes, ChapStick instead of gloss.
Gloss gets messy on dicks and lips. I’m comforted by the fact I’m going through the motions.
This is what I would do before any normal date.
Nothing is odd about my appearance or preparation. It’s comforting.
It’s everything inside me that is strange. He won’t see that part, though. “Breathe, Teala,” I whisper.
Locking my car using the fob, I sling my leather bag over my shoulder and head for his front door. Many of the tools and construction equipment that were here the first time I came over are now gone, and I’m able to see how truly beautiful his house is.
Macs is leaning against the doorframe when I round the corner. I startle.
“Hi.”
“Hi back,” Macs replies.
He’s shirtless, with a pair of lounge pants riding low on his chiseled, narrow hips. Even with a quick glance, I see the outline of his cock hanging against his leg. I don’t let my gaze stray anywhere too long, and when I meet his eyes, he’s still studying me through narrow, hungry eyes.
“That was fast. Did you speed?”
I take a few more steps until I’m standing in the light shining in front of his door. “I never break the law. ”
One brow rises in surprise. “I’d like to agree to disagree on that one.
I’m pretty sure that body is illegal in every continent.
” He runs his gaze up and down my height one more time, but it’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes this time.
There’s nothing subtle, and he doesn’t care if I know what he’s doing.
With his lip still tucked into his mouth, he motions for me to come in.
I’m still shaking my head at his bad pick-up line as I brush against him and into his house.
It’s clean. Immaculately so. There’s no sawdust scent or unfinished pieces of random projects in sight.
He must sense me judging the space because he clears his throat from behind me. I’m startled back into reality.
“You cleaned?”
“You noticed,” he says.
A white candle is burning softly in the corner of the room on a polished wooden table. There’s a shaggy rug beneath his coffee table now, and the kitchen is finished.
“Figured if we were making it special, we shouldn’t fuck in a construction site.” There’s laughter in his voice, but I hear the seriousness too.
This means a lot to him. More than he thinks tonight is worth. I’m not even sure the proper level of enthusiasm that should be shown. He stands next to me, and I take his large, hard hand in mine.
“It looks beautiful. You’re right. If it were a construction zone, I’d demand you get out the GoPro and film us for a pay-to-play porn site. Construction babe gets drilled. Think of the possibilities. The tools,” I say, raising one brow.
When I meet his gaze, I can tell I made the right call by using humor. His shoulders relax, and he kisses the top of my head. He calls me some sexual pet name, but I don’t respond in favor of surveying the rest of the space.
“I got most of it finished with Tahoe, but the cleaning was all me,” he explains, puffing out his chest. “Make yourself comfortable. Wine?”
I nod and smile in what I think is a reassuring gesture and take a seat on the couch.
Suddenly the bow-chicka-wow-wow phase has arrived, and I’m uncomfortable.
Because this is how all my normal dates start out.
There’s nothing different. The wine. The effort.
Everything. He just wants into my pants.
“Do you know me?” I blurt out frantically. “Truly know me?”
He picks his gaze up from a shining wineglass to meet my eyes. He’s unsurprised by my line of questioning, like maybe he anticipated my crazy, and he’s ready to defuse it.
“Know you in what regard? I’m trying to remedy the only way in which I’m not familiar with you right now.” Macs holds up the wineglass.
“Because I know you’re a SEAL, and now I know your real name and that you don’t do relationships. Sure, there are other things I know about you, but I don’t know what makes you you.”
Now he looks a little stunned. He swallows a sip of wine and brings me my glass. I drink it down in four large gulps and brush a drip off my chin with the sleeve of my sweater.
“What makes me me?” I ask.
He’s looking at me with wide eyes .
“I know. I’m a little nuts. Get over it.”
“That was a nice bottle of wine. What did you think of it?”
I look down at the empty glass and feel mortified.
“Want another glass?” he asks, dimples popping.
“Please.”
He sets his glass down and returns with another glass and hands it to me. His hand shakes a little as he extends the cup, and that ratchets my anxiety to another level. Why is he nervous?
I take a small sip and actually taste the Chardonnay this time. It’s perfect. The finish is fucking perfect. “Oh my god, this is so good. What is it?” I swirl it around in my glass a few times and take another sip. I moan.
He tells me the name, and finally I relax back against the sofa.
“Better?” he asks, sipping his own.
He tells me the blend and year and how he has a few other bottles.
He says he loves white wine but feels like he can’t drink it unless he’s with a woman.
I tell him white wine isn’t just for chicks, and he tells me it’s akin to a pina colada.
Another girly drink he loves to imbibe. I’m laughing in no time.
And he’s effectively flipped the mood in the room to something more bearable.
He clears his throat and meets my gaze. “You grew up in a family where your mom was everything and then some. Your dad was important until he broke your trust. It’s why you don’t trust yourself enough to trust. You’re trying to keep plants alive, which tells me you’d like to have a pet eventually. ” He pauses to gauge my reaction.
I smile, urging him to continue .
“You’re a nice person. It’s why I’m having a hard time with this.” The smile vanishes from his face.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t usually care enough to do any of this. You know that. And, well, I can’t explain it, but whatever is between us is,” he replies, looking at the ceiling and bringing a thick hand through his gorgeous hair.
“This is more,” I say.
Carina is so wise.
His gaze flicks back to mine. It dips to my chest and back up.
“Yes. I don’t know what that means. I don’t want to go on my apps.
I don’t want to date other women because all I can think about is you.
It started off as a challenge, and I want you to know that.
My intention was to fuck you and forget you, Teala.
I never wanted things to get this far. I still don’t even know how we got here,” he says, waving a muscled arm around the room.
“You are sitting there like some fucking illusion, and I’m sitting here wondering how you got there, and I know damn well how you got there.
” His voice is loud, angrier than I think it should be.
I understand everything he’s saying.
“I put you there because you deserve to be there.”
“I feel the same way.” Reaching out, I take his hand in mine. He closes his fist around my fingers, and I flinch.
His eyes are a little frantic as he looks at my hand. “You’re not a fucking illusion. And you mean more than I want you to.”
This is Macs doing emotions. I didn’t even have to ask him. Carina was right about everything. He’s just as fucking scared as I am.
“I’m scared too. I’ve never done this either.” Suddenly the only desire I have is to take my clothes off and give myself to him. The elephant in the room might disappear when we’re both in our element.
He can’t get to me quick enough. Macs takes my head in his hands and presses his lips against mine.
His grip is firm on my head, and he tilts my head back.
Peeling the sweater off my shoulders, he kisses every inch of exposed skin on each arm as he goes.
“I want you so bad. I can’t believe I finally get to call you mine,” he growls before placing a wet kiss on my collarbone.
When my sweater hits the floor, I stand and push him back into a seated position and straddle him. His eyes are wide in surprise and excitement.
“I’ve been yours,” I correct him.
His cock flexes against my core once and then again.
“I’ve been yours,” I say again just to see if I can get the same reaction twice.
The smile he responds with is the most earth-shattering, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I kiss him passionately. It’s madness and depravity. His lips slant against mine like they were made to mold against my mouth. His teeth pull my lip anytime I moan out in pleasure.
“Are we taking this into the bedroom?” I ask. My breaths are frantic, and I couldn’t control them if I tried. This is beyond cardio. This is my heart hammering out a furious pace in warning.
With both hands under my bottom, he picks me up and carries me down the hallway and into his dimly lit bedroom.
Our kiss stays fierce and tangled as he walks, and I don’t even wonder if he’ll drop me.
He’s multitasking like a boss, and I’m sure if I asked, he’d be able to carry out a few other tasks at the same time.
Grinning against his mouth, I tell him how hot he’s making me.
He pulls away when we’re at the foot of his bed. One glance and I’m certain his space looks exactly the same as it did before. There’s not a thing out of place. The big pieces of luggage are gone. There is another candle burning on a low dresser that draws my eye.
“I wanted it to smell nice,” he explains and inhales against my neck. “I didn’t realize you’d smell so delicious on your own.”
I need to ask Charlotte the name of that perfume. Mental note made.
“I would’ve fucked you even if it smelled like sawdust. That was kind of hot, too,” I say, then bite his lip and tease it with my tongue.
Macs’s eyes flutter closed. His eyelashes are thick and fan against the top of his cheeks. This man is so fucking exquisite I know I’ll never tire of looking at him. His hands squeeze my ass a little harder as he lowers my body down his stomach and then presses me against his erection.
He’s hard. He’s ready. Our kiss ends abruptly when he sets me on the edge of his bed and backs up a step or two.
He’s watching me, and I know exactly what he wants.
This is familiar territory. I strip out of my shirt and bra and stand to peel my pants and thong off.
I turn around and bend over the bed to give him a perfect view of what he finally gets to take for his own.
I look over my shoulder, and he’s staying put.
Maybe he wants me to dance. I sway a little bit, creating a song in my head.
“My entire bed smelled like you. Even after I washed everything twice,” he says, voice gruff.
“Did you like that?”
“No,” he replies.
I turn to face him then. “Oh?”
“I woke with a hard-on in the middle of the night thinking you were in bed with me. I had to jerk it out to get back to sleep. Everything about you makes me hungry for more. To answer honestly, yes, I did like it. More than I should.”
At his remark, I make a show of crawling on his bed, and with my knees spread, I sit down on the top of his comforter. When I rise up, it leaves a wet smudge.
He’s watching me with a side grin now.
“Oops. Looks like I got a little of me on your bed.” I put my hand over my mouth and widen my eyes.
Macs moves then. Straight for me.