Page 61 of Hearts Don't Lie
They barely got inside Mac’s house before they were clawing at each other’s clothes.
Hardin pushed her against the wall as soon as she locked the door, their hot-as-fuck kiss from the dance floor still fresh in his head. “I want you so damned bad.”
Of all things, she’d worn a skirt tonight, making it difficult for him to concentrate on much besides getting under it.
She seemed helpless to stop her hips writhing against him. Her fingers raced down the buttons of his shirt. When it was hanging wide open, her hands moved over his sculpted pecs and abs. Hardin hissed when she did it again, lightly teasing his skin with her nails. He ached to relieve the pressure against the fly of his shorts.
As if she read his mind, Mac’s hands went to his belt and then to his fly. Biting her bottom lip in concentration, she unfastened both urgently.
He groaned as her slender hand slid inside and encircled him. “Easy, baby.”
He unzipped her skirt. She shimmied and it dropped to the planked floor. He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her lace panties and eased them down, nudging them over with his foot to join her skirt. Hardin’s heart was hammering, and he swallowed when he glimpsed how she was gloriously ready for him. He wanted to drop to his knees and savor her, but his need was so great he let his shorts slide to the floor, then his boxers, and kicked them to the growing pile of discarded clothing. His shirt came next, and then he hoisted her up, pulling off her tank and bra. Her nipples hardened as he teased them with his tongue and suckled.
“Lock your ankles around me and hold on,” he said, pulling her legs, then bracing himself on the wall next to her shoulder with one hand and holding her with his other arm as he pushed deep into her channel, intent on finishing the private dance they had begun on the deck of the Hazy Rebel. “Love me,” Hardin whispered before covering Mac’s mouth with his, tongue sweeping deep, sliding over hers. He groaned, then pulled back to look deep into her eyes. His soul connected with hers, led sweetly to what they both wanted, what they both needed, taking care of them both.
He swept the damp hair back from her temples. She was feral-looking and glistened as they lounged among the tangled sheets. Like him, her chest still rose heavily from their follow-up ardor in her bed.
Hardin was pretty sure his full heart was evident in the smile he gave her. His thumb pressed gently on her lower swollen lip. “I love you.”
Mac’s eyes grew shiny. She sat up cross-legged, the sheets bunched in her lap, and reached for him. Her hands cupped his neck and drew him close. “I love you.” Her kiss was so tender it brought tears to his eyes.
They beheld each other for a few minutes, grinning like goofs. His stomach growled and she burst out laughing.
“Hungry?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“I am. You’ve depleted my stores, woman.”
“And you depleted mine. Bacon and eggs and hash browns?”
“Sounds incredible. A veritable feast.”
“Uh-huh. I need to rinse off first.”
As much as Hardin had enjoyed showering with Mac the last time—okay, having sex with her—the tiny stall had been dangerously tight. “You first, then me. I’ll help you cook.”
She gave him a saucy look before disappearing into the bathroom. “Yes, you will.”
The smells emanating from the kitchen made him salivate. Hardin entered, shirtless but wearing his shorts. In contrast, Mac, her thick waves in a large clip, wore only a shirt—his shirt, which barely covered her shapely ass. His mouth watered, wanting more of her.
Mac let Hardin know she knew he was there when she bent over and answered his silent question of whether she wore anything underneath. Nope.
She turned and winked, kissing him when he was next to her, and handed him a knife. “Come be my sous chef, handsome.” Half of a red pepper and a small section of fresh broccoli covered the cutting board. “Small pieces please. Tell me about fly-fishing with our son.” She pulled a grater and a smaller, thinner board out of the drawer and started on a chunk of cheese. “Havarti okay with you?”
“Perfect.” He began cutting the veggies. “He’s incredible! The whole day was magical. Fly-fishing was peaceful. Cathartic.” He paused and glanced at her, smiling, his eyes glowing. “Stowe caught a fish. He was so excited yet so humble, Mac. I caught one, puny he said, but we got a picture of it.”
Hardin put down the knife and trotted out of the kitchen and returned with his phone. “See?” His voice was musical as he showed her the photo. “He started calling me Bro.”
Mac broke into a huge smile. The picture wasn’t just of Hardin and his first fish, but of him and Stowe with the puny catch. Both of them were beaming.
“Hardin,” she said softly, hugging him around the waist with her free arm.
Hardin glanced downward and blinked his eyes rapidly. His voice was scratchy. “Stowe asked if he could be in it. Our first picture together.”
“Will you send it to me?”
“I will. He asked for a copy.”
I’ll get prints and have it framed for each of them.She wrapped the unused block of cheese and returned it to the refrigerator, coming back with an assortment of berries. “These will go nicely with our midnight meal.” Mac emptied them into a small colander in the sink to rinse and drain.
