Page 18 of Still the One

“That was quick.” I can’t help but smile.

“Alan and Charles called it a night after you left so I came up with them. It seemed easier to just come to your room.” She looks around. The room is exactly as it was when she was here this morning, all too briefly. It seems like a lifetime ago.

I grab two bottles of water from the minibar and give her one. “Would you like to sit?”

There’s a small couch by the window. We’d have to sit quite closely together.

“Hell, yes. My feet are killing me.”

“Why do you even wear shoes like that?” I ask.

“Who the hell knows?” Mac sinks into the couch and drinks greedily from the water. “What a party. I’m so happy for them. What a dream wedding.”

“Yeah.” I position myself in the corner of the couch, but it’s still so close to her our hips almost touch. “It was lovely.”

“Does that include spending time with me?” Mac turns to me. Because of the cut of her dress, she has to sit with her legs pressed together—there’s no hitching it up as she did earlier on the beach. Her knee touches mine.

“Very much so.” I take a quick sip to swallow that sting out of the back of my throat. Sitting here with Mac is by no means difficult, but it’s not easy either. It’s something else. It’s promising. Tentative. Progress, for sure.

“I—um,” Mac starts to say something, then thinks better of it, apparently. “I’m not entirely sure why I came here. To your room.”

“Maybe because…the night has been too beautiful to end. Maybe you want it to last just a little longer.”

“That’s definitely a part of it, but…” She sucks her lips between her teeth, like she’s trying to bite her words. She finds my gaze. I look into her bright blue eyes. “Oh, fuck it,” Mac says, and puts her hand on my knee. Her fingertips dig in. “I don’t know where you stand on this, but I would very much like to kiss you.”

My jaw drops. Did I just hear that right or are my ears playing tricks on me—as in making my wildest dreams come true?

“I am very open to kissing,” I say, mumbling the words, not sure Mac has understood them.

But she grasps my knee a little firmer. I angle my body so our lips have a direct path to each other. Although there’s still a lot of distance to bridge.

Mac starts to lean in, but then pulls back.

“I need to say something first.”

I nod. Say it quickly, I think, dreaming of her lips on mine. Hoping her touch will bring me some sort of absolution.

“I’m not drunk or under the influence. I’m doing this fully sober, but that doesn’t mean this kiss is more than just a kiss. That’s all it can be. Okay?” She’s rambling. She’s nervous. I get it.

“Okay.” But of course it’s not just a kiss. We also haven’t even kissed yet. Mac is already protecting herself against something she might feel later—I do feel guilty about that. I put my hand on hers, run my thumb over her skin. I slide closer. “It’s just a kiss,” I whisper, before bringing the back of my finger to her chin and tilting her toward me. I look into her eyes, close the last of the distance between us, and touch my lips to hers.

I can’t speak for Mac, but for me it’s infinitely more than just a kiss. It’s a moment of forgiveness. It’s Mac opening herself up to me to such an extent I can barely believe it. I pull back. I open my eyes and look at her.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Yeah.” Her voice is as serious as her face.

I move in again, cupping her jaw with my palm, increasing the contact between us. My lips touch hers again, brief and light at first, but then Mac opens up to me even more. Her lips part. The tip of my tongue slides in, meeting hers. It’s all so soft and gentle but inside me a tidal wave of emotions crashes through. Before tonight, this was never an option, not even in my wildest of wild dreams. I never dared to dream of kissing Mac again. All I wanted was for her to talk to me, for her to be able to look me in the eye and not just be reminded of the pain I caused her. This kiss is so much more than that. It’s also totally different from any other kiss I’ve ever been a part of—because Mac’s position is unique in my life.

Her hand is still on my knee, trapped beneath my own. She wriggles it free and brings it to the back of my head, pulling me closer. Her mouth opens wider. She’s letting in more of me, and I welcome more of her. Our lips come together again and again and our tongues dance and as this glorious kiss progresses, pure joy erupts in my belly. But it’s not just joy springing to life in my flesh. Mac’s touch always ignited a deep arousal in me. It did so thirty years ago, twenty years ago and, apparently, it still does so now.

My breath becomes ragged. My free hand travels to her thigh, squeezing, feeling her. But I have to keep myself in check. I mustn’t slide my hand up her dress. I want to so very badly, but it’s not my call to make. So, instead, I push her backward onto the couch, while keeping my lips firmly planted on hers, and I straddle her. Her hands crawl up my back. Her tongue is hot in my mouth. This might still be just a kiss but it’s a very different one than it was a mere minute ago.

I’m afraid to stop, to catch my breath, out of fear it will all be over as quickly as it began. That Mac will come to her senses, although she explicitly said she’s fully sober. But just because she’s not under the influence of booze or another substance doesn’t mean she’s not affected by the circumstances. I sure am. And I’m under the influence of her. The full human package that makes up Gabrielle Mackenzie. How incredible she looked when she walked into the party. How sexy she was when she danced. How direct she was in her questions. How unexpectedly flirty she was when we were wiping the sand off our clothes. How she held me when we slow-danced. How she said she didn’t want to let go either.

But, fuck, I want this—her—so badly. I allow my lips to leave hers and kiss her lightly just next to the corner of her mouth. Then lower and lower. I trail a chain of kisses down her neck. In response, she throws her head back. She moans. Her fingertips dig into the flesh of my back.

I’m torn, but I have to ask. Verbal consent is absolutely required. We might have done this hundreds of times before, but that was twenty years ago.

---