Page 72 of Never Fear (Whiskey Ridge)
The organ beating in my chest wasn’t enough at this point. Obsessed didn’t cover the feelings I had for her, and maybe that was unhealthy, but I’d never been much of a hypochondriac anyway.
On the way home, she’d refused to go to the hospitalsince the bleeding on her wound had stopped. She insisted she was fine despite the head trauma, so I was treating her as if she had a concussion. I’d had my fair share of those in my life and while I was stupid and hadn’t been seen for them, I trusted McKenna when she said she was feeling alright now.
Little did she know, though, I’d already booked her a doctor’s appointment for the morning, just to be safe.
“How’d you find me?” McKenna asked, words heavy with exhaustion.
“I tracked my phone using Booker’s. When I saw you were at an abandoned warehouse outside of town, I’d never ditched him so fast. I would’ve left earlier, but I had to make sure Brynne was safe.” When I’d remembered I’d left my phone in the jacket McKenna wore, I nearly lost my mind with the urge to track it immediately.
“Thank you for taking care of her,” she murmured. Her fingers traced a lazy circle on my thigh under the water.
“It was hard, having to choose.”
With my admission, she tilted her head back further, opening her eyes. “You made sure we were both okay. That’s what matters.”
“Any longer, and you would’ve?—”
“I know.” She lifted her hand from the water, bubbles sticking to her glistening skin as she set her palm on my cheek. “But you made it. I’m okay.”
I turned my head to press a kiss to her palm, fighting back the foreign emotion swelling in my throat.
“It was all for revenge, you know,” she said.
Pain stabbed me in the chest at the knowledge that we—I—was the reason she was in that position.
“You guys killed her boyfriend, and she wanted to getback at you all for it. She wanted Brynne, too, but the guy hadn’t grabbed her. Monica killed him for it.”
Words escaped me because the reality of the situation was hard to bear. That woman had a gun in McKenna’s mouth, and while I pretended for the sake of getting close enough to save her, it still killed me to know I’d egged it on.
McKenna’s thumb brushed along my cheek. “Come back to me.”
I released my pent-up breath, blinking back the moisture building on my eyes. “Do you regret getting involved with us? Regret knowing me?”
She shook her head. “No.” She spun around to prop up on her knees between my legs, cupping my face in her hands. “If I’d have never associated myself with you guys, I would’ve never known you the way I do now. All of that—the stalking, the abduction—was worth it for this.” Her fingers slid into my damp hair. “For you.”
I gave a small nod, but she must’ve sensed I was still holding back, because she added, “Don’t carry so much on your shoulders, Austin. We’re in this together now.”
I reached up to grab her hands, moving them to hold them between our chests. “It’s hard, McKenna, but I’m trying.”
“That’s all I ask,” she whispered before leaning forward to press her lips to mine.
As our tongues and teeth and mouths clashed, I drew her onto my lap to straddle me, worshipping the feel of her alive and breathing in my arms. And when that wasn’t enough, I eased myself into her, drawing her down until I was seated deep inside of her. While she rode me, watersloshing over the sides of the tub with every thrust, I fell deeper in love with McKenna.
And I think she fell deeper in love with me, too.
Once we were out of the bath and clothed, we went downstairs to find Booker making food in the kitchen. He’d demanded we sit in the living room and wait for him to be done, so we did just that. Partly because we were starving, but also because Booker gave us no room for argument.
Brynne sat curled into McKenna’s side on the couch before the fire, while I was on McKenna’s other side, tracing circles over her thigh. She’d changed into gray high-waisted sweats and a black t-shirt she’d taken from my drawer upstairs. Brynne’s dog, Nightmare, lay in front of the fireplace, belly facing the ceiling while he kicked his paws in his sleep.
Booker came into the living room not too long after, holding two plates piled with pasta and garlic bread, and I popped my bottom lip out in a pout. “None for me?”
“You get drugged or kidnapped tonight?” Booker questioned in his deep, gruff voice.
“Emotionally wounded,” I offered.
“Go find a pillow to cry on then.” He set the plates on Brynne and McKenna’s laps and plopped down next to his girlfriend, staring at the crackling fire.
McKenna’s plate was practically overflowing, and I had a feeling Booker did that with the assumption I’d eat whatever she didn’t. And likely, I would. But I’d let her consume as much as she wanted before that.
