Page 71 of Street of Dreams
Mac raised his index finger and leaned forward. “One time. Once. Out of the blue, in almost a fucking year, you show up without so much as a text message. That’shere? You think that gives you some kind of presence in my life? Because it fucking doesn’t. Not at all.”
“Let me come back to your hotel. We can at least have one night. Please, Mac. I still love you.”
The words were a cinderblock to the gut and sent tears to Mac’s eyes. “No. You don’t get to say that to me. Not after 10 months, two weeks, and four days.” Mac swallowed hard and shook his head while he let out a cynical laugh. “Your arrogance never falters. You think that you can show up and tell me you still love me and expect me to jump into bed with you? And then what? You disappear again? I think you’ve really lost your fucking mind this time.”
Jake threw his cigarette to the ground and growled. “I can’t fucking help the way things are!” he shouted, shaking his fists. “You know that!”
Mac couldn’t take any more of this conversation. It was pulverizing his heart. He’d worked too hard to get Jake out of his system. He wasn’t going to give in and get his heart broken all over again. He wouldn’t survive it this time. “Whatever. Sorry you came all this way for nothing. I’m outta here.” With that, Mac turned and kept walking toward the waiting car without looking back.
“The night’s not over, Mackenzie. I’m staying at the Best Western in Winnemucca. Room 208,” Jake called, his voice growing louder with each sentence. “I’ll be waiting for you. All fucking night. Go back to your fancy hotel. Take a shower with your expensive bath soap. Get dressed. Put that sexy-as-fuck kilt back on and meet me at my hotel. You can tell me all you want that you’re fucking done with me and that you’ve moved on, but I can see it in your eyes. You still fucking love me!”
Jake sat with his back against the headboard, smoking cigarette after cigarette, while re-runs of Friends played on the flat screen. He glanced at the time on the cable box for the fourth time, just as a knock sounded on the door. It’s about fucking time. One side of his mouth drew back in a smile while he slowly brought his feet to the floor. He snubbed out his Marlboro in the ashtray on the nightstand and leisurely walked across the room. Another impatient knock on the door made him slow his stride, even though he wanted to run. He counted to three before he turned the knob. “I knew you’d come.”
Mac didn’t reply. He only stood there glaring at Jake with fire behind his eyes.
Jake knew that look so well. It was burning lust, overwrought with passion, and he allowed himself to drink in the man in front of him. How he’d missed that mane of deep red hair and those incredibly soulful eyes. They were bottomless pools of emotion. And they were boring into Jake with madness that seemed incomprehensible. They conveyed equal parts of love and rage.
Jake had always thought a hair separated love and hate, anger and passion, and that both sides of the emotions were interchangeable at times. Mac proved that theory, because seeing how his eyes shifted from hostile to deep longing and back again was like flipping a switch on and off.
Jake watched as Mac’s nostrils flared and his deep breaths blew his long hair off his chest. His hair and his upper body had grown significantly. The tight T-shirt strained across Mac’s broadened chest and the short sleeves pinched the indent between his deltoids and biceps.
Jake’s eyes dropped lower, and his knees almost buckled. Mac had worn the kilt. It wasn’t the same one he wore earlier at the show, which meant Mac had showered and changed, and deliberately worn a kilt at Jake’s request. Warmth, that hadn’t been there in a long time, filled Jake’s chest, and a crooked smile spread across his lips. “You wore the kilt.”
Mac pushed past Jake and marched into the room, tugging at the roots of his hair. He suddenly stopped and swung around, wildly. “I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about you! I can’t believe the way you get in my head! I can’t believe you thought I was just going to fall into bed with you!” He took a deep, calming breath, swallowed his anger, and placed his hands on his hips. “I have a boyfriend.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, and jealousy burned in his gut hotter than hellfire. It took everything in his power not to explode, but he managed to extinguish the flames to a low ember, because he knew that passion lurked under all the anger that Mac displayed. Mac wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care. There wouldn’t be fire behind his eyes, and his jaw wouldn’t be clenched. Labored breaths wouldn’t be blowing in and out of his lungs, and there wouldn’t be such vehemence behind his words. But Jake never doubted Mac’s feelings for one fucking minute. Not one fucking second. The two of them were bound together by some kind of invisible rope that may stretch to the limits sometimes, but it would never break. Their lives couldn’t be more different, but their souls were cemented together.
Still clenching his jaw, Jake took a deep breath and slowly folded his arms across his chest. “That guy ain’t your boyfriend. I am.”
“Damn you, Jake King!” Mac’s eyes widened and turned bright green. The pupils were dilated, making him look like an angry cat. His nostrils flared as if about to breathe out fire. Then he lunged. He grabbed Jake’s face in his hands and slammed their mouths together with more power than Jake had ever seen this man exhibit.
Holding onto Mac’s wrists so he didn’t get knocked over by the sheer force of the kiss, Jake found himself turned around and stumbling backwards until he was flat on the bed with Mac on top of him, their lips still locked together. He reveled in the kiss and in the neediness of it. It showed exactly how much Mac still wanted him and still loved him. No matter how much the guy denied it, that kiss said everything, and Jake felt it down to his core.
He almost couldn’t believe that he was here, with Mac, after so long. His heart had ached and almost shattered, held together by only a thread, a sliver of hope, but now that Mac was in his arms, that single thread stitched his heart back together again.
Jake needed to open his eyes. He needed to see Mac. But all he saw was the light fixture on the ceiling peeking through the length of Mac’s hair like a giant red sun. He cleared his vision by pushing his fingers through Mac’s hair and pushing it back, but he still couldn’t see much more than the outline of Mac’s face. He tried to pull back, but Mac clung to him and wouldn’t allow any separation of their bodies. And that was fine with Jake.
He fell into the kiss and into another world. A world where he and Mac were free to be together. The time apart invaded Jake’s heart, and he suddenly couldn’t get enough of Mac. He pawed at Mac’s neck, ran his hands over the round arc of Mac’s shoulders and down his back, reacquainting himself with the curves of Mac’s body and introducing himself to new muscle that wasn’t there before.
When Jake’s hand hit the kilt, he stopped. It was his Achilles’ heel. His kryptonite. That thing did him in the moment he first saw Mac wearing it when they were kids. And he couldn’t wait to rip it off. Without breaking their kiss, he worked the buckles that fastened the sexy-as-fuck contraption to Mac’s waist. When they were all undone, he flipped Mac onto his back with a quick roll and knelt between Mac’s legs. They locked eyes for a hot second before Jake whipped open the kilt and tugged it out from under Mac, who looked stunned at the sudden striptease.
Jake stared down at Mac’s naked midsection. “I waited so fucking long to do that.”
Mac suddenly fisted Jake’s T-shirt and pulled him down for a rough kiss. They rolled on the bed, fighting for the dominant position. At some point, they both just gave up and shed their clothing.
There was no foreplay. Immediate gratification was all either cared about. Jake was prepared, with lube and condoms already on the nightstand. He retrieved them while Mac positioned himself in the middle of the bed, on his knees, and gripped the headboard.
Jake climbed onto the bed. As soon as he placed his hand on Mac’s lower back, Mac turned, and their eyes locked on one another. So much transpired in the long gaze they shared. Words weren’t necessary. Jake saw the longing and the pain behind Mac’s eyes, and it broke his heart. He lovingly touched Mac’s cheek. “You’re still my guy. And I’m still yours. No matter what.”
Mac’s shoulders dropped and wetness covered his eyes. He cupped Jake’s hand, which was still resting on his cheek, and sighed. “Make love to me.”
There was so much Jake wanted to say, but all he could do was nod. He placed a tender kiss on Mac’s lips before covering himself with the condom and went to work with the lube. The familiar sighs and moans that Mac emitted left Jake weak. It reminded him of the time they shared and the pain of not being together anymore. Soon, he’d fix everything. Right now, he needed to consume this man. He entered Mac slowly, gasping at the union of their bodies, each thrust pushing deeper, and claimed him.Mine. Mine. Mine. Forever.
Mac reached back and grabbed Jake’s hand. Their fingers intertwined and they didn’t let go until they were both spent.
Afterwards, they held one another tightly. It was heaven, and Jake felt as if he were suspended in a perpetual state of nirvana. He placed his hand on Mac’s cheek and kissed him deeply. “I love you so fucking much.”
Mac didn’t say it back.
