Page 12 of Let Me Love You

“Nervous,” he decides after a beat of hesitation. “But excited too. I didn’t have a chance to travel before Hazel was born. To be young and adventurous. I was tied down before I had time to grow up and experience life. Don’t get me wrong. I love Haze and Miley more than anything, but having a chance to travel and be carefree without missing my kids' lives?” He pauses, looking anxious and almost…lost. “It’s such a foreign concept, Kate. I don’t even know how to wrap my head around it.”

Feeling the nervous energy surrounding us, I stand up and walk around the edge of the counter. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his back. “I’m glad you’re getting a second chance to travel and be carefree.”

And I am. Getting married and becoming a father in high school has to mess with your head. Sometimes, I forget he didn’t grow up completely unscathed from the whole thing. He’s always so put together. So in control, yet laid back and easygoing at the same time. Like he’s ready to roll with the punches but has prepared a solution for any and every outcome. Sometimes, I’m jealous of how well he handles whatever life throws at him. Then I remember he had to be. And this opportunity? It’s his first chance to be selfish. To do something for himself. To have fun and put himself above everyone else. He deserves it more than anyone.

“It’ll be good,” he murmurs, still lost in his own thoughts. The knife lands on the cutting board with a quiet thump, and Mack turns in my arms, facing me. “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you like crazy.”

“Even when I’m feeling prickly?” I quip.

“Especially when you’re feeling prickly.” He leans closer, blowing a raspberry on my neck, and I squeal.

“Macklin!”

His grip around my waist tightens. “Love you, Kate.”

“Love you too.”

He picks me up and sets me on the counter next to the cutting board and salad, scooting up the hem of my jade-colored sundress until my thighs are on full display and the material is bunched around my waist.

His blue eyes heat as he steps between my thighs. “We’re gonna make it to fifty years, Kate.”

“Oh, we are?”

His fingers trail along my hip, toying with the lace of my thong. Rising higher, he pushes my hair off my shoulders. It hangs down my back as he drags his fingertips along my neck and jaw.

“Yeah. I’ll be an old man, and you’ll have to push me around in a wheelchair or some shit, but we’re gonna get there.”

“Can’t wait,” I reply softly. He leans closer and kisses me, his mouth hot and addictive. I spread my thighs a little more and curl my arms around the back of his neck. I love this man. So damn much. He slips his tongue into my mouth, teasing me. When a soft moan slips out of me, he smiles against my lips, slowing the kiss, and murmurs, “Now, I feast.”

My brow quirks as he pulls away and grins.

I gulp.

Holding my gaze, he slides onto his knees, his wavy brown hair already mussed from my wandering hands. But the look in his eyes? Hungry and wanting.

Blue. Blue. Blue.

“Macklin,” I warn.

“You gonna leave me hungry, Kate?”

“Dinner’s right here.” I motion to the southwest chicken salad on the counter next to me. I’m not sure why I’m playing devil’s advocate when I could most definitely use a solid orgasm. But there’s something about being wanted despite the other options available, and it spurs me on.

“Damn right, it is.” His fingers dig into my ass as he yanks me toward the edge of the counter, and I fall back, resting my elbows on the cool granite.

The man doesn’t waste any time dragging his nose along my damp panties and breathing me in. As if they’re nothing but a scrap of cloth, he tears them from my body.

My back arches as he french kisses my core, not wasting any time as his tongue drags along the seam and dips into me.

Shiiiit.

He sucks on my lips and spreads my thighs wider, leaving me sprawled out beneath him like I’m his own personal buffet and he hasn’t eaten in weeks. But I love this about him. His desperation. His neediness.

His fingers are almost punishing as he digs them into my inner thighs. I gasp, the rough calluses on his hands turning me on even more as they scrape along my sensitive skin.

He laps at me over and over, adding a finger and crooking it, hitting the perfect angle inside of me while spreading my folds with his opposite hand. My clit pulses as he flicks it with the tip of his very talented tongue, and I’m convinced I’ve died and gone to heaven. When he softly drags his teeth against the sensitive nub, I bite my bottom lip, nearly choking on my moan.

Yessss…

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