Page 94 of Here & There

Lana squeezes my hand once more, then slips from the booth.

Mac stands there for a moment, letting the door close softly behind him.

His eyes on me.

Chapter 22

Mac

My cousins cheer when I walk back into the bar. “All part of a day’s work,” I say. They clap me on the back, saying something about my granddad.

I should go to Shelby. See how she’s doing. But I don’t. I go straight to my office, closing the door behind me. I sink down into the chair still turned toward that whiteboard, my hands shaking as I sink my forehead into them.

There’s a knock at the door a moment later.

I stand up, already knowing it’s going to be her. “Come in,” I say, my voice surprisingly level, considering what just happened.

Shelby walks in, looking flushed and overwhelmed and worried and beautiful. “Mac?”

For a moment, I only stare at her. At the little crease between her eyebrows as she takes me in. The pink at the apple of her cheeks.

The soft plush of her bottom lip, pink as a spring rose.

The only words I can think of come tumbling out of my mouth.

“Do it again.”

“What?” There’s raucous laughter outside. She closes the door behind her and walks in closer. “Did you say?—”

“Do it again, Shelby,” I rasp. “Please. Not in front of him. I don’t want him having any piece of it.”

“I—” The tip of her tongue darts out, wetting those lips I can’t take my eyes off, and I can’t stand it anymore.

I slide my hands over her ribs, pulling her forward until she’s pressed up against me. Her whole perfect soft self melds into me, fitting me like we’re two broken pieces that finally,finallymatch.

“Let me, then,” I say, dipping my face down. I need her permission. I won’t do it without it. “Please.”

Shelby’s eyelashes flutter, her hands going to my chest, and for a painful moment, I’m sure she’s going to push me away. Tell me I’m sorely mistaken, that this wasn’t what any of this meant. I was a means to an end. That I’m an idea, a figment, a piece of meat people have idealized dreams about but don’t ever really want to know.

Then her hands slide up, snaking around my neck, and she rises up on her toes, her breath a warm flower against my lips.

“Kiss me, Mac,” she breathes. “For real this time.”

I don’t waste another second. I lift my hands, sliding them into her hair. Her lips are even softer than my feverish memory recalls. Her body is warm and electric and plush and perfect beneath my oversized hand as I slide one to her back and press her more firmly against me.

She opens her lips for me, just enough that I brush my tongue against her upper lip, and she sucks in the slightest intake of breath through the little gap between our mouths.

My already rapidly swelling dick turns to steel at this sound; it’s Pavlovian now, I know it. Every time she sighs, gasps, breathes, I’m going to get hard.

“Jesus, Shelby,” I say against her lips, our teeth clicking. It’s not awkward. It’s indescribably perfect. I close any last bit of space between us and take the kiss greedily, my hands roving herback, her neck, her shoulder blades. I can’t get enough. I’ll never get enough.

Shelby, Shelby, Shelby,I think as I drink her in.Shelby.

Finally I realize I’m devouring her, that this is probably not what she signed up for since our last kiss was so chaste.

I break the kiss, and I immediately want her back.

But I step back instead, forcing myself to give her space.

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