Page 62 of Bad Habit
I shook my head. “I’m not sure about anything.”
His eyebrows drew more closely together. “But you have a calling.”
Looking at the connection between our hands, I drew a long breath. “Lately… I don’t know. With all I learned about Mother, I wonder…” I wanted to talk more about this, and there was no one I wanted to discuss it with more than Mac, but not now. Not when I felt tired and romantic and hungry. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. This is sin time.” I looked into his eyes, hoping to convey the lust my body was feeling.
“Okay.” He shook his head. “What happens in Vegas…”
I waited, then asked, “What happens in Vegas?”
“Stays here. When we get home, everything will go back to normal. I have to believe that.” He looked worried.
“Youhaveto believe it? Why?”
“Because…” He stared down at the table, shaking his head.
“Please.” I squeezed his hand as my heart squeezed in my chest. “What’s wrong?”
His gaze snapped up. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“It’s all over you.” I leaned forward, lifting partially out of my chair, an invisible force wanting to catapult me over the corner of the table and into his lap. Something was weighing on his soul, and I wanted to lift it off.
He leaned forward and kissed me, softly, but it was a kiss that set off a million explosions inside me.
No longer able to hold back, I rose, rounded the corner of the table, and kissed him.
He pushed back his chair, and I slid onto this lap. Threading his fingers through my hair, he cupped my head and kissed me, hard, in a way that tightened my insides, reminding my womanly parts what he’d done to them earlier.
I opened my mouth and pulled his tongue inside, loving how it felt like it belonged there, how we were breathing together, how I felt at home in his arms. In fact, I could live like this forever. Live forever in his arms, kissing Mac, touching Mac, sustained solely by the warmth and strength from his body.
How was I ever going to survive if I didn’t get to kiss him every day—all day every day—for the rest of my life?
Someone knocked on our door, and Mac broke our kiss.
“Don’t stop.” I pulled his face toward mine.
“The food.” He held his lips back from mine. “It’s here.”
“I don’t need food.” I ran my hand down his chest, hoping to loosen his robe’s belt to give me access to his penis. “I need you.”
He rose, lifting me with him and setting me down on the table. “But first, we both need some food.”
* * *
Faith
As disappointed as I’d been when he’d chosen the room service over me, the second I smelled the food, hunger took over from lust. And after tasting the cheeseburger, fries, and milkshake he’d ordered, I realized he’d been right. Even though I couldn’t get through half of the greasy, delicious mound of food, I felt recharged, satisfied at the decadence of the meal—salty and rich and sweet all at once.
Mac pushed away his nearly finished food, then wiped his face with his napkin and tossed it on top of the plate. Adjusting his robe, he pushed back from the table.
As much as he’d tried to hide the evidence, it was plain to see that his penis was erect again, but that wasn’t all I noticed. Something was still on his mind. In fact, nothing had been the same between us since we’d come out of the bedroom.
“Mac.” I set my hand on the table between us. “What’s bothering you?”
“Bothering me?” Making a face like I was crazy, he shook his head. “I’m in Vegas with a beautiful woman. I just stuffed myself with good food. What the hell could be bothering me?” He stood and bent to kiss me.
I put my hands on his shoulders to hold him back. “No more kissing until you tell me.”
Still bent over me, his hands on the arms of my chair, he shook his head. “There’s nothing. Come on. It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”
