Chapter Sixteen

Dawson

I'd guessed Macy had issues with her boss… or her former boss. That much was obvious. But had I realized the guy was this much of a loser?

Hell, no.

I like that she got mad, rather than falling apart. I like the fire in her eyes, too. It's kinda sexy. So is touching her neck like this. I noticed it made her shiver when I first did it, which seemed like a good reaction. It suggests she wants more, even if she's still fighting her instincts.

"Did he?" I ask, sensing there's more to her story.

"Did he what?"

"Take responsibility?"

"Not immediately. I left him there, feeling sorry for himself, as usual. Then, the next day, when I got to work, I went to see him in his office. I wanted to talk through what we were gonna do about the apartment, because even though I was very clear he'd have to be the one to deal with it all, it was my money… my inheritance, that was invested in it."

"What did he say?" I ask.

"Not very much. He handed me a couple of bags, and when I looked inside, I saw all my things… the things I'd left at his apartment. That was when it hit home that he'd broken up with me. I don't know why I hadn't realized it before, but I guess I was in shock about the apartment, and didn't register anything else."

"So he just gave you back your belongings… at work?"

"Yeah. It was his way of drawing a line, I think."

"What a guy."

She smiles. "I thought something like that… although I don't remember the word ‘guy' creeping in there. I think ‘asshole' was the word that came to mind most of all."

"It seems accurate."

"It felt that way." She shakes her head, looking down at our joined hands, and I give hers a gentle squeeze, then get back to rubbing her knuckles with my thumb, smiling at her slight sigh. She keeps reacting like this… gasping when I told her I wished I'd been her first, gazing into my eyes whenever she gets the chance, and shuddering to my every touch. Which is why I'm not giving up. Whatever she says, she wants this as much as I do. She's just fighting it because of what James did to her. She thinks history is gonna repeat itself. Whereas I know that'll never happen. Not on my watch.

"Did he sell the apartment?" I ask.

"Eventually," she says, looking up at me, her eyes filled with sadness. "But not before I lost my job."

"You what?"

"I lost my job," she repeats, unnecessarily. I heard her the first time… unfortunately.

"Because it was too difficult to work with him once you'd broken up?" I ask, trying to make sense of it all.

"Yes, and no. I'm not gonna say it was easy, because it wasn't. We'd been together for a long time, and he was my first serious boyfriend. I know that sleeping with someone on your second date suggests we weren't taking things that seriously, but I was. I didn't lose my virginity lightly, and I assumed we'd be together forever, so I never expected the day would come when I'd have to behave like he meant nothing to me… while trying to do my job."

"Did he make that hard on you?"

It sounds like he might have done, so I'm surprised when she says, "Not especially. In some ways, things were no different to how they'd always been. We'd had to hide our relationship right from the start. Once we broke up, we weren't having to hide the fact that we'd been together, but we were having to pretend we weren't fighting all the time. Which we were… about the apartment. He was dragging his heels, which made little sense to me. He was paying the mortgage. I refused to contribute a dime on the basis that I wasn't the one who'd backed out of the deal and broken us up. He didn't argue. He just refused to get off of his ass and do anything about it."

"I'm sensing things came to a head?"

"They did. A few months after he broke up with me, we had an enormous fight at work. It was unprofessional of me, I know, but I was sick to death of waiting for him to put the apartment up for sale, so I marched into his office and told him I was gonna do it myself."

"What did he say?" I ask.

"Initially, he told me it was something we'd have to discuss elsewhere. He was probably right, but I was done waiting, so I kept pushing and pushing… until he eventually confessed that he'd already accepted an offer."

"He had?"

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't he tell you? Why make you believe he hadn't even spoken to a realtor, or done anything about selling it?"

"Because he'd sold it for less than we paid for it."

I think I know what's coming, but I ask, "How much less?"

"Seventy-two thousand."

"Excuse me?" Okay, so I hadn't been expecting that.

"In the months between us making our offer on the place, and him coming to sell it, property prices had taken a nosedive, on top of which he'd made the mistake of telling the realtor that we needed a quick sale, so they'd priced it accordingly… and he'd taken the first offer that came along."

"Without consulting you?"

"As it transpired, yes. He argued that I'd told him it was his problem, not mine. And even when I explained in no uncertain terms that I hadn't meant him to take that so literally, he still couldn't understand why I was mad at him."

"How could he not understand?" I say, shaking my head. "You'd put in eighty thousand, and he'd sold at a seventy-two thousand dollar loss, so by the time all the fees were paid, you were left with…"

"Nothing," she says, blinking back her tears. "There was actually a small deficit, which he made a point of telling me his uncle was going to cover. He made it sound like I should be grateful for that, even though I'd lost my grandmother's inheritance."

"You didn't lose it. He did."

"Maybe. But I felt terrible about it. Not just for myself, but for my parents."

"Why? They'd agreed it was a good idea."

"I know, and they didn't blame me."

"Good, because it wasn't your fault. It was his." I shift a little closer and move my hand from her neck, putting my arm around her. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, and she looks up at me, tilting her head to one side.

"He didn't think so, and neither did his uncle."

"What did his uncle have to do with any of it? Hadn't he caused enough trouble already?"

"Evidently not. He overheard us arguing. That's not surprising. We were pretty loud, and Mr. Thornton came marching into James's room, telling us to keep the noise down. James explained that he'd told me about the apartment, and then Mr. Thornton asked to see me in his office. I assumed he was gonna tell me off for bringing my personal problems with James into the office, and I was gonna tell him I didn't care, and that his nephew had brought it all on himself by losing my inheritance for me."

"Is that what happened?"

"No. He fired me."

"He what?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Okay, so he didn't actually fire me, but he asked me to leave… which is pretty much the same thing."

"What reason did he give?"

"He said it wasn't working out, and he thought I'd be better off looking for a position elsewhere. He paid me three months' severance, and to be honest, by the time I walked out the door an hour later, I was glad to get out of there."

"Did you settle with James about the property?" I ask.

"Not exactly. I made it clear I wasn't gonna just accept the situation. Then I wrote to James and told him I wanted him to pay me back… maybe not my entire inheritance, but at least half of it. I'd talked it over with Mum and Dad and they'd agreed that was fair."

"It was more than fair."

She shakes her head. "Not according to James."

"Did he disagree?"

"His lawyers did. They wrote back a very formal letter, explaining that as James and I weren't married, I had no claim. I'd taken the risk independently, and had to accept the loss in the same manner."

"Seriously?"

"That's what they said. I wasn't sure it was true, but in the meantime, while I'd been waiting to hear back from James – or as it transpired, his lawyers – I'd also been looking for a job. The first one I applied for was at another web design company. They interviewed me, and it all sounded really promising, but then they emailed to say they didn't think I was suitable. After that, I applied for three more jobs, and didn't even get called in to interview. I was getting low on money, and beginning to despair of finding anything, when I bumped into one of the people I'd worked with at WJT. I thought she was still there, but it transpired she'd left not long after me, and she'd got the job I'd gone for, at the place that had said I wasn't suitable."

"Did that bother you?"

"No. Not until she told me she'd heard that William Thornton had been telling people in the industry that I was unreliable. He'd even dropped hints about me stealing other people's designs and passing them off as my own. My friend explained to me that she'd told her new boss that none of William's lies were true, but it was too late for me by then. His word carried a lot more weight than hers ever would – or mine for that matter – and people had clearly listened to what he said. It was only when I got home that evening and found the letter from James's lawyer on the table that I realized how much I'd lost. Not just my savings, but my career, too… and all because I slept with my boss."

I shake my head, leaning in to her. "It wasn't because you slept with your boss, Macy. It was because your boss was a coward, who didn't deserve you."

"Either way, I'm still the one who lost everything," she says, sounding unconvinced.

"What did you do?" I ask. I'm not giving up on persuading her she's wrong, but I'd like to know how she wound up at my door.

"I ran away," she says, looking up at me. "I'm good at it, in case you haven't noticed."

"I have… kinda. But surely you didn't just leave without telling anyone."

"No. I explained it to my parents. I said I wanted to come and stay with Aunt Bernie. They'd brought me here quite a few times when I was little, and I thought a change of scene would do me good."

"Did they understand?"

"Not straight away. My Dad wanted me to stay and fight William – and James, I guess – not so much for the money, but to prove I hadn't done anything wrong. The problem was, it was all rumor. There was nothing tangible. Nothing I could prove. And besides, I didn't have any fight left in me. I was worn down, and in the end, they both agreed it would be better for me to get away. So, I packed a bag and while Dad drove me to the bus station, I called Aunt Bernie. The poor thing only had a couple of hours' notice of my arrival, but she was fine with it. Of course, at that stage, we all thought I'd only be staying here for a few weeks, just to give myself time to get my head around everything that had happened. But then I got into fixing her website, and I realized I liked it here… a lot more than I liked the idea of going back to Boston."

"So you stayed?"

"Yes."

"What do your parents think?" I ask. "Do they regret letting you come, now you've chosen not to go home?"

"I don't think so. To be honest, it's not something we've really talked about, although I think they regret that I ever got involved with James."

I know she harbors those same regrets, without even having to ask, but there's something else that intrigues me, given what happened to me, and the way I handled it. Macy's always struck me as such a cheerful person, right from the moment I first met her… and yet she's been treated so badly, I'm struggling to put those two things together.

"Didn't it ever get you down?" I ask her. "Didn't it get to you that your ex and his uncle had taken so much from you?"

"It did… for a while."

"So you are human, then? You didn't just bounce back from it?"

"Of course I'm human. And I wouldn't say I bounced back at all. Would you?"

"Why not? You seem quite happy." Compared to me, she seems fucking delirious.

"I am happy," she says. "But, if I'd bounced back from it, don't you think I'd be able to put aside my prejudice against getting involved with people who employ me?"

She has a point, I guess. "So, you're not over him?"

"Oh, God, yes," she says, smiling. "Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like flicking a switch. I'd put a lot into the relationship, you know? James was struggling, trying to find his way with his uncle, and growing apart from him… or that was how it seemed to me. I wanted to help, and…"

"Some people don't want to be helped, Macy," I say, interrupting her before she gets too carried away with how great things could have been between them.

"I know."

"I wasn't including myself in that," I add quickly, just in case she was wondering. "I think I wanted your help before I even knew you, and I know I needed it."

She smiles, the most uplifting of smiles, and I have to smile back, because it seems she has that effect on me now.

"I worked out for myself before I left Boston that James didn't need me, and then once I'd been here for a while, I realized there were more important things in life… and that he wasn't one of them. I decided that, if I wasn't important enough for him to commit to, he wasn't important enough for me to waste my time over."

I nod my head, my smile widening. "I like that philosophy."

"You can borrow it, if you like," she says, leaning in to me, which feels good.

"I don't need it," I say, and as her eyes lock with mine, I dip my head and kiss her. It's a risky move, even though I've kissed her once already. That was about me… about wanting to prove I could be enough for her. This is about her. It's about letting her know I've heard her story. I've heard every word she's said and I still wanna make something of this… even if she's not sure about me yet. And that means I need to try harder. I flick my tongue against her closed lips, and she sucks in a stuttered breath, giving me a chance… a chance to explore. I take it, and she responds, her tongue belying her claim to reticence and flickering against mine.

I wasn't wrong. She wants this. She wants me… and that means hell is gonna have to freeze over before I give up on her.

Or us.

I pull back before she can, because there are still things to be said, and I don't want her to be the one to end this.

"What do you want, Macy?" I ask, studying her slightly swollen lips.

"How do you mean?"

"Well… I think we've established we both like each other, so are you willing to consider starting something with me?" Or has it really been so long since I've been with a woman that I've misinterpreted everything that's happened here tonight?

"I—I…"

She's still unsure, but I don't wanna hear, ‘I can't'. Not now.

"I get that James hurt you, and that he took everything you had. I also get that it's probably hard to trust me, given the way I've behaved since you've known me, but you've gotta believe me when I say I'd never do anything to hurt you."

She stares up at me, and as much as I want to hear her say, ‘Yes', all I can see is the doubt in her eyes, which cuts through me more than any words ever could.

"It's getting kinda late," she says, proving that words still have the power to hurt me, too. She wants to leave? After everything we've shared tonight? She wants to go?

She sits forward, proving her point, and I turn and look out the window, surprised to see snowflakes drifting past. Lots of them.

"You can't drive home in this," I say. "It'll be treacherous out there." She follows the line of my gaze, and then looks at me, only this time, I'm not gonna wait for her to ask. I'm gonna offer. "Do you wanna stay?"

"Stay?"

"Yes. Like last night."

"In the guest room, you mean?"

I didn't, as it happens, but it seems that's the way her mind is going, and I can't push her for more.

"If that's what you want," I say, because I can't in all honesty answer ‘yes' to that question.

She stares at me for a moment longer and then nods her head.

I won't say I'm not disappointed by that, but at least she's agreed to stay, and I manage a smile as I gather up the cups from the table.

"You'd better send a message to your aunt," I say, wandering to the kitchen.

"I sent her one earlier, while you were fixing the coffee."

"Yes, but that was probably just to say you were gonna be late. Not that you weren't coming back at all."

"Oh… yes."

I turn and see the blush on her cheeks as she pulls out her phone and quickly types a message while I stand, waiting for her. When she's done, she replaces her phone and comes over, looking up at me as I escort her to the guest bedroom, even though she knows the way perfectly well.

"I'm sorry… I'm afraid I didn't get around to making the bed this morning," I say, and she shakes her head.

"I should have made it myself before I left."

"You didn't have to. Although I noticed what a tidy sleeper you are."

"Tidy?" she says, a smile tweaking at her lips.

"Yeah. If it hadn't been for the indent in the pillow, I'd never have known you'd slept here."

"Can I take it you're not a tidy sleeper?" she asks, as we approach the door, which is still ajar, as I left it earlier.

"Not in the slightest. The bed usually looks like an earthquake hit it when I get out."

Her smile fills out, and as she pushes the door open, I grab her hand, holding it in mine.

She gasps, just like she did before, and I gaze down into her upturned face.

"If you can't forget your prejudices, can you just ignore the fact that I'm your boss?"

"How? We work together every day. You own this place."

"What if I didn't?" I say, desperate now, moving closer, so I can feel the heat from her body, the urge to pull her closer almost overwhelming me. "What if I didn't own this place?"

"But you do."

"I know, but I could sell it."

She leans back slightly, her eyes widening. "Sell your bar? Why?"

"So we can be together."

"You… You can't do that."

"Yes, I can."

"But it's a part of you, Dawson," she says, bringing up her free hand and resting it on my chest. "You've spent years here, making it what it is. You can't just throw that away."

"I wouldn't be throwing anything away. Not if we could be together. Can't you see? I'd be gaining so much more than I'd be losing."

She shakes her head, letting out a long sigh, and I wonder what on earth I'm gonna have to say to convince her. Would ‘I'm in love with you' be too much? ‘I love you' wouldn't be enough. We've established that already, and I open my mouth to say those five little words just as she steps closer and looks up at me through her eyelashes, silencing me with a tilt of her head and bite on her bottom lip.

"I'd never ask you to sell your bar, Dawson," she whispers. "But there was something I was gonna ask you, before I left… before we realized it was snowing and I couldn't drive home."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was gonna ask if… if you could give me a little time?"

"Time for what?" I ask.

"To think about everything that's happened tonight. About what you've said… and what I've said."

My heart flips over in my chest. So, she didn't wanna go… not without offering me a crumb of hope first. And even if it is just a crumb, I'll take it.

"If that's what you need, then yes."

"Thank you," she says, leaning against me. I hold her, my arm around her waist, and she lets me.

"You don't have to thank me, Macy," I say. "And the offer's still there."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that if you think things through, and you still decide that me being your boss is a problem, then I'll sell the bar."

"You're serious, aren't you? You'd really do it?"

"For you? Yes. You, and no-one else."

She bites on her bottom lip again, and while I'm tempted to free it with a kiss, I've said I'll give her time. And I will… in a minute. First, there's something else I need to do, and I lean in and kiss her forehead, just gently, to let her know I'm hers, no matter what she decides.

I wasn't kidding when I said my bed resembled an earthquake after I'd slept in it, and now, looking down at it, I wish I'd made it this morning. Of course, I had other things on my mind then… things that are currently in my guest bedroom, thinking. Evidently.

I'd rather Macy was in here with me, but at least she didn't dismiss me out of hand. I thought she was, but she wasn't, and now I feel like I've got a chance…

For now, though, I just need to a make my bed, and fall into it.

Fortunately, it doesn't take me long, and as I climb under the covers, marveling at how strange it feels to be sober for the first time in ages, I can't help smiling.

I meant everything I said to Macy earlier. I'd sell the bar if I had to… even though it would be a wrench. She wasn't wrong about that. This place means a lot to me, but nowhere near as much as she does. I know that now, and that smile doesn't leave my lips as I turn over and snuggle down, ignoring my hard-on, and closing my eyes…

"Right there. Right there. Don't stop."

I pull all the way out, then slide back in to her tight pussy, giving her everything she wants, and more. She feels so good around my cock, but I don't want to rush this, and I build a steady rhythm, which she matches, parting her legs wide to take me deeper.

"Fuck, Macy. That's so fucking hot," I murmur, bending my head to suck on her nipples.

The headboard is banging in time with my thrusts, although I wish it wouldn't. The noise is annoying.

"Fill me," she whispers. "Give me everything you've got."

I'm close… really close. But that knocking sound is driving me insane.

I can't focus and my eyes shoot open as I realize it's not the headboard at all. It can't be, because I don't have one. The knocking is someone at my door… and there's only one person it can be.

"Come in," I call, gathering up the covers to make sure my hard-on is hidden from view. I didn't close the drapes, so it's not that dark in here.

The door nudges open, and my breath catches in my throat when Macy comes into the room. I'd expected it to be her, but not looking like this. Not in her underwear… like she was last night. I'm sober now, and like I said, it's not that dark in here. I can see her perfectly, and although I'm tempted to ask why she didn't put on some clothes before knocking at my door, that feels like a really dumb question, compared to, "What's wrong?"

Something clearly is, or she wouldn't be here.

"I'm freezing," she says, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms.

Again, that could be resolved by putting more clothes on… which makes me wonder if that's why she's really here.

"Would you like an extra blanket?" I ask, deciding to test the water, and maybe play a little while I'm about it.

Her face falls, her arms dropping to her sides, and I struggle to hide my smile. I want to jump for joy. I want to shout from the rooftops. Because I was right. She didn't come in here to tell me she's cold. She came in here for a different reason altogether… and I couldn't be happier about that.

"Oh, okay," she says, sounding disappointed, which just makes me smile even more.

"Unless you'd like to try the other alternative?" I say and she tilts her head.

"What's that?"

"Letting me warm you up?"

She licks her lips, then nods her head, and I pull back the cover, making sure not to lower it too far, as she scampers over, clambering in beside me.

I pull up the covers, keeping some of them between us, so she won't be able to feel my arousal, and hold her close, letting her nestle in my arms.

"Is that better?" I ask, and she turns slightly, looking up at me.

"I wasn't actually cold," she says, trying not to smile.

"No shit."

"You knew?" she says. "You knew I wasn't for real?"

"Of course."

"How?" She leans back in my arms, but doesn't go too far.

"If you'd been cold, you could've just put on some clothes. You didn't have to come in here and tempt me in your underwear."

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she says.

"I was drunk the last time."

"Too drunk to notice?"

"What do you think? I called you fucking beautiful, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." She snuggles into me again.

"I got it wrong, though," I say, surprised by how much I enjoy playing with her, and she leans away again, frowning up at me.

"You did?"

"Yeah. You're so much more than that." She smiles, lighting up my world, and resting her head on my chest.

"I've been thinking," she says.

"Is that what you came to tell me?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Okay. Did this thinking lead you to any conclusions?"

"It did. I've decided I don't want you to sell your bar."

"You already said that, and I told you, I will if I have to. If it's what you need."

"I don't," she says and I flip her over onto her back, leaning up on one elbow and looking down at her.

"You… You mean…?"

She nods her head, but before she can say a word, I cover her lips with mine, swallowing her sexy moan as our tongues meet in a gentle caress.

She hasn't answered my question, although I suppose I didn't ask it… not fully. And given the fact that we're lying here, and that I'm naked and she's only wearing her underwear, it feels like there are other – more important – questions to be asked.

"What do you want, Macy?" I say, breaking the kiss and gazing down at her perfect face.

"I don't want you to stop kissing me." She leans up, but I pull back again, maintaining a distance, which makes her pout and makes me smile.

"Did I ask what you don't want?"

"No. But you stopped kissing me."

"Only so I could find out what you want."

She lets out a sigh, reaching up and caressing my cheek with her fingertips. "I want all of you," she whispers, studying my face, and I surprise myself by actually growling as I lean back in and kiss her, so much harder than before. There seems little point in trying to hide my erection from her, so I pull back the covers, moving closer, and she writhes against me, her body twisting as I reach down, delving inside her lace panties. She gasps into my mouth, parting her legs as I discover her smooth, silky folds and smile to myself. She's shaved, just like in my dreams, and I skim my fingers over her clit, making her shudder, her back arching as I circle around her.

She pulls back from my kiss, drawing air into her lungs. "More," she whispers. "Give me more."

I pull down the cup of her bra, forcing her ample breast upwards and sucking on her nipple, as I insert a finger inside her entrance, gathering up her juices and smearing them over her clit, rubbing just a little harder. She clamps her hand on the back of my head, raising her hips at the same time.

"You're so fucking wet," I murmur, flicking my tongue across her hardened nipple.

"I'm close already," she says, struggling for breath. "I'm so close."

"Then come for me, Macy. Let me watch you."

As much as I love the way her nipple reacts to my tongue, I wanna see this, and I lean up, gazing down at her. She stares into my eyes as I rub her clit just a little harder, making her pant, right on the edge. I see the moment when she falls, her eyes pleading with me, her head rocking back as her muscles tighten. Then she cries out my name… not just once, but over and over, screaming at me for more as her body curls and twists, and I keep up the pressure on her clit, until her screams become sighs, and her muscles finally relax, her breasts heaving as she recovers.

"I hope that felt as good as it looked," I whisper and she smiles, nodding her head.

"It felt incredible."

"It looked amazing."

I lean in and kiss her again, pulling her onto her side so I can unfasten her bra, which I manage with one hand, sliding the straps from her shoulders and tossing it to the corner of the room. Leaning back, I study her breasts, which are just as I'd expected them to be… full and firm. The thing of dreams. I cup one in my hand, dipping my head to trace a circle around her nipple with my tongue.

"I wanna taste you," I whisper, looking up at her. I notice her eyes widen, and she licks her lips, smiling as I shift down the bed, raising her right leg, so I can duck underneath it, and then letting it rest on my shoulder. She's still wearing panties, and I go to nudge them aside, just as Macy places her fingers inside the waistband.

"I'll take them off," she says. "It'll be easier."

I'm not about to argue and I lean back, as she pulls down her underwear, raising her legs to free herself, and then throws her panties in the same vague direction as her bra.

"That's better," I say as she settles back into position, resting her leg on my shoulder again, and I'm faced with her perfect pussy, her lips all glistening and swollen. I bend my head, parting them with my tongue, and flick it over her clit.

"Oh, God… yes," she says, grinding her hips up into me while she brings her hand down on the back of my head. Her taste is intoxicating… delicately sweet, and I feast on her, sucking her clit into my mouth, and swallowing down her juices. I'm like a starving man, in need of sustenance, and I can't get enough of her, even when she bucks and writhes beneath me, squealing my name, and coming hard on my tongue. I keep at her, nipping her clit between my teeth, hungry for more.

She calms eventually, and although I could easily do that again, my cock has other ideas. It wants more, too, and I kneel up, leaning over her, my eyes leaving that divine pussy and raking up her body, taking in her flat stomach, slightly rounded hips, and getting back to those lovely firm breasts before I settle between her legs, my hands either side of her head.

She lets out a long sigh, resting her palms flat on my chest, her head tilting to the left.

"This is just how I imagined it would…" she says, although she stops talking, mid-sentence.

"What is? What's how you'd imagined?" I ask.

"Nothing." We might only have the moonlight, but I can see her blushing, and I lean a little closer.

"No, Macy. You can't hold back on me now. You said you'd imagined something. What was it?"

"I'd imagined you. Looking like this."

"So you'd given it some thought?" I say, playing with her again… because I can.

"Yes. I might have had doubts about us, but that was because you're my boss, not because I didn't want you."

"Good," I say, smiling and dipping my head to kiss her, just briefly. "Are you still having doubts?" I ask, resting my forehead against hers.

"No. Not unless you're gonna fire me."

I shake my head, leaning back and looking down at her. "Why on earth would I do that? You're good for business… and you're fucking great for me."

She giggles, and I although I'm about to laugh myself, I stop, hearing bells in my head, just like I did last night.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I heard bells," I say. "Like when you had to help me on the stairs."

She frowns. "But you were drunk then… and there were no bells, Dawson. There aren't any now, either. To be honest, I'm starting to think there must be something wrong with your hearing."

"You'll accuse me of being old next." She giggles again, and I kneel right back, staring down at her. "That's the sound I heard. It's not bells. It's you."

"Me?"

"Yes. It's the sound you make when you giggle. It's like bells ringing."

"No, it's not."

"It is to me."

I lean back over and kiss her, and the moment she moans into my mouth, I deepen the kiss, lowering my hips and letting my cock press against her. She parts her legs and I rub it along her folds, up and down, over and over, stroking against her clit with every move.

"Stop teasing me," she whimpers, breaking the kiss, her lips trembling with need.

"I need a condom." I pull back and lean over toward the nightstand, but she sits up slightly and grabs my arm, pulling me back.

"There were no condoms in my dreams."

"Dreams?" I say, looking down at her. "You said you'd imagined how I'd look. You didn't mention anything about dreams."

"Well… there were dreams. Lots of them. And none of them featured condoms."

"Would there have been a need?" I ask, feeling intrigued. "I mean, were we doing anything in your dreams that would have required condoms?"

"Oh, yes," she says with a smile. "All sorts of things… in all kinds of places."

"Like where?"

"Like downstairs in the bar… on one of the tables."

"Sounds exciting… as long as there was no-one else around."

"There wasn't. We'd closed the bar, and you kissed me, then you lifted me up onto the table and… the next thing I knew, I was naked."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah. It was a dream, and I guess I wanted to cut to the chase, not waste time getting undressed."

I can understand that, and I nod my head. "What happened once we were naked?"

"You made me come."

"How?"

"In exactly the same way as you did just now. On your tongue."

"I dreamed about you coming on my tongue, too?"

"You did?" she says, her eyes widening. "You dreamed about me?"

"All the fucking time," I say and she giggles. I can still hear those bells, but I keep quiet this time. It seems that's something I'm just gonna have to get used to, and it won't be a hardship.

"Was there a need for condoms in your dreams, too?" she asks, her eyes sparkling, even in the moonlight.

"There certainly was." I lean over to the nightstand again, but she grabs my arm, just like she did before, and I gaze down at her, lowering myself to my elbows and caressing her cheek with my fingertips. "This isn't a dream, Mace, and no matter how much I wanna make love to you without any barriers between us, this is real life, and in real life, there are consequences to doing things like that."

"Not when you're on birth control, there aren't," she says and I stop, my fingers stilling on her cheek and my breath halting in my throat.

"Birth control? You're on birth control?" She nods her head. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

She chuckles. "Because you asked about my dreams."

"Who needs dreams?" I murmur, kneeling up and palming my cock, rubbing it along her folds a couple more times and then pushing inside her. She's even tighter than I imagined she would be, and I take a moment, getting my head around that. "Lean up," I say. "Lean up on your elbows. I want you to watch this."

She does as I say, her eyes and mine both fixed on the point between us where the tip of my cock is joined with her.

"That looks so good," she whispers, mesmerized.

"How does it feel?"

"Big. Bigger than I expected."

I can't take my eyes from our bodies as I whisper. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. It feels so good."

I let out a sigh, a feeling of coming home at last, and I reach forward, dragging my eyes up, and locking them with hers as I cup her cheek and lean in, kissing her. Our tongues dart in and out of each other's mouths, and although I'm still only halfway inside her, I pull back, and mirror our kiss with my cock, edging back and forth, never going any deeper, our bodies in perfect harmony. She's breathing hard and before too long, she breaks the kiss, flopping down onto the mattress.

"I need you, Dawson," she says. "I need to feel you. All of you."

I nod my head and hold still as she raises her legs and I slowly slide all the way in, her wet walls clamping around me from base to tip.

"Oh, fuck…" I groan.

"Please… yes," she says at the same time, bringing her legs up even higher and wrapping them around me. I'm trapped, but I honestly couldn't care less, and I flex my hips, thrusting in and out of her, creating a slow, steady rhythm. It has to be slow. If I do anything else, I'm gonna come, and I'm not ready for that yet.

"Is that what you wanted?" I ask and she nods her head.

"Yes. You're so deep… so deep inside me…"

I smile and roll my hips on the next inward stroke, making her gasp, her lips parting as she stares up at me. I watch her closely, as she raises her hands, resting them on arms, then moving them up to my shoulders, as our bodies merge and meld, over and over… and over.

Her breasts are too tempting for words, her nipples hard and distended, and I balance on my right arm, cupping her breast with my left hand, which barely covers it. Her nipple hardens even more, pebbling into my palm, and I pinch it between my fingers, making her squeal with delight.

"Do that again," she whimpers and I do, just a little harder, although not so hard it would hurt her, and she gasps that time, her legs clamping a little tighter around me. "You're gonna…" she says. "You're gonna make me…"

Before she can finish her sentence, her body is overcome. She screams out the next word, coming hard around my cock, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as she grinds up into me. That's too much.

"I can't, babe… I can't hold on." She thrusts her hips up even further, like she wants me as far inside her as I can go, and as I plunge into her, one last time, my body succumbs, and I let out a roar, filling her deeply with everything I've got.

I can't think. I can't do anything, and I lower myself to my elbows as Macy lets her legs fall to the mattress, both of us struggling to breathe.

"Are you okay?" I whisper, managing to speak after a few moments.

"Yes. That was spectacular."

I'm not sure that's enough of a word for how I feel, or what we just did. It was like nothing I've ever experienced, although I don't think it's a good idea to say that, just in case Macy thinks I'm making comparisons. I'm not. It's just that she was…

"You were sensational, babe."

"You're sure?" she says, and I hate the doubt I can hear in her voice… like she's still not sure. I have to do something about that, even if I refuse to make comparisons.

"I'm positive." She smiles, nodding her head, and I summon the energy to pull out of her and turn us both onto our sides, facing each other. I'm still bone hard and she glances down between us, biting her bottom lip, which makes my cock twitch, and that in turn makes her smile widen. "Is that proof enough for you?" I ask, and she giggles.

"I guess so."

"I'd love to say we could go again," I say, caressing her cheek with my fingertips.

"But you're too tired?"

"I don't know whether it's tiredness or being sober for the first time in ages, but I'll admit I'm feeling a little jaded."

"In that case…" she says, snuggling against me, and I hold her close.

"Besides," I whisper, "I don't even wanna think what time of the morning it is… and I'm not gonna check, just in case it's later than I think it is. Because I really like the idea of falling asleep with you, and I don't want to find out that it's nearly time to get up."

"It's too dark for that, but I understand what you mean. I like the idea of falling asleep with you, too… or rather on you," she says, as I turn slightly, so I'm on my back and she gets comfortable beside me, her arm resting on my stomach, and her leg laying across mine.

This feels like the best place in the world to be right now, and even though I know we ought to get some sleep, there's something that needs saying. I can't let it slide, not after everything we've just done… but I can't tell her exactly how I feel. Not yet. Just in case it's too soon. Just in case she's not ready. Even so, I have to say something, and I pull her closer, smiling as she lets out a soft sigh.

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm falling for you?" I say, hoping that isn't too much, although I have instant doubts when she tenses in my arms.

"Falling for me?"

"Yes."

Did she want to hear words of love? Have I judged that all wrong?

She pulls away, leaning up on my chest, and looks at me, her smile making my heart flip over in my chest, as I silently sigh out my relief.

"I'm so glad you didn't say you're in love with me," she says, stealing back that relief in one sentence. Doesn't she want my love? After all the dreams we shared, even when we didn't realize we were, doesn't she want this to become anything more?

"Why?" I ask, dreading her answer, scared I'm gonna get burned again, and that there isn't enough vodka in the world to drown out that level of pain.

"Because I think it's better to take these things in stages," she says, resting her chin on my chest and tilting her head. "Fall for me, by all means, and then love me when you're sure you're ready."

What the hell? I'm so confused. Does she want my love, after all? Is she in love with me and waiting for me to get there, too? Because if she is…

"What does that mean?" I ask, impatience getting the better of me.

"It means I think we both want something to come of this," she says. "But we haven't known each other for very long, and we've both been hurt… you far worse than me. We don't need to rush into anything."

"I think we already did, didn't we?" I say, giving her a smile, relief washing over me again, as I realize she's just being cautious. She's not dismissing me. She wants us to be together… just like I do. And that's enough for me. She smiles back and I caress her cheek, cupping it in my hand. "As for getting hurt, I don't think we can say that what Stevie did to me was worse than anything James did to you."

She frowns slightly, leaning in to my touch. "Can't we? James didn't cheat. He didn't have an affair, or leave me for someone else."

"No, but he swindled you out of your inheritance. He behaved like a child. He didn't put you first, and he didn't treat you right, even when you were together. No man should ever make a woman feel like she has to ask for his time. And besides, as a very wise friend of mine told me recently, breaking up with someone isn't a contest about who got hurt the most. It's hard, no matter what happens. I think I'm just coming to terms with that… even if I am a little late getting to the party."

She smiles at me. "The friend you're talking about… that wouldn't be Tanner, would it?"

"It would, but how do you know him?"

"I don't. We've never met. But I know of him."

"You do?"

"Yes. I've been helping to plan his wedding."

I nod my head. "Of course. I should've thought."

"Peony mentioned that the two of you were close."

"We are. He owns the bookstore next door. I've known him all my life, and his divorce makes mine look like a walk in the park."

"Hmm… Peony told me something about that, too. She said it was messy, but what happened?" she says. "Do you mind me asking?"

"Not at all. His wife cheated."

"The same as Stevie?"

"No. Sabrina had infidelity down to a fine art. She did it more than once."

"That suggests Tanner forgave her the first time?" She tilts her head, frowning and confused.

"He did. Although I don't know how easy that was. I don't think he ever trusted her again, but he had to think about their son."

"Nash?"

"Yeah. How did you know about him?" I ask and she smiles.

"Because he's gonna be Tanner's best man."

I guess that makes sense and I nod my head again. "He was still quite little when Tanner found out that Sabrina was screwing around with Mitch."

"Mitch? As in Laurel's first husband?"

"Yeah. I guess you know her through Peony, too?"

"Yes, but I didn't realize…"

"Most people don't. As far as Tanner knows, Laurel has no idea about Sabrina and Mitch, and he'd like to keep it that way."

She nods her head. "So he stayed for Nash's sake?"

"He did."

"But not the second time?"

"No. Things were still pretty strained between them, but he was doing his best to make it work… until he caught Sabrina and her lover together. He wasn't about to give her another chance after that."

"I don't blame him. Was this before or after Stevie left?" she asks.

"Before, although I think she may have been cheating on me by then."

She shakes her head, confusing me, and then makes me gasp when she lowers her hand, wrapping it around my cock, and looking up at me with a sparkle in her eyes. "She must have been mad."

I can't help smiling. "If you say so."

"I do," she says, moving her hand up and down my shaft. She's gentle about it, but I have to flex my hips, pushing down the covers to give her better access. "I thought you were tired… or feeling too sober. I thought we were going to sleep?" she says, her voice thick with need.

"Then you shouldn't have started something."

"Do you want me to finish it?" she says, moving her hand faster and making her meaning obvious. She's not talking about stopping, that's for sure.

"Not like that, babe," I say and I grab her hand, rolling her onto her back, and making her squeal.

I part her legs with mine, raising myself above her. "Are you sure you've got the energy for this?" she says, trying not to laugh.

"Seriously? You wanna throw down a challenge like that?"

I palm my cock, tapping it against her clit until she's shuddering, grabbing at my arms, and struggling for breath, and then I slide inside her, making her writhe against me, a moan of satisfaction leaving her lips as I start to move…