Chapter 19

19

Davey

I'm sitting at the dining room table when Mack walks in, the clothes dryer a low hum in the background. It's late and he's quiet, but the light must clue him in to my still being awake because his head pokes around the door a minute later.

"Davey?" His tone goes up. Less of a question and more … do I hear guilt? Or do I only want to hear guilt?

Fuck, I shouldn't have looked. Shouldn't have poked my head out the window, waiting for him. Then I never would have seen what I did.

"What are you doing up?" Mack asks, stepping into the room, big coat swamping him, nose bright red.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Oh."

"I'm fine."

His silence hangs between us. A huge question mark asking so many things we both know I can't answer. Their date must have been good to end with a kiss good night, and I know I need to say something because the elephant in the room keeps getting bigger.

All I have to do is check he had a nice time. Tell him the kids went down easily. Make sure Luke treated him right. Instead, I notice his wedding band missing from his finger, and what comes out of my mouth is "He looked like a good kisser."

And I can't say I loved the tone I used either.

Mack's face falls. "You saw that."

"Heard a car and wanted to make sure it wasn't someone turning up to rob the neighbor. It's late, after all."

His usually sweet, happy face turns stormy. "You said you didn't care if I went out."

"I don't." I push up from the table so that we're both standing.

"Kinda sounds like you care."

"I guess I didn't realize how late dates go these days, that's all."

He snorts, and it's heavy with derision.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"It's supposed to mean bullshit . Which is all that's coming out of your mouth."

"Bit hard for me to know what happens on a date when I can't remember the last one I went on."

Mack scoffs and moves into the kitchen, heading for the cupboard he keeps the glasses in. "Maybe you should check your MyMatch profile. I'm sure it will have the whole history on there."

My … Air rushes into my lungs. How the fuck did he find ou t about that? Mack isn't on the app. I checked. He's always been very anti-meeting people online.

He fills his glass and takes a long gulp, then sets the cup down heavily. "Yeah. I know. You've dated. So don't be a hypocrite."

"A hypocrite? I talked to a handful of men on there when I thought it would help me get over you! Do you have any idea the type of hole you left in me when you asked for a divorce? Signing those papers was the single hardest thing I've ever done in my life, Mack. Fuck."

"R-really?"

"You know it was. Come the fuck on."

"I … I thought you'd be happy. At least if you're not tied down to me, you can hook up with men in whatever cities you were in and not be held back by the old guy in a small town."

Old guy? Held back? Fury rings in my ears. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He averts his gaze. "I know you didn't feel the same way about me as when we first got together. You never wanted sex when you were home, and it was like … like I was … in your way."

"I was fucking tired! Between travel, work, and young kids, I was maxed out."

He squares his jaw determinedly. "It was more than that."

"Now who's talking complete bullshit?"

He whirls on me and crosses the kitchen to get in my face. "You think the divorce was easy for me? All I wanted was for you to choose us. I never actually thought you'd agree!"

I stare at him. One beat … two. I'm so stunned I forget to be angry. "Tell me you didn't suggest getting a divorce on a whim ?"

Mack's face falls. "Ah … well, maybe. "

"You didn't want to get divorced?"

He swallows. "I guess I didn't know how deeply ruined our relationship was. I didn't know you were that ready to go through with it."

Two years. I've lost two whole years, countless memories, and piled up way too much angst, all because I called a bluff neither of us knew he was making. I love Mack, but dear fucking god, do I want to strangle him right now. "You said you couldn't do this anymore!"

"I would do anything for you." His eyes are reddening, like he's holding back tears. "All you had to do was say no. All you had to do was show me that I'm the person you fell in love with. Instead, you agreed so fucking fast it's like you'd been waiting to bring it up yourself."

"I just wanted to make you happy instead of miserable all the damn time."

"Well, congratulations. Because I've been miserable ever since you left." He spins on his heel and leaves the room. A moment later, I hear him jogging up the stairs.

My heart is getting away from me, beating so fast in anger and regret and all the unspoken what-ifs that Mack left behind. While I'm drowning in the urge to pick up his empty glass and smash it, the indignation is struggling to hold on. Because he was right. Our marriage was at a breaking point, even if neither of us realized it. It's hard not to feel like we divorced for absolutely no reason, but if the last two years have given me anything, it's clarity.

We wouldn't have been able to sustain what we had.

We can't go back to that either.

Feeling like I'm on the edge of useless tears, I bypass the laundry to grab his pajamas I was warming up and climb the stairs. His bedroom door is closed, and I can't make out any noise coming from inside.

Trying to smother down my simmering frustration that we can't get our heads out of our asses, I tap lightly on the wood.

"What?"

Bracing myself, I push it open.

He's sitting on the side of the bed, clearly having run his hands through his hair a billion times. Without words, I step forward and hold out his warmed clothes.

Mack's mouth hangs open as he takes them. "I miss that, you know. When you're not here."

I shrug awkwardly. "You're always cold."

"Feeling colder than ever right now." He sets the pajamas down beside him, then holds out his hand.

I take it eagerly, gut swooping at his warmth. At the familiarity.

He doesn't stop pulling me closer until I'm standing between his legs. Then he sets his hands on my hips.

"What are you doing?"

Mack's thumb slips under the bottom of my shirt and finds the soft skin above my hip. "You never used your profile?"

"Never."

"Never dated?"

"Not even once."

"That doesn't mean you—have you ever, you know, seen anyone else?"

I feel like an idiot for admitting this, but I hold his eye and shake my head. "There's been no one but you."

"Oh, thank god." His forehead drops to rest on my diaphragm. "I couldn't look at another man. Then Art said you probably had, and I got in my head about it?—"

"I'm gonna kill Art. "

"Can I help?"

My hands find his face, and I tilt it up to look at me. Mack doesn't hold back how he feels. His eyes are open and honest, mixed with awe and love and everything that's always made me feel like a better person than I am.

His face is scruffy like always, neat stubble that scratches my palms, and I ache to feel it in other places. Every place.

I duck my head until our lips touch, and it's torture. I'm about to pull back again when Mack grips the front of my shirt, holding me in place.

"Again."

"Mack …"

"Kiss me." He sounds so desperate there's no way I can say no.

My lips crush his, hard and needy, and Mack gives me the same passion right back. There's something about the way he kisses that ticks every box for me, and no matter how many times I kiss him, the result is the same.

Pure ecstasy.

His strong tongue skims mine, and I groan as he deepens things, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck to anchor him, to keep him here with me.

From what I could see, his kiss with Luke was nothing like this.

And how could it be? No one can give Mack what he needs the way I can, and if I wasn't so fucking in love with this man, I'd shake him for putting us in this position.

Where we're in love and divorced.

So, so in love.

My feelings for him have never dulled; it was them that pushed me to do better, to be better. All I've ever wanted out of life was to give this man everything he needs .

Mack breaks the kiss, fingers knotted in my hair, lips trailing over the freckles on my nose like he always used to do, and says, "I want your lips around my dick."

My cock swells at those words. "Want to blow in my mouth, baby?"

"Please." Mack reaches for his belt, clumsily tugging it undone. "I've missed it so much."

Seeing the way he needs me has my heart pounding erratically. I strip off my shirt and go for my pants, watching as Mack reaches into his and pulls his dick out through his fly. If he thinks I'm not getting him completely naked, he's wrong.

I shove my underwear down and off and straighten to Mack licking his lips, eyes locked on my erection.

"Missed him too?" I ask.

He squirms to the edge of the bed, and I give myself a lazy tug as I step closer. Then, before he can lean forward and take me in his mouth, I drop to my knees.

"Take your shirt off."

"Davey …" He reaches for my dick, but I grab his hand and pin it to the bed.

"Now."

The frustration is clear as he unbuttons his shirt and then tosses it aside. "Better?"

"Not yet." I grab his pants, and he lifts his ass as I slide them off. As soon as I have Mack on full display for me, I sigh. He's perfect.

And so is his cock.

Not wanting to wait anymore, I lean forward and suck him into my mouth. His taste, the way he stretches my lips wide, how his fingers twist into my hair. I sink down lower, tongue sliding along his shaft until his head bumps the back of my throat .

"Fuck, Davey. You look so good on your knees for me."

This is where I was meant to be. Where our relationship was always supposed to be fulfilled to capacity. All the casual touches, and teasing, and affection, and frustrations … it all reaches completion the moment we're naked and alone, indulging in everything the other has to give.

I don't go all out to start with. Just tease him and taste his skin. Collect every drip of precum that hits my tongue. I pay his balls as much attention as his cock, using my hands and mouth to make him feel good. There are light scratch marks down his thighs, and it's so hard to stay on task when his ass is right there. All I'd have to do is throw his legs over my shoulders and go to town on his ass.

But his dick is tonight's focus.

I release his ball I'm sucking on and lick a stripe along the underside of his shaft instead. So pretty, he has my dick aching, and before I go back to sucking him off properly, I spit in my hand and wrap it around my cock.

The relief is instant.

With a moan, I get started on him again. Mack is rocking his hips, heavy breathing music to my ears. The way he murmurs my name lights a fire in my rib cage, and I'd do anything to bottle this moment. To always have the reminder of how good we are together.

I suck him down until his cock fills my throat, jerking fast at how wholly he fills me. It's a delicious stretch, quickly stealing my oxygen, but then I hear a " oh, shit, Davey ," and I know I'd rather pass out than pull off right now.

I love this man so much it hurts.

"So close," he gasps. "Fuck. Nearly there."

I pull back a little, just in time for his cum to flood my mouth. I swallow down every drop he gives me, loving the way his dick pulses in my mouth a couple of times before going still. Once he's done, I stand.

With one hand strangling my cock, I tilt Mack's face up to me with the other. His eyes are wonderfully unfocused, and I capture his mouth in a kiss. I keep him there, mouths fused together, slipping closer and closer to the edge myself.

Mack's breathing heavily into the kiss, and I know he can taste himself on me. It's something that used to drive him wild, and it makes me hornier than ever to tease him with it now.

My dick is almost painfully full, ready to shoot. The need is building at the base of my spine, and when Mack reaches up to cup my balls, it's all over.

I growl into our kiss as I mark him. Each rope of cum is lovingly milked onto his skin, deliberately making sure that every last drop hits him. He's mine. Skin, muscle, bone. Every piece that makes him up belongs to me, I can feel it. Right in my core. I rub the head of my cock into the mess until I'm too sensitive for more.

Then I straighten, panting as much as he was before. My head is spinning that we went there again, but this time, I don't doubt for a second whether that should have happened.

This time, there are no doubts.

It wasn't a mistake.

Mack holds my eyes as he slowly rubs my cum into his skin. "I'm not showering tonight," he says.

And he doesn't.