Chapter 5

Macie opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight that shone through the window. The first thing her gaze landed on was the rose lying on the pillow next to her.

Hank wasn't in the bed, so he'd left a flower in his place. She was tempted to pinch herself to make sure this was all still real.

The two of them had slept together every single night for three weeks. Most of the time they stayed at the ranch, but on nights when she worked late, Hank would wait for her at her apartment. And while he granted her wish that he always be naked in her bed, that was pretty much the only command he took.

Instead, he was usually the one making sensual, kinky, gorgeous demands. Somehow, the man had persuaded her into doing a striptease for him, while wearing his cowboy hat and dancing to Joe Cocker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On." He'd tied her spread eagle to his bed countless times—the man was a huge fan of bondage. He'd tossed her over his lap twice and spanked her into orgasm. He'd taken her in the storage closet at the restaurant, but mercifully, he'd waited until the place was closed and everyone gone, though he'd promised that wouldn't always be the case. They'd taken countless showers and baths together. They'd christened the hayloft in his barn, her kitchen floor, the back of his truck, and made love on a blanket under the stars. They'd gone skinny-dipping at the lake, and last night, he'd taken her missionary style—something that was seven hundred miles from boring with Hank—in his candlelit bedroom on a bed of rose petals.

She was so in love it was ridiculous.

And that feeling doubled instantly when she caught the scent of bacon frying in the air.

Macie rose, glancing around the room. She grinned when she realized her clothes were nowhere to be found. Hank loved to hide them from her, insisting that it was fine for her to walk around naked.

Now, as always, she rifled through his dresser, tugging out one of his large T-shirts and pulling it on. The man was persistent.

She padded downstairs barefoot. She had the day off and she was hoping to entice him into playing hooky as well.

Pausing at the entrance to the kitchen, she leaned against the doorjamb and watched as he cooked up a breakfast fit for a king. He wore faded, loose-fitting jeans and a T-shirt, his typical work attire. The tray on the counter next to him told her he'd intended to bring the food to her in bed.

For a second, she considered sneaking back upstairs. She'd never had a man bring her breakfast in bed. But Hank turned around and caught her watching him before she could escape.

His gaze narrowed when he spotted her in his T-shirt. Glancing over, she saw her clothing, folded neatly on a chair in the corner.

"Stealing my shirts again?"

She pointed to her clothes. "Tit for tat, hotshot."

His eyes fell to her breasts and she rolled her eyes.

"So I say the word ‘tit' and you feel compelled to ogle mine?" she teased.

"You're the one walking around without a bra. Lift that damn shirt up. Give me a morning treat."

"It's been weeks, Hank. You would think you'd be a bit bored of that view by now."

"Never gonna happen." He waved the spatula, indicating his request still stood.

She lifted the shirt, giving him a quick peek-a-boo of not just her breasts, but also the fact she hadn't bothered with panties, before pulling it back down again.

Hank turned to the stove and pulled the pan off the heat.

Before she could figure out what he was doing, he was across the room. He took the front hem of the shirt and tugged it over her head, exposing her entire front, while leaving the shirt on her arms and back.

"What about my breakfast?" she asked, even though food was the absolute last thing she wanted at the moment. Which was somewhat shocking to her because…well…bacon.

Hank cupped her breasts, almost aggressively, squeezing them roughly in his large, calloused hands. God, she loved it when he went all caveman alpha male on her. She pressed her legs together when her pussy fluttered in response.

"Thanks for the flower," she whispered, when he kissed her cheek.

"Thank you for last night."

The man was diabolical. By mentioning the previous night, he'd taken her arousal up at least three more notches. Because last night had been amazing.

"Go bend over the table, Whiskey. Facedown. I'm going to fuck that pretty pussy of yours from behind."

"You sweet talker." He kissed her, fast and hard, before she moved across the room to do exactly what he asked.

Macie had never, not once, managed to resist one of his deep-voiced commands. Maybe one day, she'd find the willpower to play with him a bit, see what he'd do if she disobeyed. Something told her it would be worth it for the punishment, but she was never able to resist taking him up on his offers.

She tossed the shirt off completely before bending over the way he requested. When he remained where he was, she lifted up on her tiptoes and wiggled her ass at him.

He chuckled at her impatience, but gave in to her unspoken request that he get the lead out.

Stepping behind her, he ran his hands over her bare ass. Part of her expected him to spank her, but instead, he kept his touches gentle, soft caresses.

"Spread your legs apart."

She did so, shivering slightly when the cool air hit her pussy. She was so hot, so ready.

Hank ran his finger along her slit, from clit to anus. Last night, he'd coated two fingers with lube and fucked her ass with them. It had been their first foray into anal play, but there was no question it wouldn't be the last. She'd loved it. And given her very vocal climax, Hank knew it.

Macie released a sigh when she heard Hank tug down the zipper on his jeans. While she was a big fan of his foreplay, she was equally enamored of the times when he just got right down to business.

Hank leaned over her, placing a quick kiss on her bare shoulder. "Don't want to play, huh?"

She'd clearly given away her relief. "I'm thinking sex, bacon and then cuddling. We can do double foreplay tonight."

"Good plan," he replied with a chuckle. His cock nudged against her opening as he slid in slowly.

Once he was seated to the hilt, she expected him to keep going. She was surprised when he stopped.

Glancing over her shoulder, she realized he wasn't looking at her. Instead, his gaze was focused on something in the kitchen.

She followed that look, surprised when she discovered Porter standing at the back door. From the expression on his face, it was clear he hadn't intended to interrupt.

She expected Porter to offer a quick apology and back out, so she was shocked when Hank chose that moment to start moving.

Macie's gaze was still focused on Porter's face. He glanced from her, to Hank, then back again.

"Do you want him to leave, Macie?" Hank asked as he continued to rock inside her.

Her mind whirled over the question and what it meant. Hank had told her about his threesome with Porter and Sharon weeks ago. Since then, he'd never mentioned it again.

"I…" She didn't have a clue what to say.

"There's no right or wrong answer, Whiskey," Hank assured her, even as he kept fucking her…in front of Porter, who'd gone still as a statue. "Just tell me what you want. What you really want."

Porter's eyes met hers and she saw the same desire she'd seen that night a year ago. While they weren't compatible in terms of a love match, there had been no denying their bodies liked each other just fine.

Rather than respond, Macie lifted her chest up from the table, giving Porter a much better view of her breasts. They swayed as Hank began to thrust inside harder, faster.

"Macie." Porter whispered her name, the sound so quiet in the room, she read her name on his lips rather than hearing it.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open, locked with Porter's. Hank reached around her sides and took her breasts in his hands, cupping them, using them for purchase as he fucked her even harder.

Macie couldn't hold back her groans or the orgasm that was moving in faster than a hurricane in September.

"God, Hank," she gasped.

Her words prompted more strength from her lover. The table squeaked against the tile floor, moving an inch or so with each inward thrust.

Porter walked across the room, placing his thighs against the table, holding it still, making Hank's motions more potent, more powerful. Macie held her chest up with her elbows on the surface. Porter was tall, like Hank, so it was hard to keep her eyes on his face. She studied his chest instead as Hank took her.

Until Hank's fingers gripped her hair tightly, tugging her face upward, forcing her to see the impact their fucking was having on Porter.

God, he wanted her too.

"Do you like this, Macie?"

She couldn't speak, her breath coming too harshly, too loudly. Her heart was racing, with sheer excitement, arousal, and maybe even a little bit of fear. It was a potent combination.

She was naked between two fully dressed men, being fucked by one as the other watched. Single hottest moment of her life.

"Don't stop talking now, Mace. Tell me." Hank's voice was deep, demanding.

"I love it. So fucking much."

Her words seemed to free whatever grip Porter had on his emotions. She saw relief in his eyes. And so much need it almost hurt her to look at him.

Hank released his grip on her hair as his hands moved to her waist. He was close to the end. She could feel it.

Her gaze drifted lower as she spied the hard-on Porter was packing behind his jeans. She considered reaching out, but she was stopped when Porter shook his head.

He still leaned against the table, pushing against it to hold it steady for Hank's thrusts.

"Not this time," Porter murmured.

His comment obviously captured Hank's attention, clued her lover in to her intentions.

Hank reached for her wrists and tugged them behind her back, holding them tightly with one hand. The restraint forced her chest back to the table's surface.

Macie closed her eyes then, gave herself up to the moment, let go of every single thought racing through her mind and just let herself feel.

Her body trembled as her orgasm began. Hank kept her hands secured with one of his, his other hand gripped her hip. She was vaguely aware of another hand, stroking her hair gently.

Macie came loudly and Hank was with her, filling her with come as his climax shook the table. For several seconds afterward, Macie lay still, her cheek pressed against the table, her eyes closed.

Part of her was afraid to open them, to face what they'd just done.

Hank must have recognized her hesitance. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "It's okay, Macie."

"I can't believe we…I didn't know…" Her eyes flew open. She narrowed them as she looked over her shoulder at Hank, frustration taking over. "Why can't I ever express a complete thought with you? I don't have this trouble with anyone else."

"Did you like that?"

Leave it to Hank to cut to the chase. "Yeah. I did. This doesn't make me like a slut or anything, does it?"

Hank chuckled while Porter groaned. "I'm going to let you field that one, bro."

Macie looked up just in time to see Porter walking toward the back door. Without another word, he was gone.

"What did I say?"

"You spoke your mind. Porter's intimidated by that. He's never really mastered the art of talking to women."

"Just fucking them, huh?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate that description, but yeah, maybe. He's more the strong, silent type."

"Funny. That's sort of how I think of you."

Hank helped her rise from the table, tugging her into his embrace. "Not always easy to get a word in edgewise with you, Whiskey. Be surprised if most men didn't come across that way to you," he joked.

She lifted her head so that he could see her face and feigned annoyance. "You asked me what I thought."

"I did."

Macie reached for the T-shirt she'd tossed to the floor earlier and pulled it back on. "Well, that was something," she said. Her wits were slowly beginning to return. And with them, her voice. "Certainly didn't expect that when I got out of bed this morning."

Hank grinned. "Me either."

"You're really okay with it?"

Hank hesitated just a heartbeat too long. "Yes."

He was lying. She could tell. And it pissed her off. So she gave him another shot at the truth.

"Really?"

He nodded, his response quicker this time. "I told you, Macie, there's nothing I won't give you. I love you."

It was the first time he'd ever said those words. Though Macie had felt his love, almost from the very beginning, hearing him admit it filled her with so much emotion, it seeped out before she could stop it.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Dammit," she whispered. She was not a sappy person, not a crier. Unless she saw one of those Facebook clips people always shared of military men coming home to their delighted dogs, who would leap into their arms and make those pitiful, beautiful wailing sounds. Those videos always prompted a big cry, but other than that, she was solid as a rock.

Hank spotted the tears instantly, cupping her cheeks. He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I never thought I'd feel this way again. When Sharon died, I thought she'd taken my heart with her. You've proven me wrong."

And with that, she was completely undone. She sniffled loudly as a sob escaped.

"Dammit," she repeated. "I hate crying. Makes me look awful."

He grinned. "You're beautiful. You're always beautiful."

Her throat had seized up on the tears that were now pouring out of her eyes, but that didn't stop her from choking out the words she'd waited an entire lifetime to say. "I love you too." In her mind, she'd always imagined herself sounding much sweeter as she'd speak them softly to the man who stole her heart.

Instead they came out too loud and hoarse and hiccupy.

Hank didn't appear to mind that he'd just opened his heart up to a blubbering fool. He hugged her tightly once more, gracing her with the single biggest smile she had ever seen on his face.

He didn't say any more. He just held on to her until she pulled herself together. Then he blotted her face with a napkin, fried her up some more bacon, tugged her onto his lap and fed her.

Sex with Hank, and bacon.

Sort of made her want to pray for immortality.

Because there was no way Heaven could top this.