Always Loving You (Danvers #6)(17)
“Hang on, baby; let me get you some Advil before we clean all your cuts.”
Ava wanted to swoon when Mac called her baby. He had used the endearment a few times over the years, but that was twice already today. He mostly called her Avie, which had always made her feel special, but baby . . . yeah, she liked that a lot. Unless . . . did he call Gwen that? She looked down at the couch she was sitting on. Had Gwen been here with Mac? Had they held hands, touched each other, had sex together . . . right where she was sitting? The thought made her physically sick, and she wanted to do nothing but run. She didn’t want to be anywhere that another woman had staked a claim to the man Ava loved.
Ava winced as she tried to move off the couch. Agony raced through her body as she leaned down to pick up her discarded shirt. She needed to get out of here . . . now. She was balancing unsteadily on her feet when Mac walked back in carrying a bottle and a glass of water. He looked surprised to see her standing there, with her shirt gripped tightly in one hand. “Mac . . . I’m just going to . . . I mean, I need to get back to my car.”
He shook a couple of tablets from the bottle that he was carrying out before setting it down. He handed them to her along with the glass, waiting until she had taken them before commenting on her sudden need to leave. “Avie . . . sit down, please. I need to patch you up before I take you back.”
She stood there uncertainly before asking, “Could we use a kitchen chair? I, um . . . just don’t want to sit back down on the couch.” No doubt, he thought she was cracking up, but after a moment’s hesitation, he walked toward his kitchen and returned seconds later with a wooden chair. She was so glad that he hadn’t questioned her aversion to his leather couch. What could she possibly say? “Oh, sorry. I’m afraid that you had sex with your girlfriend on it and the thought of sitting there makes me want to puke”? Nothing strange about that statement at all. Especially when she had handed him to Gwen on a shiny platter with a damn red bow attached to it.
Mac picked up his first aid kit and started cleaning her abrasions with an antiseptic wipe that stung bad enough to bring tears to her eyes. Having his hands gently touching almost every exposed inch of her skin was torture for a different reason. She only hoped that he thought the few times that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from flinching was from the pain and not the foreign feeling of his warm hands touching her body. She both feared and craved his touch. How many nights had she lain awake wishing he were there, lying next to her? Wishing she were a normal person who could wake up in the arms of the man she loved—without remembering another man’s hands on her body, holding her immobile and stripping away her innocence? The one thing she had wanted to give Mac from the moment she had started to see him as something more than her brother’s friend. It was always supposed to be him and only him, and that had been brutally stolen from them both. They could never get that back, but if she continued on the path of avoidance that she had taken for so many years, then the bastard who had raped her was still ruining her life, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to be free. She wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by someone who cared about her. It had to be Mac, as it was always meant to be.
“Avie . . . what’s going on with you? First, you go roaring off on the back of Dom’s bike, and next you’re flying down the streets of Garden City wrapping yourself around a car. This isn’t you; this isn’t the woman I know. I mean . . . is there something I need to know about you and Dom?”
Ava held her breath, wondering if Mac was aware that he had stopped treating her injuries and was now stroking a fingertip along the sensitive skin of her arm, causing an involuntary shiver. If he noticed, he gave no indication. He continued to touch her while waiting for her answer.
“Would it bother you?” she asked quietly. She knew it was juvenile to insinuate that there was something romantic between her and Dominic, but she wanted—no, she needed—Mac to care.
Mac expelled a breath before his hand moved from her arm and glided up to her neck, lingering on the pulse beating wildly there. “You have no idea, Avie. He’s my brother, and I’d give him everything I have . . . but not you, baby. Never you. You. Belong. To. Me.”
His hand rested against her neck, and their eyes locked. His expression was wild and fierce and for the first time she wasn’t scared. She wanted to taste his lips more than she wanted her next breath. Without allowing herself time to think, she raised her other hand, reaching up to pull his head lower. A hint of uncertainty flickered across his face just before their mouths connected and then her body sizzled with awareness of him. Unlike with their other kiss, Mac seemed to wait for her to take control, to deepen the contact. She tentatively touched her tongue along the seam of his lips, wanting to taste him. He groaned deep in his throat before opening his mouth and tangling his tongue with hers. In that moment, she understood for the first time where the inspiration for every romance novel and romantic movie came from. It was this . . . feeling as if you were on the verge of unlocking all the infinite secrets of the universe with just one kiss.
Time seemed to stand still as she experienced her first real kiss as a grown woman. Mac had kissed her one other time, but her fear had kept her from truly getting lost in the moment. This time, she was more than a willing participant. She took the lead in kissing him. She explored every corner of his mouth, tasting coffee and the minty flavor of his toothpaste. As his hands threaded through her hair, pulling her closer, she felt a small trickle of unease. She reminded herself that this was Mac. He’d never hurt her, never force her. She murmured a protest when his lips left her mouth only to kiss down her jaw, then her neck. “Mac . . . oh, Mac . . . please . . .” Something was buzzing on the table beside them, cutting through the haze of desire she was in. Mac cursed under his breath before pulling back. Almost in sync, they both looked over to see his phone lighting up and on the screen in bold letters it said CALL FROM GWEN.