Always Loving You (Danvers #6)(39)
Mac dropped his forehead against hers, seeming to struggle for words. “Baby . . . there is no right or wrong. Just having your hands on me—finally—is enough to send me to heaven. We’ll take it slow and if anything doesn’t feel right, then we stop, okay?”
Nodding her head against his, she allowed herself the freedom to sprinkle kisses over his handsome face. Being this close to Mac was like discovering a lost Christmas present. She was both giddy with excitement and trembling with the anticipation of the unknown. “I . . . I want to touch you. Can I?”
With a grin, Mac set her gently onto her feet. “Of course, sweetheart. You never need to ask me that.” He pulled her into his bedroom, stopping at the bottom of his king-size bed. Spending as much time as they had together the last few years, they’d both been in each other’s home countless times. She’d been in his bedroom when he gave her the tour of his home and a few other times—well, a lot of times that he wasn’t aware of. Each time she used the restroom across the hall, she crept in here and imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. To sleep in Mac’s arms each night without fear or hesitation. To be normal.
Now she was here, and it was finally happening. He stood still in front of her, with a hand on each side of her waist. In typical Mac style, he was waiting for her . . . always waiting for her, she thought as she reached a tentative hand to his chest, tracing the line of muscles there lightly. Only his increased breathing let her know how her touch affected him. When her exploring fingers reached the nub of his nipple, she tugged on it without thought, knowing how much pleasure she derived from doing the same thing to her own breasts. Mac moaned and his big body shifted from one foot to the other, but still he let her continue. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as instead of journeying upward, toward his handsome face, it skirted slowly downward, tickling through the thin trail of hair on his lower stomach. At this point, she felt that they were both holding their breaths to see what she would do next. This was uncharted territory for her, and she was fascinated. Where was her usual fear of men? She had only gotten this close with Mark, and even then, she had been a mass of nerves before he even removed his shirt. Here she was going down Mac’s happy trail and getting pretty damn close to the impressive package that was tenting the front of his boxers. Did she dare go there?
Her fingernail scrapped his belly button, causing Mac to issue a muffled curse before she had the answer to her question. She was at the waistband of his boxers and this felt like some kind of sexually defining moment. As if sensing her conflict, Mac applied pressure to her hips, trying to ease her back. No, damn it, she wasn’t stepping away this time. Boldly, she dropped her hand suddenly and cupped him through his boxers. He froze and she quickly loosened her grip slightly on his hard length. She had been on the verge of trying to hoist his cock in the air while yelling, “I did it, I did it!” Yeah, dismembering Mac on their first time together might ruin things a bit. She was horrified when her crazy thoughts got the best of her and she started giggling. Maybe a large part of it was just stress relief from the nerves of finally being in this moment, but the timing was certainly less than perfect. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” she gasped out as her body continued to shake in laughter.
When Mac put his hand over hers, trying to pry her fingers loose, she realized that she was still gripping his cock while laughing like a loon. “Avie—baby, I’m really hoping there’s no connection between my dick and your attack of the giggles.”
Releasing his vulnerable flesh, she sagged against him as her laughter died off. Now mortification was starting to set in. How could she have ruined the moment like that? No man wanted to be laughed at during sex, did he? “I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his naked chest. “I don’t know what happened. I was just . . . so relieved that I was . . . you know . . . finally doing this, and then I pictured what would happen if I accidentally pulled your pecker off because I . . . you know . . . tried high-fiving with it . . . like a fist pump and shit. I sound like a nut job, don’t I? I need to just stop talking!”
Mac’s big chest rumbled under her cheek as he too finally found the humor in the situation. “Ah, baby,” he said, chuckling, “while parts of that explanation have my cock wanting to hide for its own safety, I get it.” Pulling back slightly, he stroked the curve of her face before wrapping his big hand around the nape of her neck. “I think this is a . . . major moment in your life. I’ve got you, though, Ava, and this only goes as far as you want it to. You want to hold my cock and laugh because you conquered your fears, then you f*cking do it. Appreciate it if you left it intact, though.”
And, just that fast, her emotions jumped to the other end of the spectrum as tears threatened to choke her. Mac . . . her Mac. The man who got her, no matter how crazy she sounded or acted. Her body should have always belonged to him—and only him. “Make love to me, Mac,” she whispered.
Those words sent her gentle giant into immediate action. He undressed her, worshipping every inch of new skin he exposed with his hands and his lips. When he had her down to just her tiny black lace bra and matching bikini underwear, he stepped back. She looked in surprise at his retreating back until he clicked on one of the bedside lights. She started to protest, feeling too exposed. “I’ve waited my whole life to see you, Avie; I need you to come out of the shadows for me.”