Mack Daddy(41)

This was not good.

Frankie stepped into the tub and lost her balance. I ended up getting in with her to hold her up.

I tried like hell not to stare down at her *; I really did. Allowing myself one quick glance, I discovered that it was completely shaved.

Fuck. Me. This seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.

As the water poured down over us, I said, “I have to take your shirt off, okay?”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

This was not the time for me to be sobering up, but I was. After slipping the soaked shirt up in an attempt to get it over her head, I pretended not to notice the way her breasts bounced when they sprung free from the fabric. I tried not to look down, but I just couldn’t help it. She had the most amazing tits. They weren’t huge, but not small—way more than a handful each, like beautiful teardrops. Light pink areolas the size of half-dollars were perfectly centered on her creamy skin. Her nipples were extremely erect, as was my cock, which was bursting through my soaking wet jeans. I was still fully clothed under the water while she stood there buck-naked.

Turning her around so I wasn’t tempted to ogle her bare mound, I poured some soap onto a loofah and handed it to her.

“Wash yourself, Frankie.”

She took it from me and did a half-assed job rubbing it over her body.

I’d almost completely forgotten about the tattoo until it was staring me in the face through the clear bandage.

Fuck. Her ass.

Her ass was almost as amazing as her tits and *. It was so round, yet tight and blemish-free. I was seriously going to drop dead from blue balls on the shower floor.

Lathering some shampoo, I washed the vomit out of her hair, noticing how freaking long it was compared to when we’d first met. It was the most beautiful shade of ginger, shiny and straight like silk. I might have washed it a little longer than necessary.

She was clean, but I was still a mess. Frankie’s back was still toward me when I slipped my wet Polo shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor of the tub. I rubbed the loofah along my chest and neck and gave my hair a quick washing.

Frankie suddenly turned around and fell toward me, pressed her body against mine. That caused me to nearly fall back against the tile wall. With her tits plastered against my chest, she closed her eyes as I held her. I was pretty sure she was falling asleep on me.

The water continued to rain down on us. I stood there, holding her, unable to believe what was happening to me tonight. But being under that water with her, in that most intimate place—Frankie completely bare against me—made me realize more clearly than ever, that there was just no way to deny it.

She was the one.

Our time together seemed to flash before my eyes, all of our many conversations, ranging from our deepest thoughts and hang-ups to the strange and funny.

It was her.

It had always been her.





PAST


The room was spinning when I opened my eyes the next morning and reached for one of the pairs of glasses stashed away in my nightstand.

All I remembered was that I’d gotten a tattoo and that I’d had way too much to drink at the club on Lansdowne Street. Everything else was a blur.

My heart nearly skipped a beat when I noticed Mack lying next to me in bed. He had no shirt on, although he never usually slept in a shirt. He’d also never slept in my bed.

Holy shit. Mack was in my bed. Next to me.

He had one arm over his head, showcasing his armpit. I’d never realized that I could find a man’s underarm hair so sexy until this up-close look at Mack’s. It was just another example of my unwavering attraction to his virile beauty.

I looked down at myself to find I was dressed in an oversized T-shirt I rarely wore. Where did he even find it? At least, it covered the tops of my thighs, seeing as though I wasn’t wearing pants.

Where were my pants?

I was relieved to see I had underwear on, but it wasn’t the pair I’d worn yesterday.

What happened last night?

I nudged his shoulder. “Mack?”

“Mmm,” he moaned before turning around. His voice was groggy. “How are you feeling?”

My stomach ached, and my mouth was devoid of all moisture. “Like crap.”

“I figured that.”

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“What’s the last thing you remember from last night?”

“Being with you at the club.”

Mack sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “I’m in bed because after the shower, you begged me to lie next to you. You said you were scared to be alone.”

My stomach dropped. “The shower?”

He rubbed his eyes and laughed a little. “Nothing happened, Frankie. We both got pretty drunk last night. We danced a lot. I carried you home from the club, we talked candidly a little when we got home, and then you puked on both of us. So, I had to wash you off in the shower.”

“What does ‘talked candidly’ mean exactly?”

“It doesn’t matter. You were drunk. Anything you said…anything we both said…can be chalked up to that.”

My mind was now backtracking through what he’d told me. “Wait. I was naked in the shower? I took off my clothes?”

“You sort of had to, because you were covered in vomit. We both were. You needed my help. You couldn’t stand up straight. I was afraid you’d slip in the shower and crack your head open.”