Page 56 of Faking With You

He shrugs and smirks. “I was hoping you’d say yes to one of them, and I wanted to be prepared.”

I have damn butterflies in my stomach, and I hate it. Mac makes me feel so wanted, and I’m not sure any other man will make me feel the same way. I study him on the short drive to his place. His hand is once again resting on my thigh as his other grips the steering wheel. He looks strong and in control like this, but yet his grip on me is soft and comforting. It’s a dichotomy that has me practically melting.

When we get to his place, he keeps the lights low, offers me a blanket, and pulls up a movie, and I realize that without even having to say anything this man knows I need to decompress. I settle on the couch, and he pulls me into his side, wrapping his arm around me. Usually I can only fully relax by myself. I need a blanket and a show or movie I’ve seen a hundred times or a book. Something where I can completely shut myself off from the outside world. I find myself relaxing with Mac, though. I don’t feel like I’m still putting up a facade, but rather that I’m boneless and content.

I love that Mac doesn’t push to do something else, but rather joins me in this form of relaxation. We’re in the moment together.

When the movie finishes, we head to bed. The second I’m under the covers with him, he’s tracing his lips over my shoulder, up my neck, and I find myself immediately tilting my head to give him better access.

Mac keeps his touches soft, waiting for more direction from me before he does anything more. When he stops the trail his lips were making, I face him and crash my lips to his. I kiss him in a desperate way as though willing him to understand how things have changed. Trying to get an answer to if maybe he feels the same way.

His hands slowly make their way across my body, and I’m pushing at his pyjamas, needing to feel his skin on mine. I need to be closer to him. He lets me remove his shirt and then his lips find my shoulder again, his fingers delicately pushing at the strap of my tank top.

“Mac,” I whine.

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles against my skin. He pulls the strap and the top of my shirt down just enough that my breast is free from the fabric. His lips wrap around my nipple, and the most needy sound leaves me. I should be embarrassed, but I can’t find it in me to be.

He does the same with the other side of my top, leaving it sitting around my waist as his lips move to find my other breast, his hand replacing his mouth as he moves. He takes his time showing each breast attention, and I’m soaked, almost on the verge of begging him to touch me somewhere else.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Mac whispers, and my heart flutters.

These little praises he gives me are almost too much, feeding into my hope. He adjusts himself so he’s on his knees and looking down at me as he pulls my sleep shorts off slowly. His gaze is hot as he follows the trail of my shorts. When he tossesthem to the side, my legs fall open, providing him the perfect view to see just how wet I am for him.

“Bloody hell,” he says, his hands sliding from my knees, up my thighs until they’re on either side of my hips. “You are sin wrapped in a beautiful package.”

His finger traces from hip to hip, and I squirm, wanting more contact.

“I love how needy you get.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and I have to strain my ears to hear each word. As though programmed to respond to his every touch, I moan, and he watches my face as his fingers move from my lower belly to the tops of the thighs and delicately drag down a few inches as he traces floral like patterns over my skin.

I’m damn near hyperventilating when his fingers finally brush the outside of my pussy. He chuckles when I startle at the contact. He drags them through my wetness, circling my clit, sending my back off the bed at the contact. I bite my hand as the loudest moans try to leave me. Mac has learned to play my body like a fucking fiddle, and I don’t know if I should be elated or scared. Part of my mind wonders about all the other women he’s been with to make him so experienced, knowing that I could never live up to any of them. It took some serious sit-down sessions with myself to accept that I’m enough no matter what, and if he doesn’t see that, then that’s his own damn bad.

Mac doesn’t let me sit in my mind for long, his fingers finding my clit and gently circling it as he watches my face. I don’t feel close enough to him right now, so I find his hair and pull his head to mine, claiming his lips in a kiss. When my tongue slips between his lips, it seems to be his undoing. He’s pushing his own shorts down in frantic movements as he continues to kiss me.

He has to break our connection when he reaches into the night stand and grabs a condom, ripping it open between histeeth before rolling it down his erection. I’m panting from our kiss alone and my pure need for Mac right now. With the condom on, Mac finds my knee with his left hand, slowly dragging it up my leg until he grips the top of my thigh and lifts it so I wrap it around his waist. He drags his cock through my wetness and notches it at my entrance.

Without thought, my leg around his waist pulls him in, and he doesn’t fight it. We both inhale as he stretches me open, and I realize how long it’s been since we were last together like this. It feels new and familiar all at the same time. When our hips meet, he kisses me in a soft intimate way that has my heart leaping out of my chest.

He slowly pulls out before pushing back into me, and I find his eyes, deciding to tie myself to him even more like an idiot. I shouldn’t have looked in his eyes, because now I feel tears burning behind mine, this connection feeling so strong. Mac doesn’t fuck me like we did back in London. Instead he takes his time, both of our orgasms slowly building until we both tumble over the cliff together, and if that isn’t an apt metaphor for what my heart is currently feeling, I don’t know what is.

I manage to hold back my tears, not ready to show him just how much my heart is invested in this. He helps me clean up before we climb back into bed together, and for the first time all week, I get a proper nights rest.

CHAPTER 42

Eliza

Iswear I deserve a gold medal or something for how well I’ve kept myself together for the last two months. The more time I’ve spent with Mac, the more I’ve fallen for him. It didn’t help that we got to experience major life moments with our closest friends. We were both at the hospital to visit Caleb, Bailey, and their new baby, Simon. Simon is the second baby born into the friend group in the last two years, and each time we’ve all been there to share in the joy of a new addition. Each time I’m more and more grateful for the family I’ve found outside of blood. The difference this time is Mac was there too, and I hate that it made us feel more complete, like our little made family was missing him.

We celebrated the one-year birthday of Cate, Olivia and Josh’s daughter, and being surrounded by all of their family and friends in addition to our group was happiness overload. I ended up coming home after and wrapping myself in a blanket and putting on TV only for Mac to show up an hour later with a bag of take out and ice cream, and he just sat with me. No forced conversation, no excess sound, just the two of us on thecouch with food and a show. It was a feeling of to be loved is to be known, and that night I nearly cried myself to sleep at the thought that I only had a few more months with him.

Making the six-hour trip to Grayson’s hometown so we could surprise Hannah with his idea of another wedding, one surrounded by their friends and family, was just another nail in my coffin. I got to dance with Mac, being held in his arms as we moved to the music in Grayson’s parents' backyard, surrounded by so much love. We laughed with our friends and made memories I’ll not soon forget. I’ve become so dependent on his presence to sleep that I find that I’m at his place at least five nights a week now. He gave me a key, saying he liked having me there and doesn’t want me to have to wait for him to get home from work.

Just the other day it hit me that I’ve now taken over several drawers in his dresser and have an entire section in his closet. My stuff has its place in his bathroom drawers and in the shower, and I’ve apparently brought over enough of my hobby stuff that it has a home in the corner of his living room.

When we started talking about our upcoming trip to London and I was thinking about what I needed to pack, I realized that, with the exception of my suitcases and passport, I have everything I need at his place. That night while I was sitting on the couch and thinking about packing it all up to take back to my place, I nearly broke down in tears because I don’t want to. I don’t want to spend more time at my apartment or be apart from Mac.

I’m wrapping the last gift birthday gift for Jayden when Mac walks in the front door with food and his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder.

“Yes, Father, we’ll be there. I’ve purchased our flights already.” He places the bag on the counter and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I know.”