Just This Night (22 page)

“I see,” Beth said, obviously guessing where this story was going. And why wouldn't she? Looking back on it now, it was all such a cliché.

“Anyway, there was this news director at our Boston station. A real bigwig named Mike who had been there for years. He was very good at his job—and also very married. But that didn't stop Victoria from seducing him. Soon, she was getting all the plum assignments and moving up the ranks.” I shook my head. “And me, being the idiot that I was, thought she was just good at her job.”

“Ugh.” Beth gave me a pitying look. “I'm so sorry. You must have been devastated when you found out.”

“I didn't just find out. I caught them in the act,” I told her, fidgeting with my cup. “I'd come in to the station late to edit a piece and found them going at it on his desk.” I grimaced, my mind flashing back to the scene. Their bodies, naked and writhing. “I reacted like any husband would, I guess. I beat the shit out of him. My very own boss.” I sighed. “I was fired, of course, and the guy told me I'd never work in Boston again.”

“That's ridiculous! Couldn't you have sued for wrongful dismissal or something?”

I shrugged. “I could have, I guess. But I wasn't exactly in
a rational state of mind at that point. Instead I did something much more idiotic. I posted the whole thing on social media—photos and everything. Called the guy out for sleeping with a married woman who was not his wife. At the time I was so blinded by my thirst for revenge I didn't think the consequences through.”

“What happened?”

“The whole thing went viral. The news director got fired. His wife divorced him. And Victoria—well, she became a pariah around town. Not that she was an innocent party, mind you. But some of the stuff people said. . . .” I shook my head. “Let's just say it got really ugly. And no other station wanted to touch her with a ten-foot pole.”

“I can imagine. That's why I didn't want the whole Stephanie thing to get out. And that's minor compared to something like this.”

“Exactly,” I said. “In any case, she called in a few favors, pulled a few strings and suddenly she was offered an international correspondent job overseas. I guess she figured it was her only chance to start over and redeem herself. Only problem? It meant leaving me and Ashley behind. But hey,” I added bitterly, “in her mind I was the asshole who put her in this position to begin with. And Ashley, well, she was just collateral damage.”

“I'm so sorry, Mac.”

“Me, too. And, of course, Ash didn't understand. She still doesn't. And how could she? One night her mommy is there, putting her to bed. The next she's gone—presumably forever. Without even a ‘see yah later, kiddo.'”

“She didn't even try to explain it to her?”

“I don't think she cared enough to try.” I frowned. “Anyway, as you can imagine, I wasn't in a great state after all that and I'd pretty much sworn off women forever. In fact, when I went to that club, the last thing I planned on was hooking up. But then I met you. And suddenly I found myself going against everything I promised myself. Everything I promised my little girl.” I gave Beth a tortured look. “And
then the next morning I woke up in your bed. And I realized how much I didn't want to leave . . .”

“Oh, Mac.”

Beth grabbed me and kissed me, her cold lips pressing against mine, taking away the need to continue. Because I didn't need to continue, I suddenly realized. Because she already knew. She already understood. And yet, she chose to kiss me anyway. To take me—the underserving, weak-willed bastard—for who I was. And who she believed I could be.

I kissed her back. And in an instant there was no more one-night stand and guilt and regret. No more tortured past and bad decisions. Only her soft mouth on mine. Her tongue tangling with my own. As if trying to convey something very important that couldn't be explained with mere words.

I pulled her to me and I could feel her heartbeat, fast and hard, against my chest. She was nervous, but she was also excited. She was scared, but she wasn't going to let herself pull away. Chills spun down my spine as she wrapped her arms around my back and held me tight. Secure. She tasted like spun sugar and sunshine. She tasted like home.

Lost in the kiss, for a moment I forgot where I was. What we were supposed to be doing. All I could focus on were her lips on mine. My hands tangled in her hair. But then, suddenly, something cold and wet struck my cheek. I pulled away, startled. Confused. Then a smile spread across my face when I realized what it was that had hit me.

“They're having a snowball fight!” Beth exclaimed with a grin.

“I haven't had a good snowball fight in ages,” I declared, jumping to my feet. I grabbed a fistful of white powder, molding it into the perfect ball of snow. When I'd finished, I threw it expertly at Beth, striking her square in the chest.

“Hey!” she protested, grabbing her own handful of the white stuff as she scrambled up from the blanket. I tried to dodge, but she was too quick and her shot rang true, smacking me in the shoulder. Laughing, I lobbed another in her direction, but this time she was able to skip nimbly aside.

“Missed me, missed me,” she taunted.

Now you've got to kiss me.

Been there, done that
, I thought with a secret smile. Though I'd be more than okay with doing it again.

But first things first. I grabbed another handful of snow, then charged toward her, grabbing her by the jacket and smashing a snowball into her face.

She screamed in protest. “Oh, is that how you want to play? It's on, Mac Daddy, it's so on!”

Scooping up a huge amount of snow in one hand, she grabbed me by the sweatshirt and stuffed the entire thing down my chest. In an instant, I was ice cold and I screamed in protest as I tried to shake it out.

Thankfully Ashley showed up then, my little princess in shining armor. “Ha, ha!” I cried. “Now you've met my secret weapon.”

“No way, Daddy!” Ashley corrected. “I'm on Beth's team!” She hurled a huge snowball in my direction.

“What? My own daughter? A traitor to her dear old dad?” I placed a hand over my heart, as if mortally wounded by this devastating betrayal by my own flesh and blood. But inside, I could only smile as the two girls ganged up on me, combining forces to knock me into the snow.

My
two girls.

We played for hours, until we were thoroughly soaked to the bone. Finally, the sun began to descend and we decided it would be best to get back before we froze to death.

I considered dropping Beth off at her apartment, but the idea of breaking up our cozy little group made me hesitate. I wanted her to stick around a little longer. I knew my daughter would want the same. And really, was there anything truly holding me back? Ashley was thrilled to have her. I didn't want her to leave . . .

“Do you like chili?” I found myself asking. “It's my singular culinary achievement and I'm thinking it'd be a great way to end the day, if you didn't have other plans.”

Beth grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

Actually it sounded like heaven.

When we arrived home, we all changed into dry clothes. Since Beth didn't have any with her, I offered her an old button-down flannel shirt and sweatpants. But the sweatpants wouldn't stay up and the shirt fell to her knees so she decided to just wear it as a dress instead.

Which was fine by me.

She and Ashley played videogames while I cooked. And soon the house was filled with squealing and laughter from both the girls. My heart felt very full as I announced dinner was ready and they both scrambled to take their seats at the dining room table. Even being married to Victoria for six years—we never had this kind of domestic bliss. We worked opposite shifts, were always passing in the night. And if we did ever eat together, it was usually very late, long after Ashley had gone to bed.

This was like how real people did it. Real families.

Ashley was exhausted from the action-packed day and soon was practically falling asleep at the dinner table. I carried her to bed and tucked her in with her stuffed lion—and for once she didn't even utter a word of protest or demand a family hug.

Once she was settled, I headed back out to find Beth, who had brought all the dishes to the sink and was currently washing them. When I approached, she gave me a shy smile. God, she looked so good in my shirt. I tried not to think about how much better she'd look without it.

“You don't have to do that,” I said, nodding at the sink.

“You cooked dinner. It's the least I could do.”

“Well, then how about I make the drinks?” I pulled out the blender and a bottle of margarita mix.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Don't suppose you have any Anejo Banjo lying around . . .”

I grinned. I was hoping she'd ask that. “Actually,” I reached up into the cabinet and pulled down the bottle I'd been saving. “Ta-da!”

“Is that . . . ?” She did a double take. Then she laughed as she took a closer look at the label. “How is that possible? This literally doesn't exist.”

“It does now,” I declared. “Thanks to me getting creative with my printer.”

“That is truly awesome,” she cried, grabbing the bottle in her still soapy hand and studying it closer. “We should totally label a bottle of some two buck chuck and send it to our bartender friend.”

“I'm sure he would love that,” I said with a nod. “It
is
his favorite, of course.”

“Indeed. He orders it
all the time.”

I smiled at her. She smiled back at me. I took her soapy hands and dried them off with a dishtowel.

“Enough slave labor. Go sit on the couch, woman. And let me make you a drink.”

She blushed. “If you insist.”

“I absolutely do.”

I released her hands, then watched her walk to the couch, unable not to focus on her long, bare legs beneath my shirt. I suddenly wondered if she was wearing underwear or if that, too, was in the dryer.

Forcing my attention back to the blender, I made the drinks, then poured them into red Solo cups and brought them over to the coffee table, setting them down before her. She took one in her hands and held it up.

“Cheers!”

We clinked cups. Then I watched as she put the cup to her mouth, her full lips parting to accept the liquid offering. The same way they'd parted under my tongue just a few hours before. Groaning, I took a big slug of my margarita—a vain attempt to cool my lust-filled thoughts. Unfortunately, all it did was give me instant brain freeze.

“Argh!” I cried, clutching my head in my hands, falling back onto the couch as icy pain stabbed me in the skull without mercy. Beth looked at me, at first, concerned, then burst out laughing as she realized the source of my sudden affliction.

“It's not funny,” I protested, rubbing my head and nose.

“I know, I know. Sorry. Here, let me help. I know a little trick.”

Before I knew it, she had scooted over next to me, her bare thigh pressing against the side of my leg. Then she reached over, prying open my mouth and sticking her thumb inside. I froze, unable to move, as she proceeded to press her thumb against the roof of my mouth, rubbing it slowly against the palette.

My brain freeze began to fade . . . but not before something else began to grow.

Oh God.

“Is that better?” she asked.

“Mmhm,” I agreed, trying to talk with her thumb in my mouth. “Muth bether.”

“Good,” she pronounced, then started to withdraw her thumb. But my mouth had other ideas and I found myself wrapping my lips around the digit, pulling her back in and sucking hard. She looked startled for a moment, then wistful, allowing me to swirl my tongue around her thumb, then bite down lightly on the nail. Then I climbed on top of her, straddling those bare thighs, reaching out to cup her breasts in my hands, brushing my own thumbs across her nipples. She moaned softly, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the couch. My erection strained against my pants as I continued to fondle her, her nipples growing hard as diamonds beneath my hands.

Realizing I was getting carried away, I let her thumb slip from my mouth and withdrew my hands. She opened her eyes, looking up at me with a mixture of wonder and fear. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth was slightly parted. Her expression soft and dreamy.

“Please don't stop,” she whispered.

A slow smile spread across my face. “Oh, believe me, I'm just getting started.” I leaned in to kiss her. “In fact, if I have my way, we'll be doing this all night long.”

BETH

D
anger, danger!

As his mouth came down on my own, warning bells rang through my head. My brain protested loudly that I should get off the couch, run out the door, go home, go to sleep—alone—and wake up the next morning with no regrets. Opening myself up, once again, to this—with no real assurance that this time would stick—it was dangerous. It was stupid. It was an unnecessary risk.

But I was going to take it anyway. Because it was worth it.
He
was worth it. Not as a one-night love lance. But as a guy I wanted as an exclusive.

Pushing away all doubts and fears, I opened my mouth to him, encouraging the fire that was building inside of me. Allowing myself to enjoy the sensation of his hot tongue invading my mouth, his five-o'clock shadow lightly scraping against my lips. Shivers ran up and down my entire body, and I found myself clutching onto him, as if for dear life.

He smiled at this, nibbling my lower lip as his hands dropped to grasp my hips. Then, without warning, he scooped me into his arms, as he had that very first night and my hands
circled his neck as he carried me into his bedroom and kicked the door shut. Then he lay me down gently onto the bed, taking care to ensure my head fell to a pillow before returning to the door to lock it.

He stood over the bed, looking down at me with hungry eyes. I squirmed, feeling hot and shy under his gaze. The shirt I was wearing had ridden up to my waist and the cold air from the ceiling fan blew down on my flushed skin.

“God, you're beautiful,” he murmured.

I swallowed heavily. The old me would have protested. Made excuses, pointed out cellulite. Instead, I forced myself to accept the compliment—mostly because I could tell from the look on his face that he meant it. He really thought I was beautiful. Which made me feel beautiful, too.

He climbed on top of me, straddling my thighs, working patiently to undo each button on my shirt, then parting it like the Red Sea. Then his hands found my stomach, skimmed across the skin, before reaching up to sweep over my breasts, which were already rock hard. His fingers and thumbs came together, squeezing my nipples and I squirmed in a mixture of torture and delight. I found myself reaching up, helping him pull his own shirt over his head, then running my fingers down his chest, exploring each hard plane of muscle, inlaid under silky soft skin. My eyes followed the dark path of hair that led temptingly to his jeans, and I reached out to trace it.

He groaned, grabbing me by the wrist, pulling me away. “Not yet,” he scolded in a hoarse voice. “It's still my turn.”

Setting my hand above my head, he lowered his mouth to my stomach, taking his time as he kissed a path down to the edge of my panties, all the while his right hand continued to fondle my breast. I gasped as his lips moved over my mound, so light I should have hardly felt it, and yet I felt it so much it almost did me in right then and there. With his free hand, he worked the panties to my ankles and I kicked them off. Then he settled his head between my legs, taking his time to thoroughly lick the insides of my thighs before his tongue slipped between my folds.

I cried out, my fists making handfuls of the sheets as I writhed beneath him, the sensation of his mouth pressing against my clit rocketing me to formerly unknown heights. His hands pressed against my thighs, keeping me open to him as he got to work, laving, sucking, licking. And when he finally bit down, ever so slightly, I felt myself exploding into a thousand stars.

“Oh, Mac,” I whispered, closing my eyes and riding out the wave of sensations, my body literally vibrating beneath him. Ryan had never made me come like this. Never took the time to help me see the stars. But Mac, he was like some kind of mad astronaut, effortlessly rocketing me into space.

Mac, who claimed to be so damaged, so broken. And yet he was the one who knew how to make me whole.

And suddenly, I was desperate to return the favor.

I looked up at him, blinking for a moment to focus my eyes, then giving him a grateful smile. “Is it my turn yet?” I asked, daring to reach out to cup him over his jeans. It was a daring move. Not a move the old Beth White would have made. But here, I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt daring.

As my hand moved lightly across him, he sucked in a breath. “If you'd like.”

I grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Actually I can't think of anything that I'd like more,” I assured him. Pushing him off me, back onto the bed on his back, I leaned over him, kissing him on the mouth as I worked to unbutton his jeans. He kissed me back, desperate and hungry, his tongue invading my mouth, practically begging for me to hurry up. I sucked on his tongue, to foreshadow my immediate plans elsewhere.

Speaking of, I could feel his erection now, straining against my hand as I pulled down his zipper. With his help, I then managed to shuck off his jeans, followed by his boxer briefs, then wrapped my hand around his cock. As I slid my hand up and down the shaft, my mouth kissed a trail down his stomach, along the dusky trail of hair I'd discovered earlier. This time, however, he didn't stop me as I reached my destination. Opening my mouth, I drew him into me, his rock hard yet silky soft cock sliding down my tongue.

He groaned. “Good God, Beth. You are seriously going to kill me.”

My mouth curved upward as my heart soared at the power his words evoked. It felt almost as good as being touched by his hands, to know what I was doing to him. And the fact that he was finally going to let me make him feel the way he'd been making me feel? I couldn't think of anything, at that moment, that I wanted more.

I pulled away, teasing the head of his cock with a swirl of my tongue. Then I looked up at him, meeting his eyes with my own.

“Don't worry, Jake MacDonald,” I said. “At least you'll die happy.”