Page 42 of Trying Not to Need You

“You make it really hard for me to resist you.”

“Good,” he says, his hand on my back, pulling me a little closer. There’s no space between our bodies. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. The song changes, this one a faster beat, but Macklin doesn’t pull away. We keep swaying as if the beat is slow. I’m sure we look ridiculous, and my sisters are going to have a field day with this turn of events, but I don’t care.

This is where I want to be. In his arms, slow dancing to a fast song on New Year’s Eve.

One song bleeds into another, and my head ends up resting on his chest. We’re barely swaying to the music, but neither one of us seems to care. We’re exactly where we want to be. The band announces it’s almost time to count down to the New Year, and I lift my head to find Macklin watching me intently.

Keeping one hand on my back, tethering me to him, the other cradles my cheek. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Are you asking for permission?”

That earns me a smile. “I guess I am. I promised you I’d go at your pace.”

“It’s just a kiss, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, baby. It’ll never be ‘just’ anything where you and I are concerned.”

The crowd starts to count down, and I hold his stare.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

My heart is thundering in my chest.

Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

I rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his. He groans and immediately takes control, his tongue tracing my lips, and I open for him. His hand that’s pressed against my back tightens on the sweater I’m wearing, and this time, it’s me who groans.

I lose all track of time. It could be seconds or minutes, even hours, as he kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe. It’s not just him. I’m a full participant. I won’t lie and say I haven’t wondered what kissing him would be like these last few weeks. Hell, thirteen-year-old me is dancing around my bedroom, hugging my pillow right now.

I never expected his lips against mine to be a life-altering experience, but here we are. I know without a shadow of a doubt that this kiss changes things. It’s changed me, and that’s scary because I lost my heart to a man who didn’t take care of it. I don’t think I can live through that again.

His lips against mine send a quiet warmth through me. It’s calm and electric at the same time. It’s as if my body knows him as I lean in closer, begging for more. His tongue slides against mine, and I’m fisting his shirt, holding him next to me, afraid this kiss will end. Afraid to lose the moment.

Everything around us disappears. The cheers, the music, they’re silent. They don’t matter. All that matters is Macklin and this kiss. This moment between us. The intensity of it makes my chest feel full in a way it’s never been.

I know that heartbreak is a part of life, but with Macklin, that pain would ruin me.

“Fuck,” he rasps, slowing the kiss and resting his forehead against mine. “Happy New Year, baby.”

I melt into him. “Happy New Year,” I rasp, because that kiss stole all my oxygen. In the middle of the chaos of celebrating the New Year, his lips against mine, the taste of him on my tongue, it grips me as if it’s the only thing real in my life in months, if not years.

Three months ago, the plan for New Year’s Eve was some corporate dinner that Todd’s firm was holding. I hated those events. They were too stuffy, too many entitled assholes.

This… tonight, it’s like a dream come true, and Macklin, well, he makes everything better.

Twelve

Macklin

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips when I pull into the stables at Magnolia Estates. I don’t know if Baylor is done for the day, but she usually comes out to visit the horses in the afternoon. I’m usually here by now, but I had the vet out this morning to check up on a mare that’s about to deliver any day now. Who knows, maybe she and Ellison will deliver at the same time.

I chuckle at myself as I grab my phone and climb out of the truck. The weather is warmer today, but it’s still January in Tennessee, and Mother Nature might be luring us in with the sunshine, but we have a chance of snow later this week, and the temps are supposed to drop again.

As I approach the back entrance of the stables, I hear voices. I freeze to listen as I quietly close the door.

“Go home, Todd,” Baylor says, and my hackles rise.

I take another step, trying to be as quiet as possible. Is it wrong? Yes. Do I give a fuck? Nope, not a single one.