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I rub away the mascara that’s already flaked off under my eyes this late in the day and fumble in my purse for my compact, powdering the tip of my nose and forehead to get rid of any shine. I reach for my lipstick, but then put it back, grinning to myself. It’ll only get messed up soon anyway.
Gabriel won’t care that I last showered this morning. If I know him at all, he’ll just be happy I’m here.
The elevator dings on the forty-ninth floor and I step out, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering like mad. I knock on his door cautiously, hating this hesitancy rushing through me.
What if he tells me it’s still not a good idea? What if I came all this way only to foolishly return home? What was I thinking coming here without at least texting him, giving him a heads up?
He opens the door, dressed in casual workout clothes like he recently came from the gym, brows raising at my unexpected presence. “Mackenzie. What are you doing here?”
“I want you,” I blurt out, unable to hold it in, to explain myself fully.
But he doesn’t seem to need any other explanation, a change coming over him as he moves forward to cup my face, his hands gentle but firm. No questioning, no second-guessing as he takes my mouth in a hard kiss, his lips insistent, needy.
I eagerly submit to him, kissing him back, running my hands over his forearms, squeezing those deliciously thick biceps, up and over his shoulders to the hard muscles of his back. I want him. This man who looks out for me, takes care of me, connects with me. I’ve never met anyone like him.
And I need him so bad.
He shuts the front door and lifts me in his arms, the action effortless on his part, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries me down the hallway toward his room. Toward the future.
Toward us.