Page 110 of The Retaliation You Deliver

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“Y-yeah… uh…” I panic. Not because I don’t know how I feel, but because I’m not sure I’m ready to actually tell her yet.

If she doesn’t feel the same and looks at me with pity and horror, I’m not sure I’d be able to deal with it.

So instead, I let my fear control me.

“T-thank you.”

“Thank you? For…” Her movements get a little more forceful. “For jacking you off?” she asks with the cutest expression on her face.

“No, baby. Just for being you. For being here. For believing in me.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Lee. There isn’t anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

Pulling her hand from my underwear, I press it to the mattress above her head and roll over her.

“Yeah?” I ask, brushing my nose against hers.

“Yeah.” This time when she speaks her voice comes out all breathy and needy. Climbing between her legs, I roll my hips, letting her feel what she does to me. “Lee,” she moans.

“You do this to me, Macie. Only you.”

I capture her lips in a searing kiss, hoping that I can show her how I feel without having to confess those words quite yet.

We make out until neither of us can keep going and we pass out tangled in each other’s arms.

When I come to once more, she’s still pressed tightly against my body, her legs threaded through mine.

Assuming it’s her heat that’s woken me, I snuggle back in, pulling her tight. I’m just about to drift off again when a buzzing starts up.

Glancing over at my nightstand, I see my cell with the screen dark.

“Macie,” I whisper, not really wanting to wake her but knowing that her cell hardly ever rings so it might be important. “Macie, your cell.”

“Huh?” she asks groggily, opening her eyes to find me in the darkness.

“Your cell is ringing.”

“What time is it?”

“No idea. Late.”

“Shit. Okay.”

Throwing back the covers, she untangles herself from me and pads over to her purse.

She’s still wearing nothing but my jersey and the sight of her curvy legs poking out from the bottom make my cock wake up instantly.

“Who is it?” I ask when the light from her screen illuminates her in the dark room.

“Unknown. They’ve called five times in thirty minutes.” Dread settles in my belly the second she says that. Nothing good comes from that many midnight phone calls.

She stares at it for another second before the buzzing starts again.

“Answer it,” I say when she looks like she’s going to ignore it.

“H-hello?” she asks after lifting it to her ear.