I want to get up. I really do, but the switch in my brain that makes me functional has short- circuited. Mack and his demanding voice has me all fucked up.
He looks at me like I’ve grown three heads, and already I feel like I’m dangerously close to letting Real Alex slip through the cracks.
Which I can’t do.
“Get the fuck up,” he seethes, taking a step closer to me.
I scramble to my feet, swallowing hard as I adjust my aching cock. Our eyes meet, and he leans in closer. As badly as I want to ask if I did good, I won’t.
I can’t ask for shit from Mack. This, whatever this is between us, it’s delicate. Probably the most delicate thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Maybe it’s the alcohol.
Maybe it’s the fact I’m surrounded by all the things I’m never going to have.
Maybe it’s because Jordan somehow hacked my subspace without me realizing it.
The walls dropped for a fraction of a moment, and Real Alex broke through.
Jordan doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, just keeps staring at me like he can’t decide if he wants to punch me or kiss me. So I make the decision for us both, consequences be damned.
I lean in and kiss him because it’s what I need. I need to feel his soft lips, his warm tongue. I need to feel what words can’t convey. I need to feel his heartbeat beneath my palm.
I need to be grounded so I don’t get lost…
My tense muscles loosen, and I unravel just the slightest for him. My breath catches, my stomach swirls withanxiety and panic. My eyes feel the beginning of tears on the edge of sanity.
Push me over the edge, Mackenzie.
Please…
Mack kisses me back, and I can fucking breathe, but it lasts seconds at most, because he shoves me away. He pushes me away, and he leaves me standing there, hard, on the verge of breaking.
And alone.
So fucking alone.
Even though he’s still standing right there, at the sink, avoiding his own reflection.
I’ve never felt more alone in my life.
I came so close to letting him see me, but I can’t do that. I fucking can’t.
So I adjust my stupid cock and promise myself I won’t let him get that close again.
Next time I’ll be better. I’ll have more control. I won’t allow myself to be so weak.
Mack glances up at me as I come to stand next to him. He doesn’t say anything, and that pisses me off. There’s no point in saying something because he won’t care—because he doesn’t care.
“Wait two minutes before you follow me,” he gripes, and I scoff as he unlocks the door and pulls it open.
With all the emotion swirling in me, and those bitchy, needy, little pieces of me clamoring to make themselvesknown, I push it all down and lunge toward him, grabbing his arm and making him face me. The shock on his face is clear. I glare up at him, noting the darkness that’s returned to his gaze.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I snap.
I shove him aside, catching him off guard, and he stumbles into the wall. I leave without a word, my steps full of purpose, my heart full of anguish.
What the fuck are you doing, Alex?
