Breathe Me In

He stripped off the well-used condom, stuffed it in a little trash bag he kept on the floor, and zipped up. She finished her own task, pushed her hair away from her face with both hands, and finally the two of them sat still, staring forward, just breathing.

“Wow?” he said at last, making it a question.

She laughed, and he relaxed. “Wow. Really. Wow.”

Her left hand rested on the seat between them, pale in the darkness. He inched his toward it and twined his fingers with hers. Her gaze shifted down to their joined hands, where her skin was clear and lovely and his was mottled with black ink. The question she asked then was the last thing he expected. “Do you ever give yourself tattoos?”

Chuckling, he nodded. “All the time. You know, if you want something done right…”

“Good point.”

Silence descended again. He wasn’t comfortable in silence, and usually it wasn’t a problem for him to come up with stupid shit to talk about. But the intensity of what had just transpired here had him desperately racking his addled brain for something, anything. Something to keep her here. He wasn’t ready to part ways yet; he wanted to spend the night with her, take her back to his place, or back to hers. He opened his mouth to ask the first thing that came out of it, whatever it might be, but she beat him to the punch.

“Um…could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, okay. Absolutely.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

Okay. Sure. Nope, there was no blade sticking out of his chest. He knew, because he checked. And because goddammit, it felt like it.

She rushed on to try to soften the blow of her words, but he was deaf to all of it. Something about drama, and Candace, and whatever the fuck. He even managed to say all the right words back to make her feel better, apparently, because she finally sighed in seeming contentment, leaning her head against the seat.

“God, what time is it?”

And that sounded like a lead-in to goodbye. Shit.

“Close to two, I would think.”

“I’ve really got to go.”

But don’t you wanna…can’t you just…ugh, shut up, dumbass.

“I kept you out past your bedtime again.”

“It’s all right.” She gave him a smile, just a slight curving of her lips, holding his gaze with her sleepy one. “I had a great time. Obviously.”

Her shy little laugh then nearly undid him. He was f**king idiot for even thinking it, but yes, he wanted to see that sleepy smile in the morning. He wanted to hang on to her all night. Instead, she would go home, probably go to sleep, and he would be wired for the rest of the night. He wasn’t the roll-over-and-crash kinda guy. Great sex was more likely to amp him up than wind him down.

But he doubted a girl like Macy was looking for the clingy dipshit he was trying to be. So he returned her smile, lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. Savored the feel of her skin under his lips for as long as he dared. Again racking his mind for something to say. In the end, he could only say what he meant. “You took my breath away.”

You took my breath away.

It was probably the sweetest thing a man had ever said to her. Who would have thought?

Macy drew a shaking breath as she steered into her apartment complex. Ten hours ago she’d vowed to never let anyone hurt her again, never be where her best friend was ever again. Ever. And here she was, still trembling in the aftermath of the best sex she’d ever had and wishing the future promised more of it. But it couldn’t.

Sex for the sake of sex had never really been her style, but it wasn’t as if she’d never done it before. She’d handled it well, not getting attached, only getting caught up in the fun of it. As she’d expected, the spark had burnt out fast. She’d gone her way, he’d gone his, no harm, no foul. Only fond memories.

But damn.

Damn.

She’d have more than fond memories from this. She feared she’d compare all future encounters to that one. Hoping someone, somewhere, someday, could make her feel what he just had. A guy whose real name she didn’t even know—who apparently didn’t want her to know.

Why not? Was he hiding something? Ugh. What had she done?

Nothing. She’d done absolutely nothing except have a good time. That was all. No sense romanticizing this. She’d thrown caution to the wind for the first time since her accident. It was good for her. She’d gifted herself with a memory to savor for years to come. She’d taken a shot. She’d…

Hell. She’d had, like, four screaming orgasms. That never happened to her.

Now, for once, Macy wished she could go to her friends with this, talk it out and get some perspective. But it occurred to her that lately her and her friends’ perspectives were worlds apart, and it wouldn’t do any good to go to them because she wouldn’t agree with them anyway.

Sam would tell her to go for it. Candace would too. Nope, that wasn’t a conversation worth having. She’d asked Ghost to keep this to himself so she couldn’t very well tell everyone. Hopefully that hadn’t offended him. Macy simply didn’t want Brian to know, because…well, because it was embarrassing. Then Candace would know once she and Brian inevitably reconciled. Then Macy would never hear the end of it.

So she would ride this out, and hope by morning it would all seem like a really hot dream.

No such luck.

Not the next morning, when she could practically still feel him inside her, and not for many mornings after the ache faded. Ghost was still at the front of her mind, and that was the most frightening thing of all. Whether at home, at work or hanging out at her parents’ ranch, the little chime of an incoming text message could make her heart lurch. He only texted occasionally though, almost as if nothing had happened, as if they were still carrying on their flirting. He didn’t call her. She had to sit on her hands sometimes to keep from calling him.

Then the totally expected call finally came: not Ghost, but Candace trilling and gushing over her reunion with Brian. Her parents had finally eased their stance and reined Jameson in, which made Macy want to collapse in relief. Not just because she was off the hook, either. Hearing Candace happy again was like the first sunny day after weeks of nothing but storm clouds.

“I’m so happy for you. Seriously,” she told her friend, and did her best to infuse her voice with that enthusiasm as she flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you really? I mean, I know how you feel—”

“No. I’m truly happy. To hear you like this instead of all gloom-and-doom? Girl. I’m thrilled.”

Candace laughed merrily. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that. What you think does matter to me, you know. Whether I take your advice or not.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t give much of a damn about what I think,” Macy said, trying to keep the words lighthearted but hearing a pathetic tone of self-loathing she couldn’t do a thing about. Who the hell was she to give advice anymore?

“Okay. Something is wrong with you. I haven’t wanted to ask because I knew you wouldn’t tell me anyway. I’ve been so wrapped up in me and my problems, and I’m sorry about that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Now that you’ve gotten that out of the way, go ahead and give me the real answer.”

“Nothing! Really. I’ve been worried about all this mess with Jameson and now it seems to be over, so…that’s great. Things can get back to normal.”

“Maybe we can start working on you now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you’d told me you and Ghost had been seeing each other.”

“We’re not seeing each other. We’re friends.” With one night of screaming, clawing, biting benefits.

“You can move beyond that, you know.”

“Not if you have no inclination to do so.”

“Come on! After the way you were carrying on when you admitted you were with him when you saw Jameson at Dermamania? You said there was something about him.”

“There is. I’m not going to be with every guy I think there’s ‘something about’.” Now she was being dishonest with her friend again, and after the misery they’d all just gone through, she didn’t want to go there. “Just forget about all that; he’s cool but it’s not gonna happen. What’s the plan with Brian?”

“I can’t even believe how this worked out. We’ve been making up for lost time.” She gave a low chuckle.

“I bet.”

“And I’m probably going to spend the weekend at his place. I might never go back home.”

Macy opened her mouth to tell her friend not to move in with him so soon, then promptly closed it again. It was going to be hard to learn her new place—she was always the one doling out sensible advice, but Candace didn’t need it, and Macy no longer felt like the sensible one anyway. She’d been judgmental, hypocritical, dishonest. Jesus. And the thing she’d done a few nights ago to help her feel better? It only made her feel worse now. Because she’d dragged someone else into her shame spiral, and he didn’t even know it. Neither did he deserve it.

But if she kept seeing him, she was going to fall for him. And she couldn’t.

“You guys need your alone time,” she said instead of lecturing her friend.

“I’m going to let him pierce my belly button.”

“Candace!”

Okay, so it was going to be even harder to learn her new place than she thought.

Chapter Seven

He didn’t know what he’d done or said wrong, but his last few text messages to Macy had gone unanswered. Okay. Whatever. She’d seemed a little sparse in her replies before now but he’d chalked it up to her being on-call for her grieving friend…but now Candace and Brian were back together and inspiring nausea and cavities all over the place. So she should be feeling a hell of a lot better…he knew he was, and so was the rest of the staff at Dermamania. Brian could be a drag when he was down, and until a few days ago the dude had been more down than Ghost had ever seen him.

No more, though. He had a spring in his step. Bastard.

But Ghost was tired of bullshitting around. He didn’t go for games; he’d had an ex who’d thought herself a master at them and he’d shown her a thing or two. Once that relationship was over and done with, he’d vowed not to play anymore.

Macy. He liked the girl. He wanted to see her again. With one simple request—don’t tell anyone about this—she’d taken all hope of that and dashed it on the f**king rocks, it seemed.

But he wanted to hear it from her. And not in a text message.

In a break between clients, he stepped out the back door—where Starla was taking her smoke break. She exhaled a stream and cocked an eyebrow at him. “The f**k are you doing back here?”

Glancing down, he kicked at the accumulation of old cigarette butts littering the ground. “Least you could do is clean this shit up. You’re the only one who comes back here anymore.”

She flipped him off with a black-and-white tipped finger and he moved around the corner of the building to his car.