The Gingerbread Bakery (Dream Harbor, #5)(83)

His cock pressed against the delicate skin of her stomach and, if she kept kissing his neck like that, he was afraid that little preview might be all she got tonight after all.

‘Get on the bed.’ He didn’t recognize his own voice. Who was this man who made demands like that? But he wanted Annie like nothing he’d ever wanted, and this felt like his last chance. Like if he didn’t convince her tonight, he’d have to give her up forever.

By whatever miracle was working in his favor this weekend, she did get on the bed and the sight of her there nearly killed him. She practically shimmered in the moonlight coming in through his window. She was like a dream.

He crawled on top of her, needing to feel her skin on his, needing to know she wasn't a dream. Not anymore. This time she was real.

He kissed her. Every inch, every gorgeous expanse of skin. He kissed and licked and bit until Annie was squirming underneath him, writhing in his bed sheets.

She kissed him back, her nails scratching tracks on his back, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

He looked down at her and every memory, every moment, every regret tumbled together. He had loved this woman for most of his life. He’d known her for nearly all of it. And he knew he wanted to be with her for the rest of it.

‘Annie, I…’

‘Don’t,’ she said, like she knew a confession, one last declaration, was coming. ‘We still have half an hour,’ she said, glancing at the clock. It was eleven-thirty. Another half hour and it would be tomorrow, the day she’d promised they would finally talk.

‘I still have thirty minutes,’ she said, giving his shoulder a shove. He laid back on the mattress and let her climb on top of him straddling his waist. She was watching him like she was expecting him to stop her, but nothing could stop this.

‘Condoms are in the bedside table drawer,’ he said, and Annie smiled. She reached over and grabbed one out of the top drawer, tearing the little packet open with her teeth. He hissed as she slid it over his length, her fingers on him an exquisite torture.

She notched his cock at her entrance pausing to look at him with those blue eyes one more time and then she took him one inch at a time. So slowly time stood still until she was fully seated, and Mac’s breath was caught in his throat.

‘Holy shit,’ Annie gasped, leaning forward, her hands braced on his shoulders. He held tight to her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as they both adjusted to the intensity of the moment.

‘Look at me, Annie,’ he said, and she opened her eyes.

They were flipped from the last time they did this. It felt like the entire world had flipped since then, but this thing between them still felt more right than anything Mac had ever felt. And, by the way Annie was looking at him, she felt it too.

Tears had gathered in her eyes, and he reached up to brush them away.

‘Go ahead, darling,’ he said. ‘Fuck me like you hate me.’

Annie shook her head and whispered, ‘But I don't hate you.’

She leaned down and kissed him slow and deep, her hips mimicking the motion and Mac was lost. Lost to the world. Lost to everything except this. Annie had found him again.

They stayed like that for a long time, kissing and rocking with him inside her and her little moans filling the room, fucking like they didn’t hate each other at all. When it all became too much, she picked up the pace, grinding against him, chasing her pleasure.

Her blue-eyed gaze held his as she came, the cries racking her body and his name like a chant from her lips.





Annie collapsed onto Mac’s chest, her breath sawing in and out of her. She could feel his racing heart beneath her cheek.

He was running his hands up and down her sides and murmuring sweet words against the top of her head. If this was supposed to have been hate-sex, they had done something very wrong. But who was she kidding? Of course she didn’t hate him. That had been the problem all along, hadn’t it?

Mac rolled them so he was on top of her, and she realized he was still hard inside of her. He kissed her gently on her lips and cheeks, down the side of her neck.

‘You okay?’ he murmured.

The best Annie could do was a contented little humming sound. She could feel Mac’s grin on her neck.

He thrust his hips, and a spark of pleasure shot through her, aftershocks from that earthquake of an orgasm.

‘You know that shady little motel the kids used to party at outside of town?’ he asked, still kissing her, her collar bones, her shoulders.

‘Yeah?’ Why on earth would he be bringing that place up now?

‘That’s where I spent most of that year away.’

‘Mac, what are you talking about?’

He looked up, meeting her eyes. ‘I only traveled for the first couple of months, and then I got overwhelmed and sort of freaked out and I spent the rest of the time in that motel. Too afraid to come home and too afraid to go anywhere else.’

Annie stared at him speechless, her legs still wrapped around his waist, her fingers still trailing along the muscles of his back.

‘You weren’t wrong about me, Annie. I was in love with you. I wanted to come home to you, but I felt like too big of a loser to do it.’

‘Mac.’ She breathed his name, feelings she’d kept at bay for years threatening to tumble out of her.

‘After that, I did travel for real, and it was amazing, and good for me. I wasn’t lying about that. But three years ago, I was in town visiting my parents and I saw you through the window of the café and that’s when I decided to move home for good.’