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Leaning back against the counter, Bari took in Mackenzie’s kitchen. The white counters gleamed under the soft light, and reflections danced through the air as their shadows bounced off of the
stainless steel appliances. The kitchen cabinets wrapped around the western walls in an elbow shape, and marking the center stood a silver sink. Bari could actually picture Mackenzie, in his mind, standing at that sink and watching Byron playing outside through the large window lining that wall. If one were to turn while standing at that sink, one would immediately see the large kitchen island that stood as a focal point in the middle of the room.
Bari watched as she moved around with confidence and ease. As Mackenzie finished with the coffee, Bari took the mug from her hands and wrapped his palm around the smooth surface. Mackenzie turned to him, leaning against the counter, and took a sip, watching him over the rim
of her cup. There were so many things to say, so many things he wanted to explain; yet now, when he wanted to talk, Bari found he was at a loss for words. Nothing would come so instead he watched as she brought her mug down from her lips and swiped her tongue across the dark pink skin. Bari followed the motion of her tongue, entranced with the urge to taste her lips. It was strong, one he had to tamp down. As much as he wanted it, this wasn’t the time.
He promised himself he wouldn’t seduce her, made a silent promise to Mackenzie he wouldn’t hurt her again. He saw the hurt hovering in her eyes and accepted he had been the bastard who put it there. Goddammit.
You’re such a good little Samaritan.
“He’s beautiful, Mac.”
Mackenzie nodded. “Yes. He’s my world.”
“He has your hair.”
“But it’s your color.”
“Is it?” Bari paused, tilted his head in thought. “His eyes…”
“They’re my father’s.”
Mackenzie glanced up, her mouth gaped open in shock. “I thought your dad’s eyes were brown?”
Bari shook his head. “Not my adoptive father’s, Mac. My birth father. He had the same gun-metal gray eyes.”
"I can’t begin to understand what’s going through your mind right now. What I can understand is that you probably have about a million and one questions, Mac. While I may not be one who is used to others asking so much of me, I’m willing to give you your chance to ask what you need to and will remain completely honest with you on what I can and cannot handle." That brought another thing to mind. "In fact, Mac, if there is anything I do that you can't handle, you just say the word. We clear?"
“What if I’d rather not talk about the past, Bari?”
He drew his brows down, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Then what do you want to discuss, Mac?”
Mackenzie studied him for a few moments, her mug sitting between her hands and the ticking of a clock the only sound. Hell, he had been through classes to evade interrogations with torture and yet a look, silence, and her eyes had him squirming.
You’re bad ass, bro.
Very slowly, very deliberately Mackenzie set down her mug and turned toward him, stepping forward and right up against his body. His hand holding the mug was pushed aside by hers and guided to the counter before she leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips, feather soft, over his.
Mackenzie held his hand at the counter, curling her fingers around his as an electric current pulsed through them both.
Shock and pure, unadulterated lust pooled deep in his gut. Bari sucked in a sharp breath at the first press of her lips and shook with the amount of force it was taking to hold him back as she paused and waited for his reaction. Fuck—this was all he dreamed of for years but now felt unsure of how much to push. His mind pinged off about a dozen warning bells. Watching her response carefully, he brushed his lips on Mackenzie’s, tempting, enticing her to part her lips, and she did. His tongue darted out, licking the seam of her lips slowly, tasting her. He heard Mackenzie’s breath catch, felt her lips part on a sigh and took advantage, plunging his tongue
deep inside her mouth. Her taste assailed him, gripped him, and entranced him to continue. He kept the kiss slow and cautious, not wanting to push her, and gave in to the temptation she offered: a sweet sip of Mackenzie Walters.
His tongue guided over hers, caressed and curled around it. He leaned in to her, pulling his hand from the mug, and palmed her face, deepening the kiss, unable to get enough of her. Something primitive took over. Something deep inside craved her more than should be possible. He was a drowning man in a sea full of water. So damn thirsty.
Mackenzie moaned, and Bari swallowed it with his mouth, answered with a low growl. His hands left her face, guided down the length of her neck before rolling across her shoulders and down her back. He wanted to mold her, wanted to trace and learn every curve, every dip of her
body with his hands before retracing it all with his mouth. He wanted so much, yet not enough, to give and take, to conquer and plunge.
Dropping his hands to her slender waist, he curved them over her enticing rear and squeezed her body tight to his as he rose from the stool he was sitting on at the center island. His cock strained in his pants, begging to be set free.
Down, boy. is hips rolled, the action intentionally slow, and as another groan escaped her, he caught it with his mouth. Lifting up, he palmed her rear and turned, setting her on the counter as he stepped between her legs. She tasted of heaven and home, of apple and spices, of the
sea and sky; so many different flavors, all identified to that of his Mackenzie. His muscles coiled tight, his need hammering nails in the coffin of his restraint.
Mackenzie broke her mouth from his with a gasp, and she groaned as his mouth trailed down her neck, nipping and suckling. The sound was as sweet as sugar would be on his tongue.
“Bari, don’t hold back.”
An answering growl, a labored groan. Bari’s hands hooked under her thighs and pulled her closer as he bent her body back on the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist and curled her body to his like someone hanging on for their life. His mouth came back up to hers,
and as he captured her lips, he heard a tortured sigh.
“Mackenzie.” The sigh came from him.
Dishes clattered as he swiped them across the counter. Bari hovered above Mackenzie, his hands roaming with frantic movements before he dipped his hand beneath her shirt to seek skin. Under his palm she was so damn soft, like velvet, so warm to his touch. Warmth he yearned for on a cold night. He wanted to brand and possess her. The surge of it shocked him. Bari pulled back and stared down at her. Heavy-lidded eyes stared up at him, unblinking and heavy with anticipation. His hand paused just under the swell of her breast, and his fingers moved back and forth in a teasing caress, just barely brushing the sensitive skin.
“Mackenzie, I’m not going to be able to stop until you tell me to. You understand?” His voice sounded thick, guttural.
She answered by raising her head and pulling him down to her seeking lips. Heat pooled low in his stomach as his hips rolled against hers, eliciting a gasp as he rubbed right against her sex.
His hand brushed under her bra, wrapped around her breast. She felt like heaven, silk, sweet temptation. Mackenzie moaned into his mouth and pressed her hips up to meet his in a primal movement as old as time, mimicking the movements of his tongue in her mouth with her body.
Mackenzie’s entire body went rigid at the sound of Byron’s voice.