No Longer Lost: Secrets Of Stone: Book Nine Page 13

  “I agree. Sooooo…”

  I took a big breath before rattling off a bunch of options. By the time I got done, especially now that I could see his energetic reactions to each new suggestion, I was beyond excited and nearly bouncing in my seat.

  Okay, maybe not “nearly.”

  As I did about my tenth happy dance, fists pumping and head swinging, I looked up to find Mac simply staring at me. A half-eaten piece of toast dangled from his fingers while a half-loopy smirk teased at his lips. Great. He was so damn gorgeous like that, I swore I’d never look at another piece of toast the same way again.

  “What?” Still, I was immediately self-conscious. I couldn’t interpret this new look of his, and it was damned unnerving.

  “I swear, if there weren’t other people here, I’d fuck you on this table.”

  And there’s where he was going with things. “Mac.” I blushed and didn’t even hide it.

  “What?” he countered. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re this excited and happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much pure joy in another human.” He growled, and the sound vibrated straight to my pussy. “It’s addicting, is all. You’re addicting, Taylor Mathews.”

  “Oh…” was all I could manage. The look on his face was so intense, my heartbeat stuttered.

  But the spell was broken when the waiter came to refill our drink glasses. He didn’t notice, or maybe just didn’t care, that we were in the middle of thoroughly eye fucking each other. “Is everything to your liking?” he asked with a droll sneer.

  “Yes, thank you.” I smiled, confident my cheeks were red as a drunk Santa by this point. But this giddiness didn’t have a thing to do with booze. It was all the intoxication of Maclain Stone—who took my breath away with a new grin as the server walked away.

  “So,” he said. “Parasailing it is, then?”

  “Really?” My excitement picked right back up where it had been when I finished reading the list. “You would do that?”

  “Sure. Why not? When we’re done here, let’s walk down to the shack on the beach and make reservations. Maybe we’ll have enough time for a quickie before they take us out.” He casually took a drink from his glass.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a sex maniac.”

  “And there’s something wrong with that…why?”

  “There are rehab groups for that, you know.” I said the whole sentence while smearing butter on the most delicious-looking blueberry muffin, never taking my eyes off the task—so when he swept in his large hand and suddenly captured my wrist, I dropped my knife with a startled yip. The clatter of the silver against the white stoneware caused a few of the other resort guests to turn and see what had caused the commotion, though they turned away once Mac got busy again.

  Oh, yeah.

  Very busy.

  He leaned across the table as far as he could without leaving his seat, which with his large frame was nearly halfway, and said in a very low rumble, “If wanting to fuck you every second of my day is an illness, I never want to be cured. Ever.” He turned my wrist over, once more lifting it to his mouth. To anyone else, he was delivering a kiss on the inside of my wrist—but it was actually a bite, so long and hard and deep that I had to stifle a moan behind my free hand.

  Mac lavished the mark with his warm tongue before releasing me. All I could do was stare at him, my mouth slightly parted, eyes drooping with arousal. He was slowly killing me with his passion. I had no idea a person could die this way, but it was definitely happening.

  One incident at a time, I was falling in deeper.

  One heartbeat at a time, he was winning me over.

  One day at a time, I was becoming more and more…

  His.

  God help me.

  Chapter Eight

  Mac

  One by one, we ticked off every item on Taylor’s list. We swam with dolphins, snorkeled, parasailed, and even learned how to make our own sushi. I think I’d leave that to the professionals moving forward, but it was fun giving it a try. Indulging my beautiful girl and every single whim she dreamed up was becoming my second favorite pastime. Top billing would forever be making her scream my name while I was balls deep inside her heat.

  Fuck, yeah.

  Forever number one.

  Every day we spent together, I learned something new about her. I’d dated models and managers and more than my fair share of doctors too, but she was easily the most fascinating person I’d ever known. Her curiosity and intelligence were so pure and sincere, it was a secret treasure not many were privileged enough to experience. She made me unreasonably happy, but I wasn’t about to question or pick apart the feeling. For once in my life, I just wanted to accept it all at face value for what it really was. For what she really was.

  My destiny.

  I was supremely giddy about seeing parts of her that very few did. I would venture to guess, albeit cockily, that there wasn’t another guy out there who’d unlocked what I had. She was a woman who took time. Patience. Insight. Most morons out there likely ran out of one, let alone all three, once they found out she was more complicated than her gorgeous face and possessed a huge heart inside that sexy, creamy body.

  But I was in this for the long haul. I took the time to find things out about her, dig deeper where the assholes just gave up. But when I saw her little threads hanging loose, I had to pull and see what I could unravel. Best of all, I was never disappointed. It was more than just all the movies we liked, the places we wanted to see, and our sick sense of humor when people-watching throughout our adventures. It came down to intrinsic shit about her humanity, like the way she carefully thought about all sides of an issue before making judgment and her kindness to everyone we met, no matter what their station in life. From local kids to housekeepers to vacationing magnates, nobody was better or worse in her view, and they all fell in love with her for it.

  But none of them as deeply as me.

  And still, I craved to learn more. To discover more. There was so much hidden beneath the surface of this woman, an entire lifetime wouldn’t be enough to uncover it all. But I wanted to try. Damn it, I wanted that lifetime.

  Yeah. I just said that.

  I wanted to spend my life with her.

  But first, I still needed to hear her say she loved me.

  So many moments—fuck, so many—when I sensed the words were right there on her lips. When she’d been so damn close. But then she’d shake herself free of some thrall in which she kept imagining I had her and recall them back into the depths of herself. The places I hadn’t yet uncovered in her. The places where the little girl in her still existed, alone and let down and wounded—and vowing never to be hurt like that again.

  In a word, I was stuck. I didn’t know what else she needed from me at this point, other than time. But I could give her that too. I’d give her whatever she needed. I was hooked on this woman like a user on crack. She wasn’t joking when she said I needed rehab. I’d never had it this bad for a woman.

  About the eighth day of our trip, we were lying by the pool after she had given me a mind-blowing suck on our private balcony, and my cell phone rang. I hadn’t heard that annoying sound in almost a week and hadn’t missed it in the least. I almost let the fucker go to voicemail, since Taylor was looking fine enough in her bikini for me to consider an early retreat back to the room, but when I recognized a San Diego prefix, I decided to pick up.

  “Maclain Stone.” My tone was curt as usual.

  “Hey, Mac. It’s Killian.”

  “Uhhh…hey, Kil.” I shrugged when Taylor shot me a curious stare. My cousin was the last person I’d expected on the other end of the line.

  “Sorry to bother you on your vacation.”

  “It’s all good.” I made an effort to sound a bit warmer. He had, after all, been the one to sign off on Taylor dropping everything at work to do the Dominican with me. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

  “I
’m guessing Taylor is there with you?”

  Gruff snort. “You remember saying she could come with me, right?”

  “I mean right there with you.” His tone was a mix of affection and tension. I’d never really gotten the strange nuance, but Taylor was teaching me to read more subtleties in people, so I rolled with it. “I was hoping you could put me on speaker. This really involves her.”

  “Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

  The line went rough with his harsh exhalation. “I. Just. Did.”

  I gestured for Taylor to scoot closer while setting the phone on the little table between our two lounge chairs. After pressing the icon to put the call on speaker, I called out to Killian, “Okay, you’ve got us both.”

  “Good day, Mr. Stone,” Taylor respectfully intoned. I just rolled my eyes. The almighty Killian always got the formal treatment. Whatever.

  “Taylor, please, call me Killian. You’re practically family.”

  Double eye roll for his ass-kissing response.

  “Hey, Taylor.” Claire’s gentle voice joined the conversation.

  “Hey, Mama!” Taylor brightened at once, her voice filling with the warmth she reserved for her sister-close girlfriends. “How you doing? And how’s my gorgeous baby girl?”

  “Regan’s fine. Little crazy girl, cruising around like she owns the place.” Claire laughed.

  “I love it! You’re in so much trouble now,” Taylor teased.

  “You have no idea,” Killian mumbled. Fatherhood suited him. Secretly, I envied the bastard even more.

  “So what’s this all about? I can’t imagine you called us in the DR to talk about your daughter’s milestones.”

  Taylor smacked my chest with the back of her hand, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. My dry tone seemed like a buzzkill, even to my own ears. Still, I glared for good measure. Taylor glared right back. She’d definitely be getting a swat of her own for that later. I held up one finger to let her know I was counting. She just rolled her eyes, and I added a second finger. Her response was a proud single finger of her own. Beautiful brat.

  “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” Killian huffed. “Taylor, your apartment was broken into and vandalized last night.”

  Taylor sat up straighter. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m so sorry, honey.” Claire’s sympathy was underlined by the sound of a giggling child.

  Kil jumped back in. “San Diego Police called us here, since this is your place of employment. And with your next of kin being, well—”

  “Janet,” Taylor supplied when he hesitated. “And useless.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to say that, but okay,” Killian finished.

  “Why would someone want to break into my apartment? I literally have nothing that matters. Mac won’t even sit on my sofa, it’s that old. This doesn’t make sense.” She stopped, sensing the tension from the other end of the line at the same moment I did. “What?” She loomed closer over the phone. “Come on, you two. What gives?”

  Kil cleared his throat with purpose. “Apparently it wasn’t really theft,” he finally relayed. “It was more—”

  “Personal.” Claire completed the play this time.

  “Shit,” I growled beneath my breath.

  “Do you have any idea who may have an ax to grind with you?” Claire questioned. “I mean, you and Mac have been seeing each other for quite a while now, but there were…uummm…some things written on your walls.”

  “Shit.” I took no pains to mute the word now.

  “Written?” Taylor pressed. “On my walls?”

  Killian took his turn at bat again. “I’m not going to candy-coat this, Taylor. They were pretty insulting things.”

  Taylor’s face had gone ghostly white. She’d picked up a nice bit of sun on our holiday, but in the course of this one phone call, the color was totally gone. “For fuck’s sake. Just spit it out. What did that motherfucker write on my wall? I know who did it. And when I see him again, I’m going to rip his tiny little dick off and shove it down his throat.”

  “Okay, so she’s taking this better than I thought.” Killian’s tone left no room for guessing how sensitive the conversation was about to get. “Mac? Can you pick up the phone, buddy?”

  I held the phone to my ear and held Taylor’s trembling hand with my other hand.

  “Hi.”

  “So you know who it was?” he asked.

  “We have a pretty good idea, yeah,” I answered quietly.

  “He wrote some pretty graphic stuff. Whoever it is, he’s one sick fucker. And I don’t mean like you and me sick. I mean like, he-should-be-in-prison sick,” Killian supplied.

  “Hey, speak for yourself, man. I’m not sick in any form of the word.” I laughed, trying to make light of a horrible situation.

  “When are you coming back?”

  He didn’t sugarcoat that inflection, either. The intention was crystal clear. Vacation time was over.

  “Apparently on the next flight we can arrange,” I answered, attempting to disguise my disappointment.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can help.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve got a jet.”

  Now I was the one rolling my eyes. “Oh, yeah. How could I forget?”

  “The plane is in Chicago right now. Margaux’s there, along with Claire’s father. The saga of Andrea Asher continues. The woman is making both their lives a complete hell, but when I spoke to her last, there wasn’t a lot more they could do to help the authorities. She told me they were planning on coming home. I’m sure they won’t mind rerouting to grab the two of you.”

  I abandoned the eye roll. Even felt a little guilty about it now. “Shit. That’s one hell of a detour, man.” To be honest, I was even bordering on uncomfortable. That was a lot of people changing their plans just for us. “Seriously, I can call the airline, and—”

  “The fuck you’ll call the airline,” he retorted.

  “Kil—”

  “You’re family, Mac. It’s time we both started acting like it. So shut up.” He said it as though it were as good as done. “Margaux and Colin will be happy to make the change, given the circumstances. I’ll let the crew know to make the necessary arrangements and will call or text with the details.”

  Again, he left no room for argument. He clicked off, and the line was dead before I could say thank you or goodbye.

  I set my phone down. Shoved it and the table out of the way. I reached over, attempting to yank Taylor over to my chaise and into my arms, but she resisted with equal force.

  “Hey.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Come here. This is crazy shit. Let me hold you for a second.”

  “I’ve been through ‘crazy shit’ before, Mac. And I don’t need to be held through it. I’m not a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one. Who said it was for your benefit?” I pulled her toward me again. This time she let me, although I still wouldn’t say it was with enthusiasm. Or even compliance. She was begrudging at best, but I refused to let her get away with it. “Goddamnit, Taylor. Don’t put a wall up between us because of that fuckstick. Not after the amazing week we’ve had.” I said the last of it into her hair, rubbing my cheek against the side of her head.

  “I’m sorry.” Finally, her voice cracked. Her shoulder shook. “I’m just so…sorry. Everything’s ruined.” She sniffed hard and finally, finally, burrowed into my neck. I hated that it had taken this horror to make her crack this far open for me, but part of me surged and swelled with hope. And she thought she was the fucked-up lost one?

  “Only if you let it be.” I held her tighter. Funneled every particle of my courage and strength into her, around her. As much as she would take. As much as she’d give me the blessing to give. “Don’t let him win, damn it.”

  She leaned back, letting me see the rage and frustration twisting across her face. “Ho
w can you say that? Only if I let it? He was in my apartment! My fucking home, Mac!”

  Jesus. I was a sick fuck. Here came the fireworks I had expected—and perhaps even needed. The vulnerability I craved from her. The reality and honesty.

  “I know, honey.” I gathered her back against me. “I know.”

  She started shaking with rage, and I couldn’t blame her. I let her indulge as much of the emotion as she needed until she calmed herself with a huge breath in.

  Eventually she asked, “What’s the plan now? I mean, what are we doing? Was that what you and Killian were talking about?” She pushed away and lurched up before starting to pace back and forth. “Are we going home? I don’t want to go there now. But what about my stuff? My clothing and my stuff?” She stopped, slamming a hand to her forehead. “My chessboard!” she wailed. “Oh, fuck. Did he ruin it? Do you know? Did Mr. St—Killian—did he say anything about it? And where am I supposed to go now? I can’t afford another security deposit. I’ll never get that one back with writing on the walls. Oh, my God! This is a fucking nightmare, and he’s a fucking bastard. Are the police looking for him? We’re going to have to tell them now, Mac. There’s no other choice.”

  She was rambling a mile a minute. I thought about cutting in…for about half a second. She needed to get this out, and I let her. When anyone around us gave her the stink eye for her rant, I stabbed them with a dirtier glower in return.

  Finally, after thoroughly running herself out, she stopped and just looked at me.

  “Fucking say something!” she shouted.

  I rose slowly. Kept my arms at my sides, neutralizing my stance. “First of all, remember I’m on your side, Sassy. Yell to me all you want, but don’t yell at me.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re upset. I am too.” I did the calm-head-in-a-crisis thing for a living. Those skills kicked in naturally, just as hers did to freak out. “Killian is sending his jet to pick us up here. He said he’s going to give me more details as soon as he has them. That’s all I can tell you on that end. We should probably get back to the room, pack up, and then be somewhat ready to go. Since the police are already involved, we need to tell them everything we know.”