Finding A Way (22 page)

“1969 Ford Mustang Fastback,” he answers, studying my every move. I can see something primal in his eyes while he watches me lean against his prized possession. His eyes are dark and his nostrils flare slightly.

“She’s beautiful.”

I stare into his eyes, licking my dry lips. His eyes get darker. He steps toward me, the intensity making me swallow a lump in my throat. My breathing increases and I watch him. The wonder of what he will do next adamant. The way he stalks toward me is like a caged animal experiencing freedom for the first time. His expression conveys he's hungry and I’m the only meal for miles.

He steps in front of me, his hands finding my ass. He gives it a squeeze before picking me up and gently placing me on the hood.

I feel the desire pooling between my thighs. One of his hands stays planted on my ass as the other slides up my body slowly caressing every inch. His fingers slide up the side of my neck, reaching into the hair behind my ear. My heart pounds in my chest while the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in anticipation. My mind races through a thousand scenarios of how this will end, but all I can concentrate on is the way Mac’s eyes never leave mine. The way he looks at me sends shivers through my spine. Lowering his mouth so it’s hovering above mine, he whispers, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering around at full force.

“Not as beautiful as you, Callie.”

I shiver from the chills his voice sends throughout my entire body. I try to speak, but instead I stay silent. He stares directly into my eyes, never looking away once. I know I should stop this, but I can't. I can't find it in my heart to push this amazing man away from me.

“I would kill to bend you over the hood of this fucking car. Fast and hard, that’s how I’d give it to you, and I can tell by the way your body is shaking under my touch, that you want it too. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself. Just tell me it’s okay, Callie. Tell me it’s okay to undress you. That it’s okay to kiss every inch of your beautiful fucking body, and I will, sweetheart.”

I swallow hard, willing the words to fall out my mouth. I want to tell this sexy and rugged man he can have me, but the words don’t come. Instead, he takes it upon himself to lower his mouth to mine. Slowly at first, his lips touch mine. Then his kiss speeds up and his tongue runs a path over my lips, seeking permission to enter. I moan against him, which he takes as the acceptance he wanted, and darts into my mouth. He tastes of nicotine and mint and it’s a delicious combination. My hands find his hair and tug on the longer strands. He rewards me with a groan laced with satisfaction as I deepen the kiss, pulling him closer to my body. His hand grips my ass tightly, tilting me so I can feel his erection pressing against my stomach. My head spins from the feeling of his hands and his mouth on me. My head is working overtime right now. I pull away, gasping to catch a breath. His mouth moves down my neck just as words tumble from my lips.

“Mac, stop. Please. I can’t. We can’t. Just, please. Stop.”

He ceases all movement, pulling back, and watching me with hooded eyes. I put my hands on his chest, willing him to take a step back from me. I regain my composure feeling anxious under his heavy stare. I need to apologize for letting him get close, but my head is so foggy that instead, I tilt my head down staring into my lap. It’s deafening. Normally, I enjoy the silence between us, but this time it’s different. Everything just changed. He knows it, and so do I. We crossed the line and now there's nowhere to run.

“Callie, why are you trying to stop this?” he questions in a voice louder than normal, attempting to maintain his composure in this moment, failing miserably. He digs a smoke from his pocket. “You know you feel this between us. You can’t deny it. So, don’t even try to.”

I blink rapidly trying to rationalize his words. I didn’t know he felt like this. I mean, I know we had a connection, but he made it clear the first day he isn’t interested in a relationship. Did I miss the signs? Did I lead him on? This can’t happen between us.

“Mac, it’s not you—”

He cuts me off by letting out an unsettling laugh. I watch him take another drag from his smoke. His chest puffs, and his nostrils flare. Instead of these actions being filled with want and need, they are filled with anger and hurt.

“Really? You’re going to use that line on me, Callie? You know damn well I’m not crazy. I’ve held you in my arms almost every day for the past week. I told you about my past. I fucking let you in. You didn’t seem to mind me then. I guess I should’ve known. I should’ve known a girl like you wouldn't want a guy like me. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking,” he snarls.

I don’t like this side of him. It’s not the Mac I’ve grown to care for. This is someone entirely different standing in front of me. Someone full of insecurities and anger. I hop down from his car, walking up to him, and poke him in the chest hard with my finger.

“Listen to me Malcolm Davis; you don’t get to make me feel like shit! You don’t get to do that! I won’t be another notch in your bedpost, and that’s all you want from me. This…” I motion between us, “will never work! So don’t you dare go putting the blame on me. I didn’t do this! Whatever you made up in that head of yours about me and you is not my fault!”

"What I've made up in my head? Please. Everything that is happening in my head is because of you. You put the thoughts in my head, and the feelings in my heart Callie, and you knew you were fucking doing it. Don't play the victim here because you're not.

“I’d give you the fucking world if you’d let me, but you won’t even give me the fucking chance because you’re too hung up on the fucking ghost who sleeps in your bed at night!” His laugh goes cruel again. He shakes his head at me, finishing his rant. “So, don’t try to spin this on me because for once, it’s not my fucking fault. This is all you, sweetheart.”

I stare at him, feeling his words like a slap in the face. How could he accuse me of making him feel this way? How could he say any of those things, and mean them? He makes my head spin.

I stare at him, anger bubbling inside me like a boiling pot of water. That’s it. His ass is mine. I’m going to give him everything I’ve got, and he will not like it one bit. I may be tiny and fragile in his eyes, but I’m not. I’m strong and my inner badass is about to come out and fuck Malcolm Davis’s world up.

"What is wrong with you? How can you think it's okay to talk to me, to anyone like that?" I scream at him.

I take a quick breath, staring daggers into him.
Who does this guy think he is?
I see his lips turn upright into a sly smile, and it sends me over the edge.

“I don’t know who raised you to be so damn disrespectful, but I can tell you it isn’t welcome here! I left all of the negativity in my life back in Pennsylvania, Mac! I come here to start over and you plow into my life like a bulldozer! You didn’t once ask me if this is what I wanted. You assumed this is what I wanted. You only thought about yourself in this equation. Never once was I a part of it!”

I see his eyes widen, and the stupid smirk he was wearing seconds ago turns into a scowl. I catch my breath, ready to continue when he cuts me off in a matter of seconds.

Smoke blows from his lips and his stare hits me hard at the things I just said.

"You want to know what's wrong with me, Callie? You are everything that is fucking wrong with me. You are so hell bent on me being like every other asshole out there you won't even give me the fucking time of the day. So, don’t stand there and spit that negativity bullshit at me! I’ve been nothing but nice to you even though you’ve been stringing me along while you ’found yourself’. I played along with your little 'let's be friends' game long enough. It’s hard to
not
be disrespectful to the person who’s been fucking with your head non-stop for days. I can't fucking do it anymore, Callie. I won't fucking do it for another day. The fact you can stand there and say I never took your feelings into consideration is insane! I’ve done nothing but take you into consideration! I knew you were trying to start over, and because of that I gave you the space you fucking wanted, but I’m done. I’m feeling some fucked up way about you, and I can’t fucking stand it! I can’t fucking stand what you do to me. You’re fucking ripping me apart!"

Tears form in my eyes, roll down my cheeks, and land on the concrete floor at my feet. I try to hide them, but it’s no use. Malcolm Davis is the devil. He is an evil, ruthless man, and I hate him. His words cut through my heart like a knife slices through paper—easily, without hesitation.

Mac watches me cry. He steps toward me, reaching his hand out to wipe them away. His eyes soften and he takes my chin in between his thumb and his forefinger, urging me to look right at him.

“I’m sorry. I really fucking am. Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have said that shit.”

His apology clouds my anger, but I still don’t want him anywhere near me. I don’t want him touching me, and I sure as hell don’t want him apologizing. I cannot let him win. He can’t just make it all go away with a half-ass apology.

“I’m sorry Callie. This isn’t going to work. I thought it would. I thought I could have a friendship with you, if anything at all. But I can’t. Look what I’m doing to you and I’ve known you for seven fucking days. You’re fucking crying. You should never cry, especially because of me.”

I give him a sad look, sniffling to myself quietly. He’s right. This will not work. You can’t have a friendship with two people who feel the pull to each other we do. It will only end badly. Mac leans down, placing a soft kiss on top of my lips, and I instantly forget why the hell I was mad in the first place. His kisses are what I’ve dreamed about. They are the perfect mixture of heaven and hell, and I’m a sinner begging for him to take me under his tainted wing.

He pulls me into his arms and my head buries in his chest for the last time. I cry against his black t-shirt, knowing it’s all for the best. We will never work. I doubted it before, but I will never doubt it again. He has broken the heart I never even planned on giving to him.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll take you home. This shit is no good for either of us. You’re right, it was me, baby. It was always me. I’m sorry Callie.” He places a gentle kiss in my hair for what feels like the last time.

The ride home is eerily quiet. How is it possible to lose something you never really had in the first place? The only thing which makes noise is Red Hot Chili Pepper’s “Otherside” coming from the stereo. He obviously likes them, since I know for a fact this isn’t on the radio. The CD was blasting during the drive to garage.

I dissect Mac and I in my head, keeping my line of sight directed toward the passenger side window. The last thing I want to do is look at him. I’m mad at him for the things he said, but I’m mad at myself, too. I let him see right through me, and he did so. He saw me, the real me. The unfiltered version few people have met.

Mac pulls up to the curb by my apartment and shuts off his truck. Neither of us speak to one another. I turn to look at him, seeing his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. He looks like he’s in pain, but I’m going to guess the only pain he’s feeling is the migraine I more than likely gave him.

“Thanks for the ride,” I breathe, holding back the tears threating to spill any minute. He blows out a breath, turning to face me. He looks over my face, and his hard expression softens.

“You’re welcome.”

“Goodbye, Mac.”

“Bye Callie,” he replies.

I reach for the door handle, open it and hop out. I shut the door and don’t look back. I make my way into the apartment. Sierra is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching reruns of
Friends
. She hears me shut the front door and turns, smiling cheerfully.

“Callie! How was your—”

She stops when she sees the tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. They started the minute I shut the door of Mac’s truck. I didn’t want him to see them. These tears are not for him. They are for me and me alone. I’m crying because I broke my own heart. Mac did nothing. I let myself get attached to him and I pushed him away.

She hops up from the couch, running as quickly as her feet can carry her. She pulls me into her arms, her touch comforting me immediately.

“Callie, what’s wrong?” she asks compassionately, rubbing my back. I sob into her shoulder, letting out the emotion which is barreling through the floodgates.

In between sobs, I manage to get out words.