Molly McAdams - Needing Her

“Come here,” I commanded gently and pulled her up to me so I could kiss her lips, which were still swollen from the rough sex we’d had earlier.

There was still a line from where I’d bitten down a little too rough on her bottom lip, and I ran my thumb over it. She quickly bit down on the tip of my thumb and grinned.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I tried to assure her.

“You didn’t,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t even feel it. I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t noticed the blood.” Her face fell and she brought a hand up to cup my face. “Connor, I swear, it didn’t hurt. To be honest, it was really hot.”

But I’d made her bleed. I fucking hated that. All I’d been able to think about in those first few seconds of seeing the blood on her lip was what if next time, it wasn’t during rough sex? I opened my mouth to respond, when loud banging came from my door.

Maci and I both froze, and her eyes got massive when we heard the voices.

“Get out here, you pussy! Let’s go get a beer!”

She was off me and scrambling to find her clothes so fast that she stumbled into my dresser, and hissed a string of curses as she started to dress. I’d just grabbed a pair of jeans and was stepping into them when the banging got louder and they started up again.

“We’re busting down your door if you’re not out here in ten seconds! Ten, nine . . .”

I grabbed Maci’s face, and kissed her hard. If they found out tonight, so be it. But I would really rather it not happen this way. Not when their little sister looked like we’d just had a night like we had. The lamp was broken on my bedroom floor; her shirt—­that she’d given up trying to put on before grabbing one of my own—­would never be able to be worn again; the handle of my bedroom door had put a dent in the wall; the comforter and sheets were on the floor; and the headboard to my bed wasn’t even up against the wall anymore.

“. . . six, five . . .”

“Don’t let them back here,” she pleaded and walked toward my closet.

“. . . four, three . . .”

I finished buttoning up my pants, shut my bedroom door, and tried to stay silent as I ran to the door.

“. . . two, one! You asked for it, Green! We’re coming in!”

I swung open the door and saw Dylan, backed up, his leg raised in the air like he’d been getting ready to kick down my door.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” I hissed, and stood in the doorway.

“What took you so long?” Dakota asked and pushed past me, quickly followed by Dylan. “It’s Friday, let’s go out.”

“Uh . . .”

“Man, you look like shit,” Dylan said on a laugh and dropped onto my couch.

The same couch that just earlier, I’d started literally tearing Maci’s clothes off her.

“What’s wrong with you? Not going to say anything?”

I tore my eyes from the couch and looked at Dakota. “I’m exhausted. I went in Thursday morning and didn’t get back until a few minutes ago.” Or a ­couple hours. “I had just started falling asleep when you came beating on my door.”

“Ah, shit man, I’m sorry,” Dakota said with a sympathetic look before throwing his arms out. “Sorry you turned into such a bitch. Get ready, we’re going out.”

“Why are you breathing so hard?” Dylan asked suddenly, and I had to force my body not to stiffen.

“I woke up to you bastards yelling and hitting my door. I thought someone was breaking in and I was going to have to shoot someone. So I have a shit ton of adrenaline coursing through my body right now.”

“Boo-­fucking-­hoo. Are you coming out with us or not?”

“Not. Dakota, I told you, I’m fucking exhausted.” At least that was true. “I’ll go out with you tomorrow night.”

“Fine, fine. But get some damn sleep, because I’m holding you to that.” He stood and Dylan followed. “Maybe Maci wants to go out with us, I’d bet she brings Amber with her.”

Oh shit.

“Oh fuck yeah, let’s go talk to her.”

“She’s not there,” I said suddenly and tried to school my expression when they turned back around.

“What do you mean? Her car’s in her spot,” Dylan walked toward the front door, and I thought of anything that would make sense right now without me looking suspicious.

“Yeah, she was getting in Amber’s car when I got home. From the way they were dressed, they’re probably not hitting the bars around here tonight.”

“Fuck, if she comes back with a guy, you better fucking call us.”

I just nodded and walked toward my door.

“I’m serious.”

“I hear you, Dylan. If I hear a guy in her apartment, I’ll let you know.”

“All right, see you tomorrow. Seven sound good?”

I nodded and pounded my fist against Dakota’s. “Yeah, see you both then.”

Dylan punched my arm as he walked out my door. “Get some sleep so you’re not such a pussy tomorrow.”

“Well, if you’d leave, I would!”

As soon as the door was shut, I locked it and went over to the window to watch Dakota’s truck. Once they took off out of the parking lot, I practically ran back to my bedroom and flung open the closet door.

Maci launched herself at me, and crushed her mouth to mine.

“Please tell me Amber won’t be at the bar tonight,” I begged against her lips.

“No, no. She got called into the hospital before you even got home.”

“Thank God,” I breathed and kissed her again, stopping when I finally noticed her body. “Why are you shaking, sweetheart?”

“I just—­I thought—­I . . . fuck,” she cried, and her head hit my bare chest as a sob tore from her throat.

“Maci, no . . . don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” Holding her close, I walked us over to my askew bed, and sat down with her in my lap.

“I thought they were going to find out. They can’t find out,” she said between strained sobs. “They’ll make us stop seeing each other.”

“No they won’t.” I didn’t even believe what I was saying.

“Yes they will, you know they will. You heard them just then, they wanted you to tell them if I brought someone home tonight. You’ve seen how they always act.”

“It’s not their decision if I see you or not. Just because that prick you were seeing would have listened to them doesn’t mean I will.”

“They’ll make you stop, Connor!”

I shook my head and grabbed her chin, waiting for her to look up at me. “There’s always a choice, Maci. They can tell me to stop, but like I said, that doesn’t mean I will.”

Her gray eyes stared at me as more tears fell down her face, and I brushed my thumb against her cheeks with the hand that wasn’t holding her to me. I hated seeing her cry, but something deep inside me was happy that she would get this upset over us not being together.

I turned and laid her down in my bed, and brushed my lips across her cheek as a lone tear slipped down. Bringing my hands to the pants she was wearing, I pulled them off her, and let them fall to the floor. Sliding my hands up her waist, and underneath my shirt, I unclasped her bra, and worked at getting it off through the shirt before leaving it on the floor as well. I kissed her gently and took my time looking at her like this in my bed. Nothing but my shirt and her underwear. Fucking perfect.

Walking over to my dresser, I took off my jeans and pulled on a pair of loose sweats before grabbing my comforter and crawling onto the bed. Once we were both covered, I turned her body so she was facing me, and pulled her close.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to start crying.”

“Don’t be.” Pressing my lips to her forehead, I held her body tight as the last of her shaking stopped. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

I was exhausted from being up for so long, and from a case Sanders and I had just finished—­and was physically exhausted from the hours with Maci before her brothers had shown up. Sleep came quick, but the last thought on my mind was how I understood her completely. I was terrified of losing Maci, but I knew that regardless of her brothers, I someday would.

Connor

WAKING UP TO Maci in my arms was rapidly becoming one of my favorite things. The hard exterior she always wore from being raised in a house with only brothers was gone. Other than the few times I’d seen her cry, this was the only time when her guard was completely down, and I loved seeing her like this. But every morning I woke with her was a blaring reminder that I was one more morning closer to losing her.

My body was sticky from having been covered in a thin sheen of sweat when I’d woken thirty minutes ago, and like I was every morning, I was thankful I didn’t act out my nightmares. Maci would always still be asleep in my arms when I jolted awake, and only tried to move closer to me when my frantic breathing changed the quiet and calm air between us. But after making sure she hadn’t been hurt, I always crawled out of the bed and away from her to try to calm myself from the too-­real scenarios my dreams played out.

Pushing her wild hair from her face, I grimaced and my heart rate sped up as I was assaulted with images from the latest nightmare. My hands around Maci’s throat. Her hands clawing at my arm as she struggled to breathe. Her face bruised, and blood dripping rapidly from her hairline. Her arms covered in varying stages of bruising.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and moved my hand away from her to cover my face as I pushed away the dream. I kept reminding myself over and over that she was fine, that I hadn’t touched her . . . but it didn’t take away the fear that one day it could be real.

I can’t do this to her. I can’t do this.