Her mouth opens to a pretty little ‘O,’ and McKenna nods before she looks away to swipe at her tears. “I guess you do understand.”
I nod. “You know how many families I visited when my time in the Marines was over? How many mothers, sisters, widows, and other family members I had to hand last letters to? That shit eats you up inside, and you will always carry a piece of them with you. At least I do.”
McKenna’s hazel eyes blink rapidly, and I feel my heart rate increase because clearly, my words haven’t helped her at all.
“That’s the part I can’t get over. Every time I think of Grace, I’ll be so damn sad instead of remembering all the fun times we had together.”
Her tears come faster and faster with every blink until her entire body shakes with sobs and grief. “How could they do this to her?”
I hate seeing a woman cry, and this time it’s not just hysterics, it’s fucking grief, and I know that feeling all too well.
“It’s all right, McKenna, just let it out.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, letting her cry until she’s all cried out.
“Just let it all out. Yeah, that’s it.” I rub circles on her back with one hand and hook the other around her waist because I hope the heat of my body, the steadiness of my heartbeat will soothe her and ease her pain.
She pulls back, those innocent hazel eyes staring at me full of grief.
“Thank you, Mark.” Her words come out soft, gentle, and sad, and when she pushes up to touch her lips to mine, a fire ignites between us.
The kiss is even better than the first. It’s hot and intense and so raw with emotion that it’s irresistible. Her lips are soft and plump, her kisses needy, almost begging me to kiss her the way a girl like her deserves to be kissed. I do just that.
Wrapping my arms tight around her until our bodies are flush, I tilt McKenna back to find the perfect angle to devour her sweet mouth, her succulent lips. Her hands grip my shoulders and slide down to my biceps, gripping them as if my body is all that’s keeping her from floating away.
It’s the kind of kiss that should happen after a really great date, not while two almost strangers are going through the belongings of a girl gone too soon.
McKenna pulls back, but she doesn’t kick me out, and she doesn’t pretend to be the offended virgin this time, which I take as a win. She puts her fingertips to her lips as if she can still feel my kiss and looks up at me with shock burning her hazel eyes.
“You’ve had a lot of loss?”
“More than I care to think about. More than any one person should.”
She nods as if she understands. I don’t know if she does, but I know the loss of Grace will stick with her forever.
“I’m sorry for all the friends you’ve lost, Mark.”
It kills me when she calls me by my real name. How can such a plain name, a simple name, sound so good?
“Thank you, McKenna. I’m sorry you lost your best friend.”
She smiles. “Me too. Will it ever stop hurting?”
“Nope,” I assure her with a shrug. “I wish I could tell you differently, but I don’t wanna lie to you.”
McKenna sighs. “Nothing helps with the grief. Not booze, not sleep, and not junk food. I’ve put on ten pounds since Grace died.”
“It looks good on you.”
Her face turns an adorable shade of pink, and I smile. “I know one thing helps me forget the pain, but this isn’t the time or the place.”
Her gaze heats with knowledge. “You mean sex?”
“I do. Feeling something other than the hurt, even for a little while, is the only thing I know of that helps and that’s only a bit.”
And if McKenna doesn’t mind getting down and dirty with a biker, I’ll happily take away her grief and pain for an hour or two.
She flashes a wistful smile and nods. “Maybe later. For now, I think we should look for clues.”
Clues. Right. Grace’s murder. “Where should we start?”
“She lived alone, so details could be anywhere. Her mom did say that Grace inherited her bad taste in men if that helps.”
“It doesn’t. Plenty of men are bad men, McKenna.”
“I know that,” she stammers and slams her eyes shut. “I just mean that maybe she kept his identity a secret because she was ashamed of following her mother’s path and not because of anything I said.”
“Maybe he didn’t matter,” I tell her and go through the papers stacked on a stylish modern coffee table. “Maybe he was just some good dick, and that’s why she didn’t say anything to you. Or maybe she just wanted to see what they might become before sharing her relationship with anyone else.”