Cassidy closed her eyes; it wasn’t what she’d wanted.
The office chair was ergonomic, purchased with the assumption that the owner would be sitting in it for hours on end, and he had. It was a high-backed mesh with a cushioned head, no arms because Elijah hadn’t wanted to feel hemmed in, with a curved back. Mac adjusted it for his height, being taller than Elijah had been, and got to work.
Cassidy listened to the steady clicking of the keys on the keyboard, and her heart lurched. God, that sound created by another human being in this room, and with the same purpose and speed, struck every emotional chord. She had no clue what a software developer did, but she supposed she imagined a lot of mouse work, like a video game.
He quickly lost himself in what he was doing. That was familiar to her, too. It didn’t offend her. She understood that part of the working process, to fall into what he was doing, to concentrate on such a level that he ate the sandwich she handed him out of habit. She wasn’t needy on that level, that when Elijah’s attention turned inward, she needed to draw him out.
It was another reason why they’d worked so well; she never resented his hours and days when she was more of a ghost for him, and his characters were his companions.
The familiarity was comforting, even though the man was different. It should have felt wrong or awkward, but it didn’t. Her eyes slid from her book to Fred, who had his chin resting on his paws, his eyes closed. It didn’t feel odd to him, either.
Raising her eyes to the picture to the right of Mac’s head, she silently asked her husband what it meant; that Mac seemed to fit, that he belonged.
Or was she making it all up? Because Mac would walk out and never look back if he’d known those thoughts were in her head.
Chapter forty-nine
Mac
IMPULSE CONTROL
Macclosedthelaptop;“soon” turned out to be a couple of hours. He glanced down at Fred, snoozing beside the chair. Mac wasn’t fooled; the dog was alert. As though to prove him right, when he shifted in his seat, tossing the glasses on the desk, the brown eyes opened and lifted, waiting to see if Mac’s activity was worth the effort to move.
Mac shifted to look at Cassidy. He wondered if he should seek psychiatric help for being turned on by her sleeping form. Of course, two things there: shrinks hadn’t helped him with his fucked-up brain, and his attraction to her wasn’t limited to when she slept. She’d passed him in the hall at the bar not too long ago, and it’d taken all of his willpower not to shove her against the wall and fuck her.
His impulse control, he decided, was phenomenal.
She’d slid down in the chair, head resting on the white arm, her book on the chair next to her, probably no longer on the page she’d last read. She was still curled up. Was she uncomfortable? She’d seemed uncomfortable on the patio those few weeks back; maybe she was accustomed to this, maybe this had been their ritual.
Mac faced forward again, taking in the picture above him. Her first and only family photo; it wasn’t a stretch to figure out it was a celebratory photo of pregnancy news. They both glowed with sheer joy, the placement of Elijah’s hands.
They’d have been a beautiful family.
Perfect.
Shaking his head, Mac looked down at Fred again. She deserved that. And he knew she wasn’t going to get it with him.
Leaning down, he turned on the computer.
The more he was around her, the more he found he just wanted her naked. Not a good thing to become too dependent on one woman. On Day.
She had a way about her, pulling him in, deeper than he wanted to go.
Fuck, they were skirting the lines of commitment as it was; he almost toppled right on over on the boat, giving her what she wanted. Those fucking eyes of hers, the way she looked at him, compelling him to give her what she wanted even though he knew it was wrong of him.
Again, his impulse control was impeccable.
The screen flashed on. Password protected. He narrowed his eyes and typed in the name of her boat, hoping for her sake it didn’t work. It didn’t. But for him to do what she’d asked, he’d have to wake her.
She’d given him permission once to wake her in any manner he saw fit; wondered if that still held true. She hadn’t rescinded it. They weren’t in a bad place despite her earlier mood. His cock jumped at the many thoughts springing to his imagination on how to wake her.
Moving beside her, he knelt, admiring her face. Her eyes were closed. Smiling, he took his time perusing her, noting with satisfaction she wasn’t as thin as she’d been when they’d first met. He’d like a few more pounds on her, but her cheeks were no longer slightly indented, and her clothes were fitting better. She was stunning, this woman.
Reaching out, he traced her lips. She tucked them in and mumbled, licking them. It about undid him. She was about to find her legs ripped apart and woken up by his cock spearing into her.
Again, control.
“Day,” he said sharply. He caressed her cheek with his knuckle.