Chapter 25 - Ceaselessly
Harm's POV
Never was I the kind of man to arrive early. 'Make em wait' was one of the dumbest lessons I ever learned from the idiots in the Academy who thought they knew everything about girls. Sure, it got me into plenty of women's beds but Mac isn't just any woman.
Which was why I spent an hour sitting in the car staring up at her apartment window and twenty minutes stalking outside the door to her building like some sort of creep.
I was anxious, enough that I had to run to my car when I forgot the flowers I bought her, my response to the ones she left me this morning.
It was odd to see Harriet standing at my doorway holding a vase of pretty yellow roses with red tips. She seemed amused when I assumed she brought them to me mistakenly. "Oh no, sir. The envelope specifically says your name...Secret admirer?"
There was a card in the envelope. The words written in Mac's own hand left a simple message: 'Dinner. My place - 2100. Love, S.'
I knew I was grinning like an idiot. I knew I was blushing too because Harriet's smile widened as did her curiosity. "Seeing someone, sir?"
"Possibly. We'll see...Dismissed Lieutenant." When she left I stared out through the glass windows that seperated mine and Mac's offices. Hers was dark, a testament she was still not cleared for duty. It was a sight I grew weary of because I missed my partner.
I missed glancing up at the window which separates us to catch her looking. Sometimes she'd smile, other times I imagine her blushing. I miss the delicate scent of her perfume that lingers in the hallway, my office and even improves the stagnant smell of a courtroom.
I'm still surprised that a woman sent me flowers. I've never been given flowers. A girl isn't supposed to send a guy flowers, is she? I spent the day looking at them, seeing the dew form on the petals, frowning when one fell and fluttered onto my desk.
I buckled the vase into my passenger's seat, holding it each time I took a turn to ensure they would arrive at my apartment where I placed them on the kitchen island. Such pretty roses; yellow with red tips which, according to Yahoo! is a symbol of friendship turning into love. And oh, am I in love.
I passed them at least a dozen times while I dressed, finally deciding on dark blue jeans and a baby blue dress shirt with several buttons undone. I tossed on a leather blazer as I headed out of my loft and prayed the flower shop near her apartment was still open.
I'm nervous when I knock on her door and it takes her longer to answer than usual. But when I poise my knuckles to knock again she appears as if out of a dream. Mac stands at her open doorway wearing a red dress and a smile that takes my breath away.
And it's not just any red dress but the kind that hugs her in all the right places, swooshes down the way pretty dresses do that swooshing thing. It stops slightly below mid thigh and my brain turns to utter mush when I take sight of those long, toned legs. Christ, she's beautiful, so so beautiful and I'm the fool that ignored the feelings ruminating in me instead of pursuing her soon.
"Hi." She says and steps back so that I can enter.
"Hi." I parrot back and then swallow hard in an effort to find my voice. "Uh, hello...Hi."
Mac closes the door and turns to face me, she glances down at the flowers I'm holding and raises a brow expectantly. "Oh these are for you."
I stupidly extend my hand out feeling like an idiot for not bringing her roses. Two dozen, three dozen because the way she looks deserves more than just the wildflowers I brought her.
"These are beautiful." She says and my brain kickstarts when she takes the bouquet and hugs them to her chest. "Thank you. I adore purple vervain."
Vervain? Of course Mac would know what they were, I just picked them because of the pretty colours. Why does it make me feel so proud? The little facts she keeps in that beautiful mind of hers, nuggets of knowledge that keeps me on my toes. I love that about her, that intelligence that is natural and sexy.
She ruffles some of the buds and then motions to the kitchen. "You can relax, I'll go put these in water. Dinner won't be ready for a bit."
I follow her like a lovesick puppy and watch as she bends to grab the vase under the sink. I make quick work of tearing open the wrapper along with the little packet of powder that helps preserve the blooms that she eventually fluffs.
We stand on opposite sides, each leaning against a counter and a thick, odd tension fills the space between us. "I uh, it smells great." I say trying to break the ice and failing miserably because all Mac does is stare at a spot on her floor.
Shit. My mind fills with images of the last few months and the broken woman that went to such dark places she believed breaking my heart would save me. I'm scared that my Mac will never return despite the ongoing therapy that helped put together the broken pieces.
For some reason it feels like I've never been here before although I've spent many nights simply laying by her side without physical intimacy as per request. I know that sex often complicates relationships and maybe that was part of our initial downfall - the emotions from Paraguay that were far too raw when we became lovers.
She asked for space and I reluctantly agreed, thankful that, at least, Mac would call to check in. Even with her telephone calls and updates I hadn't expected the profound sense of loneliness that led me to my own dark spots. As stupid as it sounds, I was jealous of Dr. Ogden and whatever details they spoke about that I wasn't privy to. Therapy was a process I never quite understood and I wondered if there was a timeline, a specific date for this to end.
Mac smoothes the skirt of her dress and my eyes hone in on that simple movement. She's nervous. I'm nervous because I don't want to misinterpret any signal. That wasn't the kind of outfit a woman wore just because. It was new, so was her hair, her nails, all things a woman did to impress a man.
And she does impress me.
Her skin looks healthier. The weight she lost has come back and filled out all of the right spots of her body. Then there's her eyes, the flecks of amber that seem to glow when her gaze catches mine and her cheeks tint a lovely shade of pink. "You look lovely, Sarah."
"It's new. I hope you like it."
"I don't mean the dress. It's you." She smiles nervously and I feel as if I've overstepped some sort of boundary. That scares me because it must have been hell for her to get here and choose to let me back in. "Mac, if this is too fast I can go. We have all the time in the World."
A year. A voice mocks in my head. She wanted a year although I really hoped that wouldn't happen, it just might. I didn't want to wait, not when I knew what it was like to be with her. I love her, isn't that enough?
"We're not moving too fast, not with the nights you spent here." Mac says and then her eyes lock onto mine. Those beautiful eyes take on a light I hadn't seen in months. They're curious and hopeful, brightening as she smiles in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. "I've missed you more than you know."
It's her smile - Mac's smile. Not the tersecurving of her lips from a woman that was gripped in darkness and grief for too long. It's also my smile because I know she's never gifted it to any other man. Not Dalton, not Chris, not Farrow and certainly not Mic.
It's a smile she wears for me and when Mac licks her lips to moisten them it's all I could do to not completely ravage her.
"I love you." She says in a voice that's soft and vulnerable. A beautiful shade of pink tints her cheeks and she is that more sexy and adorable and I fall for her all over again. "I think I loved you from the moment we met."
"I wish I could say the same. It took me a little longer."
Because I was an idiot. Because I was scared. Because I held on to an old flame for far too long. Because flying, work, significant others and my own pride. It took her almost dying in some strange country for me to realize what I really felt for her. "I'm sorry about the past, Mac. I'm sorry I didn't understand what I felt for you."
Her hand wraps around my forearm, the delicate fingers making me feel a peace that has been missing since the day she left for Paraguay. "But you love me now. You're in love with me."
"Ceaselessly."
When we kiss it happens in slow motion, her lips meeting mine, my arms wrapping around her body, her arms around my neck. Our bodies are meant to fit together, like those missing pieces of a puzzle that once placed correctly, completes the whole picture. There's a soft mew from the back of her throat and as my lips move with hers I taste the strawberry sweetness that makes me sigh.
It's the sweep of her tongue across my lower lip that states her intentions and when we stop kissing her mouth is wonderfully swollen and plump. Dear God I love this woman.
"I thought you wanted to wait a year?" I tease with my forehead against hers and I'm gifted with that carefree smile I've missed so badly.
"A year?" She seems confused and then laughs when it all clicks in. Her nose rubs against mine and her lips linger but don't kiss me again. There's this delicious kind of tension building between us now and when she eases back I instantly miss the way her body was pressed against mine. "I don't want to wait anymore. I love you. I want you now, today...Forever."
She takes my hand, fingers threading through mine to pull me through her apartment. She leads, I follow, letting her guide me because I'm afraid to move too fast.
Our kisses aren't gentle this time simply an ardent response of two people that can no longer stay apart. My fingers find the zipper tab at the back of her dress and I capture her breath between my lips when my knuckles deliberately slide against her bare skin.
Each sound of the zipper breaking free is exciting and my constrained erection pushes against her belly seeking to be sheathed in her warm depths.
Shaky palms, mine, run up her spine as I start to recall the first night we spent together.
Impossible odds brought us to that tiny bed in Paraguay with emotions too raw for our coupling but I loved her nonetheless. I'll always love her.
"Make love to me, Harm. I'm ready." She is and the hesitation from before drops away with each stitch of clothing that hits the floor.
I notice, for the first time, the candles all over her room. Their warm glow casting shadows across her naked body as if showing me where to touch, kiss and love. For once neither of us are running away from anything. For once it's just about us.
And when she opens her arms and urges me to join her, the passion we share is immeasurable.