The Audio Book

Summary: Harm and Mac listen to an audiobook and it sparks something in Harm. (Y'all, this is essentially smut. And the smuttiest thing I've ever written. Be warned.)

Notes: I'm not sure where this came from, but I guess months of writing Mac/Other and Harm/Mac Angst just caught up with me. Also, the italicized book excepts come from Christina Lauren's book 'My Favorite Half Night Stand'.

She's trying to kill me.

Sarah MacKenzie is trying to kill me.

It started with a simple enough request.

"Do you mind if I listen to an audiobook while we drive? I have my book club in a couple of days and at this rate I'm never going to finish."

I hadn't minded. For the most part, she has decent taste in books and we enjoy a lot of the same authors. She's a big fan of the classics, but she also loves Tom Clancy and Stephen King. She'll read non-fiction if it's about a person, but has no desire to read about an event or a thing. She's never been a fan of those bodice ripping romance novels that Renee enjoyed, or those popular books about wizards and magic that Bud is really into.

So, I didn't hesitate when she requested to listen to her book. If I had the ability to go back in time, I would do three things: my father wouldn't have flown on Christmas Eve 1969, I wouldn't have crashed (the first time), and I would have told her no, and put the radio on a classic rock station we both like.

The book started out okay. It was light & fun, and even though it would most definitely be considered women's fiction, I found myself enjoying it. But now the two characters are flirting and I'm getting uncomfortable.

'Speaking through the pressurized air in my throat, I say, "What are you doing?" "Seducing you." She lifts one hand and draws a pinky down the side of her face, pulling away a strand of auburn hair. "Is it working?"'

I sneak a glance at Mac, and I find myself annoyed at her complete lack of a response. She's got her shoes off and is sitting cross-legged in her seat. One of her hands is resting on one of her knees, and the other is picking through a giant vat of 'trail mix' (let's be honest - it's m&ms, peanut butter chips, tiny peanut butter cup, and a minuscule amount of salty peanuts). How can she eat at a time like this?

I glance down at my own lap, and let out a soft sigh. I typically don't wear jeans on a long car trip, but I'm thanking every deity I can think of that I did today. The thick denim is doing an adequate job of hiding my erection. I loosen my grip on the wheel and reach for the bottle of water in the cup holder. I take a long swig and find a bit of relief in the cool liquid. I think it would be more effective if it were dumped in my lap, but I have to take what I can get.

'One finger is tucked into my belt loop and her lips are hovering near my chin, skirting along my jaw. It's decision time. All I have to do is tilt my face down to her, and we'll be kissing. I'm already getting hard, and the question whether this is a great or disastrous decision is growing cloudier.'

Goddamnit. I sneak another glance at my partner. My beautiful, desirable partner. I've fantasized about her in showers and on desks, in cockpits and in my bed. I've imagined her on all fours with my hands on her hips and my cock buried deep within her, I've imagined her spread before me while I devour her with my tongue, and make her scream with my fingers. I've imagined her on her knees, sucking me until I'm on the verge of blacking out. I've imagined her in countless different positions and places. I've been fantasizing about this woman for almost six years, but as hard as it is to believe, I've never imagined her undressing me. In my fantasies, we're already naked and ready for each other. I've never pictured her small, capable, pretty fingers on my belt buckle or slowly tugging down a zipper. And now I'm angry at myself for depriving myself of such a delicious visual.

I glance at her hands, and swallow at the sight. Her nails are polished today. She almost never wears nail polish. It's a nice color - the color of red wine. She has lovely fingers. I've never paid that much attention to them before. But now I'm looking at her fingers, and I wish I could watch them undress me. I'd watch her hands undo each button of the pale blue shirt I'm wearing, before moving to my brown leather belt and then the button on my jeans.

I feel myself getting harder, and I try to discretely adjust the air conditioner vents. What the hell am I doing? I can't have these thoughts while she's sitting a foot and a half away from me. For whatever reason, the guy in the book thinks this might be a disastrous decision. I know it would be a disastrous decision. There isn't a doubt in my mind that having sex with my beautiful partner would be the greatest mistake of my life.

So, why do I want to do it so badly?

Her hair is a mess; her mouth is a little swollen from me already. I haven't had sex in months, and I'm momentarily overwhelmed—a starving man at a buffet, unsure where to start.

I take a deep breath. This could be about me. I watch a solitary cow in a field until I pass it, and try to relax.

How long has it been since I've been with a woman? I do the math and wince. Renee was the last one, and that ended about five months ago. Jesus. I haven't been with a woman in five months? I remember when I was younger, and I never went more than a few days without having a woman in my bed. And now it's been nearly half a year. I've had options over the past five months, but I knew those options would come at a cost. I thought of the attractive red head that had approached me while Mac and I were at McMurphy's. We had flirted for a few minutes, and when I turned back to Mac, and my drink, I had noticed the pain written all over her face. I couldn't hurt her by turning to another woman for companionship. I wouldn't do that to her.

I feel myself frown as I think about that night. And the night a few weeks later. And the one a few weeks after that. I think about the beautiful women who have flirted with me, or outright propositioned me, over the past few months. Why did I reject them? Mac isn't my girlfriend. I don't owe her celibacy or singleness. So why? Why does the thought of sadness in her huge brown eyes have me opting for another night alone in my empty apartment?

I swallow and tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

Of course, I know the answer to my question. I can't stand the thought of hurting her or making her sad, because all I want is to make her happy.

I want to make her happy. I want those friendly nights we spend together to end with her in my bed. I want to know what her mouth tastes like and I want to know what her skin feels like. I want her. And I think I always have. I don't know when these feelings started, or when it shifted from lust to... well, to whatever this is. But I want her.

I want her.

Shit.

I bend to kiss her throat, her shoulder, and then I forget what I was saying because she's pulling me down onto the bed, and her nipple is in my mouth and she's stroking me and I probably couldn't remember my own name if asked.

Okay, that's it. I can't take it anymore. I check my mirror, and pull the car over. We're half on the shoulder, half in the very tall grass, and I don't give a damn.

"What the hell, Harm!" She looks at me, her eyes wide. She's not afraid, but she's curious.

I reach for the stereo and turn off her book. I watch her and say nothing.

"Harm?"

I swallow and gesture at the stereo. "Is this not turning you on?" She goes red, and I let out a breath.

"Red li-"

I hold up a hand and cut her off. "Stop it, Mac. We are so far beyond traffic signals." I unbuckle my seat belt and move as close to her as I can, which isn't that close thanks to the center console. Her chest is dramatically rising and falling, and I think I may explode when she licks her lower lip.

"Are you?"

Her voice is strong and confident. She shifts in her own seat and we're facing one another. And now I notice her warm brown eyes have turned nearly black. I move my face down her body, and I nearly salivate when I notice her nipples are hard under the red long-sleeved top she's wearing.

"Are you turned on, Harm?"

I reach for her hand, and slowly move it to my lap. We lock eyes, and I wait a minute, giving her time to pull away, before I place it directly on my erection. I pull my hand away, and watch her, waiting for her to do something. I'm crossing so many lines, and I would completely understand if she pulled her hand back and punched me in the jaw, or told me how completely inappropriate my behavior is.

And then she gently squeezes me, and I think I might pass out.

"Mac, I-"

She keeps her hand on me, and now I'm cursing myself for wearing these jeans. Her hand hasn't left my dick, but is now tentatively moving, and I let out a shuddering breath. I reach for her, and brush my fingers over one of her nipples. Her back immediately arches and she lets out a sound that sounds like a cross between a gasp and a moan. That sound slipping from her lips is one of the sexiest things I've ever heard.

"What are we doing?" My voice comes out as a whisper and isn't nearly as confident as hers was.

She raises and eyebrow. "You tell me." She looks at my lap, where her hand is still teasing me, and then back at my face. "You started this, so you tell me."

I blush and start to pull my hand from her breast. She stops me, and flattens my palm over it. I can't help myself, and give her a gentle squeeze. Her eyes close and her lips part, and I know I can't backtrack or pretend this hasn't happened.

"I started thinking about you. Thinking about how much I wanted you. And I - I just couldn't take it anymore."

She shifts in the seat again. She pulls her hand away from me, and the loss I feel is nearly overwhelming. I'm sure she's going to tell me we need to keep driving and tell me we need to forget this ever happened.

But then she takes my hand and guides me under her skirt. My fingertips graze her thighs, and her skin feels better than I imagined. But then she places my hand at the place I've been fantasizing about for years.

Oh my god.

She's hot and her panties are soaked. We lock eyes again and she pulls her hand away. "Harm, I can't take it anymore either."

I hesitantly move a finger past the flimsy barrier and we both gasp at that first contact. And then just as quickly I pull my hand back. I hate that I'm the cause the confusion and hurt that immediately spreads over her face, and I shake my head. Then I lean in to kiss her.

When I pull back, I smile. "Sorry. I just realized I should have done that first." She blushes, and I'm blown away by how beautiful she is. I want to kiss her again, so I do so. She tastes better than I imagined, and my heart beats a little faster.

And then she pulls back, and pulls her hand from my lap. "We can't do this here."

I take in our surroundings and I feel my face heat. We're still on the side of the road. I had almost forgotten. "You're right." I shift in my seat and start the car. I think about where we had been headed - an apple orchard in Charlottesville. Crowds and people are the last thing I want right now. But I'll do it for her.

"I think there's a bed & breakfast not far from here."

I look at her and swallow. She's nervous - I can hear it in her voice, but I realize how much braver she is than I am. I'm the one that started us down this path, and then I was willing to leave it. But not her. She wants to finish what we've started, and I'm grateful for that. Not for the sex we're about to have, although I am grateful for that, but for not letting this moment slip away like we have so many others.

I nod and once I'm buckled in and have merged back onto the road, I reach for her hand.

We're quiet as we continue driving. I keep her hand in mine, and try to keep my thoughts from racing. I'm not entirely sure we're not making a colossal mistake. We may be. This may be the final part in the ongoing Harm and Mac melodrama.

Or it could be the start of the second act.

I silence the optimistic little voice. I don't know what she wants. And while I know what I want, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for it. She was right, and there was a bed and breakfast about ten minutes down the road. My thoughts continue to race while I park, and we tentatively walk inside. I know that Mac and I wouldn't be just another relationship. And how am I supposed to prepare myself for that?

I smile at the older woman who checks us in. She's my mother's age and has kind eyes. She offers to send someone for our bags, and I blush when I realize we don't have any. I just spent $250 on a room just so I can have sex, and it makes me feel dirty. It makes me feel like I'm cheapening her, and what we could eventually have. Some day. Eventually.

Mac seems to sense that I'm having an inner crisis and thanks the woman but tells her it's not necessary. She easily spins a story about me not feeling well, and how hopefully some rest will help so we can get back on the road. She takes the key and thanks the woman, and reaches for my hand to lead me to the stairs.

Our fingers instinctively twine together, and I let her lead us to our room. It's on the third floor and has a spectacular view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I take in the view for a moment, and try to calm down before I turn back to her. When I do, she's sitting on the bed, watching me with a level of intensity I've never seen before.

"What are we doing, Harm?" Her voice is soft, and I feel something inside me shift. I move to sit next to her, but she stands and backs away. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know."

"Is this just because of the book? Would any woman do right now, or do you actually want me?"

I move to her and put my hands on her face, forcing her to look at me. "You, Mac. I want you. I've always wanted you."

She reaches up to cover my hands with hers and gently pulls them away. Once she's freed herself, she takes a step back. "So why do you look like you're about to walk onto a battlefield with just a water gun for protection?" Her eyes go wet, and she swallows a few times. I know she's trying not to cry, and I hate myself for making her feel this way.

"Doesn't this scare you?"

She frowns. "Doesn't what scare me? Having sex with you? No. I'm actually pretty sure I'll enjoy it."

My traitorous dick begins to harden again, and I feel a bit lightheaded. "Mac, come on. Would it just be sex? Would it just be this afternoon?"

She shrugs and collapses into one of the overstuffed chairs. "What if it is just this afternoon? What if we spend today and tonight and tomorrow morning having sex, and giving into what we both obviously want. Would that be so bad?"

I open my mouth and intend to tell her that no, it wouldn't be bad at all. But then I look at her. Really look at her. And I realize there is no emotion on her face or in her voice. She's closing herself off. Her eyes are empty and her posture is rigid.

She's protecting herself from me, and I hate myself for it. I hate that my inability to let go has brought us to this point.

We're both quiet and I'm filled with a sudden clarity. There are three ways this could go. We could spend the day exploring each other and then tomorrow pretend that this never happened. We'll say we were caught up in the moment and it just happened and it was a mistake that'll never happen again. We could decide not to do this, and check out of this room. We could continue onto to the orchard, where Mac will put me to use grabbing apples from the highest branches, and then she'll buy a dozen apple cider donuts. Or. Or, I could tell her what I really want. I could tell her that I want more than just today. That I want her. I could tell her that I've wanted her for years, but I'm afraid. I could tell her that I'm still afraid, and I'll need to take things slow, and that I'll probably screw up at least a dozen times, but I want her for more than just today.

I know which one it'll be. I think of the way she looked at me in the car. I want her to look at me that way when I'm inside her for the first time. I want that. I go to her, and extend a hand to pull her out of the chair. She lets me pull her up, but doesn't touch me beyond that. I cup her face again and kiss her forehead. Then I drop my forehead to hers and close my eyes.

"I'm scared, Mac. I want you. I always have. But I want it to be more than just today, and I'm terrified. I'm not good at relationships, and I never, ever want to hurt you." She tries to pull away, but I wrap my arms around her and we both stay where we are.

"I'm afraid too." Her voice is soft, and it trembles slightly. "After all, every man I've been with is either dead or wishes they were." I go rigid, and she's able to pull away from me.

"You know I didn't mean that." She doesn't say anything and I swallow. "I was hurt that you kept pushing me away. I was trying to get Sturgis to stop badgering me about you – about us. But I'm so sorry that I said that and that you heard it."

She nods and we stare at each other. Finally, she steps closer to me. She puts a hand on my chest and looks up at me. "I want more than just today too."

She's barely finished speaking when I lower my head and cover her mouth with mine. Her lips instantly part, and I'm able to taste her again. I've kissed dozens of women in my life, but there has never been a kiss like this one. It's not our first kiss, but it's our first one like this. It doesn't come from mistaken identity, or goodbye, or even being caught up in the heat of the moment. It feels sexy and innocent at the same time. It feels brand new, and it feels like we've been doing this our entire lives. It's both everything that I ever imagined it to be, but it's also new and exciting.

My hands move to the hem of her shirt and I slide them underneath. Her skin is unbelievably soft, and I make a plan to someday spend an entire day in bed just lazily touching every single inch of her.

But today is not that day. Right now, I need her more than I need to breathe. She instinctively steps back so I can pull her shirt off, and then she gets to work on mine. I start to curse myself for wearing buttons, but them I remember my thoughts about her fingers in the car, and I try to relax and watch her undo each one. Her olive skin and dark nails are a stark contrast to the pale blue cotton, and it's arousing.

Although let's be honest – everything about this moment is arousing. The navy blue and white striped skirt falling from her hips to the floor is arousing. The simple flesh colored cotton panties and matching bra are arousing. And by the time those items join the rest of her clothes on the floor, I'm as turned on as I've ever been in my life.

But then she moves her hands to my belt, and pulls it off with a flourish. By this point I'm harder than I've ever been, and she's careful when unzipping my jeans. She bends to tug the jeans and my boxers off, and then she's on her knees and has me in her mouth. Apparently just being in her mouth is enough to make me nearly black out, and the moan that fills the room is a sound I can honestly say I've never made before.

My orgasm is building too quickly, and I know I have to make her stop. I put my hands on her head, intending to get her to stop, but she interprets the gesture as wanting more, and takes me in deeper. And I'm done. My hips buck and I try to tell her that I'm about to come, incase she wants to pull back. But instead she puts her hands on my ass, and holds me in place until I've finished.

I stand there for a minute with my eyes closed. "Jesus, Mac." I look down, and my breath catches in my throat. She's still on her knees, and is looking up at me. There is so much to read on her face and in her eyes, that I don't even know where to start.

Actually, I do know where to start. I gently pull her up, and kiss her again. It's strange to taste myself on her. I can't remember the last time a woman has done that. Without breaking the kiss, I walk us toward the bed, and gently nudge her onto it. She backs up to the pillows, and I follow her. I kiss her neck, her collarbone. I gently tug on her ear with my teeth, and enjoy the soft, whimpers coming from her.

Then I move to her breasts. They're as beautiful as I'd always imagined. They're large and perfectly shaped, and I spend a moment touching them and staring before I finally take a nipple in my mouth. She arches off the bed, and her hands tangle in my hair, holding me in place.

"Harder, please. Please."

I take more of her breast in my mouth, sucking and squeezing. Some part of my brain tells me that she'll be bruised tomorrow, but she's moaning and pleading for me not to stop. I switch to the other one, and move my free hand down her body. She's hotter than she was earlier, and when I slide a finger in, I find her drenched.

A sob escapes her, and I pull back. "Is this too much? Should I stop?"

"If you stop, I'll kill you."

I can't help but grin. I take her breast in my mouth one last time, and then ignore her whimpers when I release it and begin to move down her body. I place light kisses over her firm stomach, and then I replace my finger with my tongue. She nearly shoots off the bed, and I place my hands on her thighs while I lick.

She pleads with me to keep going, to go harder and faster. And while the same part of me that wants to spend an entire day touching her wants to drag this out, I also want her to come as quickly as possible. My dick is achingly hard again, and I need to be inside her more than I've ever needed anything. When she comes, it's everything I hoped it would be. It's loud and intense, and knowing that I did that to her is the sexiest thing I've ever experienced.

I move back up her body, and hover over her. "Are you sure?" She nods. "I don't have… anything. I didn't expect this today."

She runs a hand over my back. "I'm on the pill. It's okay."

I let out a breath and begin to kiss her. And once my tongue touches hers, I slide into her. And it feels like coming home.

I don't move for a moment, letting her acclimate to my size, and then she moves her hips to urge me on, and I start to thrust. I know immediately that this isn't going to be the romantic love-making you'd find in a romance novel. It's hard and fast, and even though I literally came less than ten minutes ago, I know it's going to be over much too quickly.

Based on her noises I can tell she's getting close, and she whispers for me to finish with her. My senses, all of my senses, are filled with her, and I'm thankful for that. I manage to hold on until she starts to tremble, and then I let go. I empty myself into her for the second time that afternoon and try to keep from collapsing onto her. Finally, I can't hold my weight up anymore, so I pull out of her and collapse beside her.

I can't fathom not having my hands on her, so I tug her to me. She curls up against my side and runs her fingers through my chest hair. "Are you okay?"

She looks up and meets my eyes before nodding. "I'm okay. Are you?"

I can't help but smile. "Yeah. I'm okay."

The End.