Chapter 9
The drive to the A-frame house, half an hour from town, was thick with silence. Mac could feel his eyes on her as she pressed an old t-shirt of his against her bleeding forehead. The cut stung badly and a brewing headache threatened to explode into a full-blown migraine. But, it wasn't the pain that gnawed at her, it was the oppressive tension that seemed to grow with every passing second.
It had been years since she felt this way, not since Australia and the long, suffocating flight to DC. Harm had barely acknowledged her then, offering nothing more than curt, single-word replies and frustrated sighs every time she tried to make some sort of conversation.
That trip had changed everything between them, a turning point she couldn't ignore. Looking back now, she wished she'd hurled Mic's ring straight into Sydney Harbour and spared herself what came next. Maybe none of this would have unfolded.
The rain was still pouring in heavy sheets as she followed him into the quaint home. Harm led her to the bathroom before retreating to the living area where he sat waiting with a first aid kit and a bottle of antiseptic.
"You won't need any of that. It stopped bleeding. I can go now," She said firmly after cleaning herself up as best as possible. The gash still bled a little but she was dammed if she would let him try to fix it.
"Not in this weather. It's only going to get worse. C'mere," he replied, tapping the sofa beside him. When she didn't move, he sighed heavily. "C'mon, MacKenzie, let me have a look."
But she stayed where she was, refusing to give in to the man who could spin her world off its axis with his erratic moods. He ran cold, then hot. Pushed her away, only to resent her for finding comfort elsewhere. Nothing about Harmon Rabb Jr. had ever made sense—why would now be any different?
"No. I don't need your help. What I need is to get the hell out of here."
"Don't be stubborn, Mac."
"Stubborn? Me?" she shot back, exasperated.
"Yeah, you know how you get."
Mac was honestly a little annoyed. A part of her wanted to slap him, something she probably should have done years ago. The other part wanted nothing more than to escape Hood River and put as much distance as possible between herself and David Elliott. She crossed her arms, her frustration boiling over as he stared at her.
"An hour ago, you seemed dead set on running me out of town. Hell, Harm, you ran me off the fucking road! It's been years, and you still flip your emotions on and off like a bilge switch. You wanted me gone! What's changed all of a sudden?"
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. "Honestly? I don't know."
"You don't know?"
He didn't. Maybe watching her car veer off the road had snapped something into focus? A harsh reminder of just how reckless he'd become. The thought that he might have gotten her killed gnawed at him on the drive to his house.
"Why are you still in Hood River?" he asked, with a sharp tone. "I told you to leave."
"Unfinished business," Mac met his gaze without flinching and noticed a slight wince.. "I needed to talk to you."
"We already talked. Nothing's going to change."
His words cut deep, each one a reminder that the man she'd once known was long gone. The Harmon Rabb Jr. she cared for would never have let things unravel like this. She hesitated for a moment, then finally asked the question that had been weighing on her. "Do you blame me for that?"
For a long time, he had. But as much as it pained him to admit, the fallout was his fault. His rash decisions, his stubborn pride—they had steered them both here. "No."
"You need to. Then maybe I can stop feeling so goddamn guilty." Mac sank into an oversized chair with a loud sigh, her body heavy with exhaustion. She felt defeated, every ounce of energy drained. As she tried to scrub a hand across her face, the gash above her eyebrow throbbed painfully, reopening and sending a fresh trickle of blood down her skin. She tried to wipe it away, but the blood only stained her cheek, leaving a faint pinkish hue.
Harm was at her side in an instant, seated on a thick wooden coffee table that he'd crafted with his own hands out of timber unfit for the mill. He stopped her hand from doing more damage, wrapped his fingers around her wrist and that's when his eyes focused on the marred skin on her forearm..
The familiar dark circles of raised and discolored skin reminded him of those past, horrific cases that made his better judgement falter. As an investigator, he was supposed to be impartial but there was little to be done about his feelings when physical abuse was so painfully evident.
Cigarette burns were all too familiar to him, scars that never truly faded. But these were worse—larger, the clear welt from a cigar. Seeing them on Mac stirred a white-hot rage within him, a fury he didn't even know he had. When she tried to pull her arm away, his grip tightened and his voice seethed with anger. "He did this to you?"
"It doesn't matter."
He grinded his teeth so hard she could actually hear it. "It does matter. He was supposed to protect you. You were supposed to be happy."
Harm let go of her arm but not before lightly running the pad of his thumb over one of the scars. He would kill Mic if he ever had the chance. The bastard should have been obliterated in Australia when Chegwidden gave the men a chance to use each other as punching bags.
"You had a right to be happy," he said, repeating the mantra Ellie had once given him, the one that had offered a moment of comfort to his broken heart, if only for a while.
Mac winced as he gently pressed a clean patch of gauze to her wound. "I would have been happier with you."
"You don't know that," he replied quietly. "You and me, we both want to be on top, and that's impossible on every level. We would have destroyed each other and it would have been for nothing."
She flinched at his words and wondered if he was trying to protect her from himself or if, deep down, he somehow enjoyed hurting her. Why else would he constantly push her away with words as sharp as blades. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she whispered, "It wouldn't have been for nothing, at least not for me."
"Mac, stop it." He was starting to lose patience, the edge in his voice noticeable. "Look, I wanted you. I always have, but I'm broken. The moment I get what I want, I'm no longer interested. I'm fucked up that way. You would have just been another notch, a box to tick just like Kate Pike was."
And he didn't want to lose her friendship, the camaraderie, he couldn't bring himself to admit the deeper reason. Shit, he could barely accept the lies he'd told himself, especially when he'd lost her anyway. Harm held back a sigh as he placed the gauze on the wounds and carefully smoothed the edges of the adhesive tape over her forehead.
"Glad to know the company you keep me in."
"It's the truth." He tried to focus on the task at hand, ignoring the way it made him feel when her beautiful eyes stared up at him. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"The way you do." Harm took a breath, tearing another strip of tape and repeating the process on the opposite side of the gauze. "I wanted to warn you. I had this premonition about Mic."
"I know, I deserve an 'I told you so." She snorted, though the humor didn't reach her eyes.
"That isn't funny," he muttered. "He said he loved you... If you love a woman, you don't do... that."
There were many layers to Mic's version of love, few of which Mac had ever wanted to experience. "It was different before we got married," she said quietly. "Everything changed once we got to Australia for the honeymoon. I wasn't the wife he thought he was getting. He told me once that I did the old bait and switch on him. In a way, he was right."
Harm gently took her wrist, studying the marks with a quiet intensity. His thumb brushed over one scar and then another. He'd enjoy slowly torturing the son of a bitch if ever given the chance. Death was much too easy. "Sounds like it was the other way around. Whatever happened, you didn't deserve this."
"Maybe I did," Her reply was followed by a soft sigh. "You don't call another man's name while in bed with your husband, on your honeymoon, and expect everything to be perfect afterward." She blushed and then tilted her head to the side showing him the other scars.
"Jesus Christ." he muttered under his breath, his heart sinking as the realization hit him of just how bad it could have been.
The scars embarrassed her, so Mac hid them with concealer and long-sleeved Marine greens, even in the sweltering summer heat. Doctors promised they would heal but not much had changed and each time she looked in the mirror all Mac remembered was that afternoon. "He hated it when I pleaded for him to stop drinking. I didn't mind a beer or two, but when he drank too much there's a smell, sweet and rotten scent, nauseating. It seeps through the skin…My dad used to reek of it when he drank too much. I hate it."
She exhaled deeply, letting the breath carry away some of her pain. Mic never cared to understand and there was one reason why. "He couldn't get over whatever was between me and you because I couldn't get over you leaving. I was lonely, with my best friend gone, and my husband finally realized the only reason I went to him was because the man I really wanted didn't want me back."
"You don't need stitches." Harm gathered the items from the kit, casually dropping each one back into the pouch. She might as well have been discussing the weather, for all the emotion he showed—or rather, didn't.
"Good."
His jaw was tightening as he thought about her failed marriage. It was too much for him to hear, too much to process and there was nothing either of them could do about it anyway. It was too late for them. "You need to go home, Mac. Back to Washington, to your career. You need to forget about me."
"Harm-"
Her voice caught on his name, like a plea he didn't fully understand. Stone-faced, he stood and motioned toward the window. "It's not raining so bad. I can take you back now."
"That's it? You have nothing else to say?"
"No. I don't."
"Oh..Okay." The word hung in the air, heavy with finality. Her heart sank, just like it had so many times before. It fell straight to her stomach, making her feel suddenly sick. The sting of unshed tears was impossible to ignore, but Mac refused to cry over him again. "Okay."
She followed him outside and waited on the covered porch as he fetched his keys and locked up. One tear managed to escape, but she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. He was slipping away from her again, disappearing forever. The moment she left Hood River, Mac knew she would never return. They would never see eachother again.
The Heavens chose that moment to open up again and rain poured down in sheets, soaking them both. But somehow, the deluge felt good, like nature itself was washing away every bad decision she'd ever made. It was cleansing, empowering and each crack of lightning across the sky was a jolt of awakening.
Harm stood holding the truck door open, his other hand shielding his eyes from the rain. He needed her gone as fast as possible if only to get his emotions back in check. "Come on, Mac. We're gonna get soaked."
"Wait."
"Mac, get your ass in the truck. Now."
Her voice was firm as she stepped forward, unwilling to leave without laying everything on the line. She had to make him understand, even if it meant exposing more than she was ready for.
"I love you, Harm. I've loved you since we met. I loved you when we dated others, and I loved you when Mic put his ring on my finger. I loved you when we kissed that night on the Admiral's porch, and I loved you the day I married someone else. And dammit, I still love you now. I love you more than I'll ever love anyone else."
"I know I'm this sad, pathetic, nothing of a woman, but I can't leave without you knowing that I love you..I. Love. You." The words tumbled out, rushed and raw, and as she spoke, the weight she'd carried for years seemed to lift off her shoulders, almost like magic. She took deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic thudding of her heart, knowing the ride back to town would be filled with more unbearable silence and a tension so thick, it would suffocate her.
As expected, Harm had no reply because silence had always been their best form of communication. There was nothing from him, no sign or a widening of his eyes, no acknowledgment that he understood what she'd said. Simply nothing.
It cemented the belief that had been gnawing at her for years—she was just another one of his playthings, a toy he never wanted to share but broke without consequences. Sadly, she couldn't even begin to feel guilty anymore, not when he could stare at her so blankly, without a flicker of emotion.
A goodbye had never stung so much, the pain so sharp it numbed her skin, which quickly cooled in the rain. Their bittersweet ending was heartbreaking, but now she could at least attempt to move on, to build a life better than the one she left behind in Washington.
For Harm, it all felt like a train derailment, a crash at Mach 3 happening in slow motion. Her words were partially drowned out by the frantic beat of his heart, but damned if he didn't understand each one.
Mac spoke without fear, her confession rushing out like an unstoppable flood from a broken dam. She was so brave, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of jealousy at her strength, at the courage it took to speak those words when all he had done was run from her. The words she spoke wove through the air like an enchantment, a spell that could bring him to his knees.
But Mac wasn't his to have, not anymore, if ever. His commitment to another ensured that, and yet his resolve was shattered by her presence. She moved toward him as if in slow motion, standing toe to toe, face to face—a final challenge he couldn't refuse.
If he lost this moment, if she walked away, there would be no more chances. And still, he stood there, looking down at her red-rimmed eyes filled with tears that Mac refused to shed. He wavered so much. All the reasons why they weren't good together made perfect sense and yet, it didn't because they were all excuses he'd made.
So what if she loved him? He loved her too. Always would. A curse that could turn into a blessing when his hand roughly gripped the back of her head, pulling her close.
Their kiss was nothing if not punishing in its intensity. The tension between them melted away as a spark ignited an emotion he'd tried so hard to suppress. Her lips parted without him asking, and he drank from them greedily like Mac was the rarest of wines.
When they broke apart, he saw the wonder in her eyes, and for once, he would lay his broken heart bare for her to do with as she wished.
"You love me?" He asked softly, wishing for something he had no right to have.
"Yes," she breathed.
"Goddamn it, Sarah... I love you too."
Her mouth on his made his hand shake which inturn made it difficult to unlock the door. She had to steady him and the second they stepped inside, wet clothing started falling away hastily leaving a trail to the spiral stairs that went to the bedroom.
He was much more beautiful than she remembered. The tall, lanky sailor she'd met years ago had filled out significantly from the long hours of manual labor. Mac had seen him topless before but there was no comparison to the man now standing before her. He was perfect and she suddenly felt guilty at ever calling him a 'stickboy.'
Her heated gaze trailed down from his chest, following the faint line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Unable to resist, Mac let her fingers glide across his abdomen, her touch light as she traced the contours of each defined muscle, marveling at the strength beneath her fingertips.
"Mac," he gasped, his voice catching as her touch sent a spark through him. He was tempted to push her hands away, but the electricity between them stopped him. Instead, Harm closed his eyes, fighting the raging storm within him, and protested again. "Mac—"
"I want this," she said firmly, voice steady hiding her own doubt. "I've wanted you since the day you dangled from a helicopter to save me."
Harm eyes snapped open, and a slow smirk tugged at his lips. She was always catching him off guard, always a surprise; his Marine.
"Really?" The surprise was evident in his tone and off her shy nod he cradled her cheek in his hand. He watched her intently as his thumb gently brushed over her lips. "You're so beautiful."
And with that he kissed her deeply leaving them both dizzy and breathless. "I have so many reasons why we shouldn't do this," He murmured against her mouth with a voice so thick with emotion Mac thought he might let her go. "Not one of them makes sense anymore."
Only one reason remained, but he silenced the nagging voice in his head begging him to stop. Being honorable had brought him nothing but heartache, and now, as he stood on the edge of betrayal, he ignored the weight of his choice. There would be guilt, pain, and an inevitable fallout that would force Mac to hate him. But even knowing all of that, he couldn't sever the invisible rope that pulled him toward the one thing he'd always wanted.
Harm briefly considered using a condom but, in all his fantasies of Mac (there had been many), sex between them was always skin on skin. But reality had a way of worrying him. He'd been with Ellie not long ago, and while he knew she was clean, compounding his guilt with more reckless decisions was not wise. There was also the matter of Mac's birth control methods, a conversation he wasn't ready to navigate now if ever.
Despite the warning in his mind, Harm could not stop. The yearning to feel her completely with no barriers between them won out. As he made his choice, a wave of guilt washed over him only to be drowned by the pull of what they both needed.
And yet he hesitated. The brief flicker of doubt in his eyes was all Mac needed to act. Without a word, she brushed his length, dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth.
"Sarah." The move was rather unexpected and Harm's legs nearly gave out from the deliberate havoc her lips delivered. She took him slowly and in his wildest of fantasies never realized Mac could feel this good.
"Stop, please." Begging wasn't his strong suit but he wouldn't let their first time continue like.this. She deserved so much more from him. With a breath held in quiet reverence he gently brought her up and pushed her back onto the mattress.
Her thighs parted for him without hesitation, as though the goddess of love herself was leading Harm towards his undoing. At that moment he was far too weak, too turned on to do anything but follow. And though his body was begging him to take her, push deep inside until he had his fill, she was far too perfect for him not to taste.
"Harm, you don't have to. I'm wet and oh!"
His mouth drank of her just as greedily as she had of him. Tongue parting her folds, his fingers moving slowly in and out with a deft precision that she nearly blacked out as she came.
Harm offered her a little time to recover from her high but as the doubts began to creep in once again, he'd be the one to silence the voices and take the one thing he wanted more than anything.
She was tight and wet and deliciously warm around him. The desire to wildly thrust into her was held back by the look in Mac's eyes. She wanted him, loved him and he lamented their past mistakes - mostly his - that should have been resolved sooner. They could have enjoyed this years ago without all of the stupid walls he insisted they needed to break through. He could have had her.
Mac's legs cradled his body and when he stopped moving, she pressed him closer forcing him to fill her. The man was exquisitely thick and as her nails bit into his six whatever hesitation still remained broke free. "I want you, so so bad." He confessed between nips to her collar bone, her lips and that blasted cigar burn he ex had left on her neck.
Even with the marks on her skin, Mac was still devastatingly beautiful and for several long breaths all he could do was see her - really see her, all the facets he wanted to ignore but never managed to forget.
"Harm, please. Please.." It was her desperate plea, the way her body clung to his and begged him to finish what had started that finally made him move. She would have died of need if he didn't make love to her then and wilted away into nothingness. Such was the fiery passion he sparked in her. With one hard thrust, he claimed her fully setting a relentless rhythm that made her gasp for breath.
He wasn't gentle, not by a long shot but neither was she. Mac met each one of his thrusts, squeezing him and delighting in the way she saw each one of his walls crumble. He spoke her name over and over, his voice mingling with groans and moans as he drowned in her.
Harm felt the familiar ache building, a surge of warmth that shot through him without abandon. He was on the edge too soon and he desperately needed this coupling to last as long as possible.
He took several long strokes inside her then changed to shallower movements, the tip of his cock barely grazing her lips as he tried to control his breathing.
That wouldn't do. Not when she was so close and just the very feel of him pulling out made Mac ache for him. She pushed at his shoulder and situated herself atop his hips when his back hit the mattress. Her wet sex possessively took his length to the hilt. Mac hissed at the new sensation but before long was grabbing the headboard, using it as leverage while she rode him faster.
She was his goddess come to life. Each move, each roll of her hip made him feel something different. He guided her with his hands on her hips, used his fingers to make her come once, twice. There would have been a third time but he wanted to be back on top, wanted to plunge into her hard and deep while she milked every last drop of him.
Mac almost protested when he turned them over. She was close, so close to the most intense orgasm of her life. But then he kneeled between her thighs, plunging deep, claiming her once again just as roughly as he had before. The man she once accused of being a prude was anything but and when he pushed into her, he grabbed her hands and pinned them into the mattress by her head. She was a willing captive, a slave to Harm's whims while he remained deep inside but perfectly still.
"Oh God, Harm…finish it. Please..I need-"
He silenced her with a deep kiss that only broke when neither of them could breathe. One hand came between their bodies, a slow stroke of her clit that nearly made Mac come again. He stopped too soon, grinned at her disappointed whimper and then came up to his knees.
One quick pull towards him raised her hips pushing Harm impossibly deeper. He might of given her a warning but Mac's thundering heart
blocked out his words. Eyes the color of a storm tossed sea stared intently. An expression of lust, love and a bit of danger made her want him even more. "Come inside me."
"Fuck, Mac." This time he wouldn't stop, he couldn't because his body was about to self combust just being inside her. He moved deeply in and out thrusting into her rough and ruthless, his body unwilling to cease the erratic pace until he exploded inside her depths.
Mac's cries became louder as he slammed into her, his name on her lips urged him to move harder, faster in her own desperate need to come. She needed the release, and begged for him again.It was so damned good she nearly blacked out. Her body quivered beneath his and each aftershock was ridden out with shaky breath.
"Come inside me." She asked again and in one final, hard thrust ahe felt his seed spilling into her.
He screamed her name, grunting as her body took all of him. The intensity of their union was beautiful in its raw ferocity, and for the life of him, Harm struggled to recall any sexual encounter that had been as fulfilling as this one.
He had been with many women over the years. The number wasn't staggering, but it was enough to satisfy most of his desires. Yet, he wasn't in love with any of them but he was in love with Mac.
And that had been the crux of their relationship - the realization that once he tasted he would have had to give up far more than he had ever been willing to - his career, his home, the very life he had built for himself. The stakes were too high, the risk too great. It was easier to settle for temporary relationships, knowing they would start hot and cool down before they demanded too much. Those brief, passing connections offered a comfort he couldn't ignore; no real commitment, no lasting change. No love because his heart belonged to only one woman.
He made to pull away, unlock their bodies but her soft, whispered voice and the limp arms that were now wrapped around his torso forced him to stay. "No, not yet."
"Mac, I'll crush you."
"It's okay." Her hand moved to his cheek, softly tracing the curve of his face, brushing aside a damp lock of hair from his forehead. "Just a little while longer."
"Alright." He closed his eyes briefly and shifted his weight just enough to not hurt her. A soft sigh escaped him when he felt her move beneath. "But not too long."