“I’m not anyone else. I’m her best friend.”
“Sometimes that’s the hardest person to share the truth with.”
McKenna let out a huff of disappointment. “You mean because I’m so judgmental?”
“No, because nobody will tell you what you don’t want to hear like your best friend. It’s your best friend’s job to tell you the truth even when it’s inconvenient, and sometimes you don’t want that love bubble busted just yet.”
“Maybe,” she sighs and starts for the bedroom. “Do you think she has a diary? She never said anything to me, but she might.”
“Do girls use diaries anymore? Wouldn’t that shit be on her phone?”
“Yes, they have diaries. Journals, stuff like that,” McKenna says. We spend the better part of two hours going through every scrap of paper, every book, and magazine inside the walls of Grace’s apartment. In the end, we come up with jack shit.
“I can’t believe there’s nothing,” she pouts and stares at the giant, offensive pile.
“There is something. We just have to figure out where to look, that’s all.”
I cast my eyes around the small space filled with shit. I know I don’t have time to spend the day here. But I don’t want to leave McKenna alone, either.
As if she reads my mind, McKenna turns to me with a knowing look on her face. “You don’t have to stay, Mark. I thought what we needed would be much easier to find.”
“Yeah, me too,” I tell her and run a hand through my hair. “I can stay a bit longer but not much. Got some shit to handle with the club.”
McKenna nods and looks away. Her gaze is sad, and she’s on the verge of tears, which I definitely cannot fucking handle again. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, I grunt in her general direction and go through another drawer filled with papers. I sift through Grace’s personal belongings searching for photos, thumb drives, love notes, anything that would identify the guy taking up her free time. Another hour later, I have to call it quits.
“I have to go, McKenna.”
She nods silently, those big, all-seeing eyes so fucking sad, it’s a kick in the nuts.
“Oh. Okay.”
“If you need me, just call.”
She nods again, but I know I’m the last person McKenna will call if she needs someone, which only begs the question: who will she call?
Things are still tense between McKenna and Kelsey, and Grace is gone.
“I mean it.”
My rough words pull a small smile across her face.
“I will. I promise.” McKenna follows me to the door, and I turn to face her. “I’ll be all right, Mark.”
“Of course, you will. You’re tougher than you think, Princess McKenna.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the hint of a smile. “Sure. Thank you.” The last words come out on a gentle whisper she follows up with a soft kiss to my lips.
It’s a bad idea. She is a bad idea, and we, the two of us together, are a fucking terrible idea, but once our lips touch, I don’t give a shit about any of that.
Fire engulfs us, and everything else just disappears. Nothing matters but the feel of her hands against my chest, my lips on hers, my hands grabbing her ass to pull her closer.
She gasps at the feel of my cock, hard and aching between us, and then surprise of all fucking surprises, McKenna fists my cock through my jeans.
“Careful,” I growl and kiss a streak of heat across her collarbone.
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to do the right thing where you’re concerned, Princess.”
“How about you ask me what the right thing is, President?”
That sassy mouth is too much to take. I haul her up against me and kiss the fuck out of her until we’re both breathless and panting, staring at each other because we can’t believe this is how it is between us.
“McKenna.”
“Mark,” she whispers. “Ace. Whatever you prefer. I want this. I need it. You said it yourself, this is the only thing to ease the grief. Ease my grief, please.”
Dammit, I could have resisted her if not for that almost silent plea.
“You sure?”
She nods, and that’s good enough for me. I capture her mouth again and kiss her while my hands work quickly to undress her, but not completely. Just enough to see what she’s working with.
The answer is a lot. Underneath the prissy clothes, McKenna is a fucking knockout. Her tits are bigger than they look with a trim waist and hips that belong to a woman.
I lick my lips at the sight of the small bush on her pubic bone and plump, bare pussy lips, wet and glistening.
“Come here,” I growl and dip my fingers between her legs while I taste her lips once again.
“So fucking wet.”
She smiles. “You wear those jeans well.”
I push her up against the door and drop down to my knees, tossing one leg over my shoulder so I can see the pretty pinkness of her pussy before I devour it.