Page 27 of Under the Radar
“So could I. It sure beats the sand trenches. You can open your eyes.” He swung the door wide and tapped on a control panel. The lights clicked off as he took her hand and padded toward the huge bed. “You want a nightcap? I’m having a few sips of bourbon.”
“No, thanks.” She grabbed her bottle of water from earlier. “Maybe have a couple slugs of this instead?” She offered him the water.
He held the rocks glass for a moment and studied her. “I guess you’re right. The liquor could backfire eventually.”
Mo placed the water bottle in his hand. “Hydrate to get rid of the headache.”
Mac drained the water in several long gulps, climbed into bed after removing his robe, fluffed their pillows, and patted the spot in front of him. He turned out the light on the bed table.
He was so beautiful and at ease with his body. Yes, she’d seen him sans clothes before, but just once in a muted candlelight during their haze of scorching passion. His back resembled a tapestry of rippling muscles, and the sensation of his body surrounding her still made her tingle. She bit her lip as she slipped out of the bathrobe and slid in next to him. His big arm tucked her close to his core.
“You’re allowed to breathe, cupcake. If you’re not comfortable, I’ll sleep outside the covers. It’s no problem.”
“Don’t even think about it. I’m fine. How’s your headache?” She ran her hand up and down his well-muscled forearm.
“Still there, not as intense.
“Want me to rub your head again?”
“No, I’m good.” He sighed deeply. “Why does your adoption bother you?”
Mo laced her fingers through his. “My birth mother dropped me off at child protective services when I was barely four. I remember it, but I can’t see her face in my mind anymore. Aside from that, I don’t recollect anything before the parents I know now. Jason couldn’t accept the fact that my last name is Reardon—by adoption. It’s like hitting the parent lottery jackpot even though my adoption occurred several years before Reardon Industries became a publicly traded company. Until I was eight, I grew up in what my family affectionately calls ‘the little house.’”
Mac tightened his arms around her and warmed her feet with his. “You don’t have to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable, Mo.”
“It’s okay. Jason used to tease and call me his little curbside pick-up. I left him the day he sent flowers to me addressed to Cinderella. He’s very misogynistic and likes hurting me. I finally realized he’d never let me forget that I came from nothing, even though I’ve worked hard to make something of myself outside of the Reardon fortune.”
“He didn’t deserve you.”
Yeah, that’s for sure. “Learning to stick up for myself was a hard lesson. I’m still working on it. But the minute I left him, I was free. He used to lose his mind over my charitable contributions. I finally hired an accountant unaffiliated with Reardon Industries so he couldn’t check up on my finances. It was none of his business if I sent a hundred kids to camp. It could’ve been me caught in the system, in juvie, or in the foster care system, trying to find my way out.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “You asked a loaded question. I probably made your headache worse with my answer.”
Mac nuzzled her neck. “I only had that one encounter with him at Ethan and Tia’s wedding. I wasn’t impressed.”
“Jason Hadley used to be nice. I don’t know what changed him.” She’d spent many a night pondering that question and never came up with an answer that made any sense.
“We’ll have a good time in South Beach tomorrow.”
“Okay, Commander. But first, we sleep.”
Almost instantly, Mac’s breathing drifted into a deep, rhythmic pattern.
Mo had everything she needed, all warm and cocooned in Mac’s arms. And she’d discuss the Baltimore fiasco with him, but not before he was feeling better.
Tomorrow. Or the next day, for sure.