Mack kisses a trail of burning desire down the tender spot on my neck. I close my eyes, making the heat from his lips build an electric buzz in my body. Each kiss sends pulses of electricity to my nipples, then down to my belly and it spreads down further, blossoming between my legs.

Damn, only Mack could make me so wet from a kiss. A simple kiss was all it ever took to make me crazy. I’ve never been able to resist his lips.

“I can’t wait to taste every single inch of you,” Mack growls. I can feel his teeth graze my neck and a little shiver runs down my spine.

“Every inch, huh?” I smirk at the idea. A girl could do worse than having Mack “Captain America” Forrester worshipping her body. I doubt she could ever do better actually.

“Every inch,” he continues kissing down along my collar bone, his fingers sliding up under the hem of my shirt. “From here,” his fingertip grazes over my bra and I press my breasts against him, greedy for more. “All the way to here,” he drags his hand down over my belly, over my ass and down my legs to my ankles. “Do you think I’m forgetting anywhere?” he teases me and my pussy clenches tight with anticipation.

“Maybe,” I breathe.

“How about here,” his fingers softly make their way back up my leg and stop between my thighs. “I’m gonna love eating your sweet pussy, Lauren.” Mack gives me a quick kiss on my neck and starts tugging my shirt up over my belly to free me. But my body seems to have other plans.

Please, not now.

“Uh, Mack?” I creak.

“Yeah?” He pulls my shirt up over my breasts, exposing my lavender bra.

“I, uh, I’ve had too much wine. I need to use the washroom.” I squirm, hating my pathetic bladder right now. Worst timing ever.

Mack sits back and looks up at me, “God, Lauren, you look horrified,” he smirks. “It’s no biggie, go pee. I’m not going anywhere.” He sits back into the couch looking like he’s been sitting on it since the day I bought it. He looks so perfectly comfortable in my home, like he’s always been there. Like he always will be.

“I’m not horrified,” I lie. “I just didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Mack suddenly grabs my hand and pulls it between his legs, resting it on his hard cock pressing against his fly. I gasp, but don’t try to pull it back.

“See? You couldn’t possibly ruin the mood. Now go, hurry back.”

Reluctantly, I pull my hand back and get my feet under me. Seriously hating my bladder even more after that. Damn, it seems like his muscles, tattoos and ego aren’t the only things that’ve grown. His cock is hard, heavy and huge!

I scurry over to the stairs and jump up them like a gazelle, two at a time. I think I hear Mack laughing at me from the living room, but I hurry into the bathroom too quickly to say for sure.

Still cursing the wine and my bladder, I sit down and pee as fast as I can. With the toilet still flushing, I rinse my hands and see myself in the mirror for the first time tonight. I look ten years younger! I can’t believe how much youth has returned to my eyes, I can’t help but smile at my reflection. Mack isn’t just good for my body, he’s good for my soul. And my soul doesn’t want to waste another second staring at myself in the mirror.

Heading out the door, I start for the stairs but stop in my tracks. I should check in on Chris first. It’s not like when he was a baby and I used to stand over his crib watching him sleep. However, this has been a difficult time for him the past few weeks. I mean, seeing just tiny glimpses of my old son peaking through from behind the tumultuous clouds of pain he’s been hiding behind for a year has given my heart so much hope. I just pray that it lasts. I pad lightly down the hall and sneak a quick look in his room. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of his space as I search for his bed … it’s empty!

Wait, where is he? I look around his room, snapping my head around so fast that it hurts my neck. He’s not there. I flip on his light, “Chris? Chris!” No answer. Instead, his window is gaping open, like a mouth trying to shout the answers to where my son went.

His room is empty.

Cold fear spreads through my stomach as I turn on my heel and run to my room in search of my son. Flicking the switch to my light, it’s clear that he hasn’t been in my room at all, let alone to sleep.

“Chris?” My voice is rising with the panic rising in my chest. Lord, where is he?

I thump back down the stairs, and stop at the bottom. Mack is standing over by the mantle looking at our family photos. One family photo in particular. The large double framed collage of pictures showing the early years of my time with Chris. There is photo after photo of only my son and I at the park, on birthdays, Christmases, just enjoying life together. Just the two of us. That’s how it was until he was three. Mack’s eyes slide over to the next frame, the picture of my wedding day, where Joel, Chris and I are smiling at the camera broadly. I remember feeling relieved when Joel and I got married. Relieved that he was a good man who wanted to take Chris and I on. Who wanted to look after us, care for us.

I don’t have time to wonder if Mack is putting the story together. I don’t have time to explain that Joel is absent from years’ worth of pictures because he wasn’t in our lives then. I don’t have time because right now, his son is missing and we need to find him.

“Mack!” His head snaps up at the edge in my tone.

“Sorry, I was just looking around a bit,” he starts to explain.

“That’s fine,” I hold out my hand to stop him from explaining. I don’t really care right now. “Mack, we need to call the cops! Chris is gone. Oh my God, it’s almost midnight! Where could he be? Oh my God!” Tears swell up in the corners of my eyes.

“Are you sure?” Mack doesn’t wait for me to answer, he lunges up the stairs and I can hear his prosthetic thump against the floor above as he searches the rooms.

I grab the phone wondering if I should call the police department or 9-1-1. I can hear Mack rush back down the stairs and close the distance between us.

“Lauren! Where is Joel buried?” Mack interrupts my disjointed thoughts.

“What?” My mind can’t process his words. They don’t make sense to me. I don’t care about Joel right now; I want to find Chris. “What are you talking about?”

“I know where he is, I’m going to go get him, ok? Tell me, please, where is Joel buried?” Mack lays a hand on my shoulder and it’s heavy. It brings me back from the edge. It calms me.

The grave is on Magnolia Lane, it’s only five blocks north. At the Lewis cemetery. You think he’s there? Why?”

“I know he is. Stay here in case he comes back, ok? I’m going to go get him. I promise. If he’s not there then I’ll call you, but I think he is.” Mack gives out his orders as he grabs his things and heads out the door. Once a soldier always a soldier.

“Ok, Mack, are you sure? I think I should call the police. What if something happened to him.” The tears spill over and wet my face, but I don’t care.

“Hey,” Mack grabs my shoulders and looks down into my face, “I told you, I promise I’ll get him. Ok? You can trust my word, you know that. Please, try to calm down a little and I’ll be back soon. I’ll take care of this. I promise.” He stresses and somehow it actually does slow my heartbeat a little from the borderline heart attack I’m having.

“Ok,” I answer and Mack gives me a quick peck on the forehead and disappears out the front door.

“I love you,” I whisper to the door shutting in my face. Please, Lord, let him bring back my baby. Please, let this all be ok.