Thirteen
“Play it from all angles.” Mac repeated Dune’s advice as he entered the T-shirt shop. Match point. His heart gave a significant kick. He felt like he was going into overtime.
He hated overtime.
There were no customers in the store. Everyone was on the boardwalk and beach. The sandcastle and kite flying contests would end at five. Judging followed, and then trophies would be awarded. Mac hoped the twenty-foot sea serpent took first place. It was a legendary beast and a scary sight to kids. Children took their parents’ hands when they skirted the monster’s humped body and tall, arched neck.
He glanced at his watch. Where the hell was Jen?
“Jenna’s in the back,” Randy told him after Mac had stood at the front counter for five whole minutes.
Randy was sweeping up the shop. He had a smirk on his face, as if he’d planned to make Mac suffer. Sneaky little shit.
Mac wondered if he looked as foolish as he felt.
The boy and his broom were headed Mac’s way. Mac was certain Jen had told her employees that he wasn’t welcome. Randy didn’t look the least bit happy to see him. The last thing he wanted was to argue with the kid.
Mac rounded a rack of shirts and walked toward the back. He kept one eye on Randy. The kid’s reflection was visible in the two big mirrors on the wall.
“Workers only in the storeroom,” Randy called after him.
Screw that rule.
Mac jerked open the door and walked in. He found Jenna leaning over and shoulder-deep in a cardboard box. Her butt was up in the air. Her sexy bottom was small, tight, and encased in a pair of skinny jeans. Mac recognized the denim by its texture. He wasn’t certain what color her top was.
He’d always favored statuesque women with slim hips and model-long legs. His attraction to Jen was a fluke. He had no sane reason to pursue her, yet whenever they were together he found himself distracted by her no matter who else was in the room.
He tried not to look at her, but he was aware of her every move out of the corner of his eye. He continually thought about what it would be like with her when they eventually made love.
Sex with Jen was a given.
The only question was the time and place.
She was driving him nuts now. Leaning over the edge of the big box, she wiggled her ass in the air as she stretched downward. Her full concentration was on the contents. She’d yet to come up for air or notice him.
Her butt cheeks became a prime target.
Mac slapped her on the ass.
The pop sounded loud in the room.
She rose with such force that she stumbled backward and right into him. He caught her shoulders and steadied her. She turned on him, her lips parted, her eyes wide. She held a sharp box cutter in her left hand.
He didn’t trust her.
He stepped back.
Her face was red, flushed and hot as much from hanging upside down as from her embarrassment. Her All Stressed Out and No One to Choke T-shirt was untucked and wrinkled. She looked ready to kill him.
“What part of ‘stay away from my shop’ didn’t you understand?” she hissed.
He held up his hands. “I’m a guy who lives dangerously.”
Randy took that moment to poke his head in the door. “Everything okay, Jen?” he asked.
Mac expected her to tell the boy to call the police. She surprised him by saying, “I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”
“I’ll leave the door cracked,” Randy offered, then wandered off.
Mac figured the boy would stay within earshot. He appeared protective of Jen. Mac clutched her gift behind his back. “I stopped to see if you were still mad at me,” he said. “You left me stranded at the bazaar. When you took off on your broom, I had to hitchhike home.”
“Hitchhike?” She raised a brow. “Michele Chambers offered you a ride in the parking lot, which you accepted.”
So, she knew about Michele. Word spread fast in Barefoot William. The Cateses had a hotline. Michele had come on to him the moment he’d left the Civic Center. He hadn’t known her before that night. She’d introduced herself with a want-you, got-to-have-you smile. She had a dimple in her chin and deep cleavage. A man could get lost between her breasts. He’d resisted, even after she took the long way home.
“Nothing happened,” he told Jen.
“That’s not what she said.”
He said, she said. Mac hated verbal volleyball. “What did she say?” He was curious.
“That you checked into a motel.”
He scratched his jaw. “Was the register signed Dune Cates? I take his name wherever I go.”
“I’d forgotten that fact.” She released a breath. Mac swore she looked relieved.
“Your friend Bree Bennett once stretched the truth about me,” he reminded her. “You later apologized. Same will happen with Michele. You can say you’re sorry now or later.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“I can’t help the fact women want me. In Michele’s case, I didn’t want her back.”
“My mistake,” she said so softly he barely heard her.
She eased around him, then snuck a glance over her shoulder.
A glance that he caught. “Were you checking me out?” he asked. He was certain she had been.
“I was looking for the box cutter.”
“It’s in your hand.”
Flustered, she set the cutter down on the café table. Her color was high, her expression anxious. She slapped her thighs. “You make me crazy.”
“Good crazy?” He could only hope.
“Bat-shit crazy,” she said in frustration. “I like order and peace in my life. You breathe chaos.”
“It’s who I am, Jen.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know.”
He was who he was. Women had asked him to change over the years. Change into what? A fireman, airline pilot, professor, or superman? Priest was not an option. He was a big kid who made a lot of money playing beach volleyball. Many wished they were him. He lived in a cool glass house, had a bad-ass Corvette, and enough money to retire today if he chose to hang up his board shorts.
Then there was Jen with her cottage, cats, and snarky attitude. Attraction was a fickle bitch, he decided. He’d have to talk himself out of liking her, if he could figure out what drew him to her in the first place. It was complicated.
He’d yet to learn why she was mad at him. That troubled him the most. “Why are you still angry?” he asked.
“You honestly don’t know?” Disbelief darkened her eyes.
He shook his head. He hadn’t a clue.
“We’ll discuss it when you figure it out.”
Shit, she was going to make him work for it.
Reconciliation was beyond his reach, but maybe his gift would smooth things over a little. He passed her the box. “I brought you a present.”
Her stunned expression was priceless. She recovered quickly. “You can’t buy your way out of our argument.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
“You’re used to manipulating women.”
She knew him too well. “Decompress, Jen. Open the box.”
She did so, very slowly and cautiously, as if she expected a spring-loaded surprise. Her face softened when she saw the painting. “I love rocking chairs.” She traced the intricately curved lines with her finger. “This looks just like the one in my living room. Very thoughtful, Mac. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She propped the painting on her desk next to a color photo of her cats. “Rockers are so soothing,” she said. “I relax in mine whenever I’ve had a bad day.”
“The chairs are great for sex, too,” he said before he could stop himself. It just slipped out. “Nice motion.”
Her jaw clenched. “Way to spoil the moment.”
Damn, another strike against him. “I was making conversation.”
“Change the subject,” she said. “This time, don’t let your penis pick the topic.”
Lady was harsh. He finally came up with news he could share with her that had nothing to do with sex. “I just saw Dune and Sophie coming from the mayor’s office. She’s the new curator for the Barefoot William Museum.”
Jen was pleased. “That’s excellent news. The project will keep her busy while Dune’s away.”
“We’ll both be away,” he stressed.
“I’ll miss one of you.”
“I won’t tell Dune,” Mac said. “He’d feel bad.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you ever serious?”
“Only during volleyball and sex.”
“Otherwise life is a joke?”
“I don’t find you funny,” he said. “You’re on my case most days. You should be nicer to me.”
“Nicer?” She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her silence spoke for her. He made her bat-shit crazy.
Seconds later, Randy pushed through the door. “I’m clocking out,” he told Jen. He handed her a list with five projects neatly checked off. “All done.”
Jenna smiled. “You worked extra hard today, Randy, especially on the loading dock. You immediately got the dolly when you saw the deliveryman’s arm was in a sling and helped unload his truck. Nice going.”
The kid looked down and shuffled his feet. Compliments appeared to be new to him. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle them.
“Bonus day,” Jen added. “Pick out something to take home. Anything you’d like.”
Randy startled. “Anything?”
She nodded. “Let me know what you’re taking so I can cross it off the inventory.”
Randy spun on his heel so fast he nearly ran into the wall. The kid went shopping.
“You never give me free stuff,” Mac complained.
“You don’t work for me.”
“I could volunteer like Sophie did.”
“You’d only get in my way.”
“Watch me.” He moved toward a stack of beach towels tossed on a table. “I can fold.” He took up the task.
Jen crossed her arms over her chest and watched. “Retail is not your calling,” she eventually said.
The corners of his towels didn’t meet and the stack tilted left. The pile could not be displayed. He needed folding lessons.
Randy returned with his freebie in hand. The kid could’ve selected designer sunglasses, a surfer’s braided-leather bracelet, or a shirt from the Beach Heat collection. Instead, he’d chosen a small sand globe.
“For my sister,” he said.
Jen smiled. “She’ll love it. Wrap the globe in tissue paper and put it in a gift bag.”
“A gift bag?” His eyes widened.
They were seldom given out, and only to special customers who spent more than one hundred dollars. “The metallic blue bag is exceptionally pretty,” Jen said. “It sparkles.”
“Thanks.” He turned to Mac on his way out and gave him some advice. “Man, you need to work on your moves.” Then he was gone.
“I don’t see him with a girlfriend,” said Mac.
“I don’t see you with one, either.”
“That hurt my feelings.”
She laughed in his face.
The shop was dead quiet, though Mac could see a steady flow of traffic outside the front window. People were coming off the beach and strolling along the boardwalk. Those passing by carried the excitement of the day’s activities with them.
“Now what?” Mac posed the question he couldn’t get off his mind. “It’s just you and me—”
“And my six o’clock customers.”
He watched Jen tuck in her shirt and smooth the wrinkles with her hand. She slid open her desk drawer, drew out a comb and ran it through her short blond hair before adding a little gel. Next, she glossed her lips with cherry balm, then switched out her pink rubber flip-flops for a sexy rhinestone pair.
“I’m going to stand at the door, smile, and flag down customers,” she told him.
He raised a brow. “A little red-light retail?”
“Only you would see it that way,” she said. “The sandcastle and kite flying contests are over. Tourists are deciding on dinner and souvenirs. Some shop owners will hand out discount coupons; others will give away free samples. I need to catch the crowd’s attention, too.”
“I’m a big draw.”
She considered him. “You’re the poster child for fun in the sun.”
“I give good fun.”
Jenna Cates stared at Mac James. The man had a point. Retail was slow, and if he could stir up business, she would be grateful.
But Mac needed boundaries for this to be successful. A free-for-all was out of the question, so she set down rules. “You can’t slice prices,” she said firmly. “There’ll be no coercing or forcing people inside. No bribing, either.”
He winked at her. “It’s all about charm.”
He changed his T-shirt before taking his place by the door. He went from basic navy to one that read My Body’s an Amusement Park. No Tickets Necessary.
He drew a crowd in less than ten minutes. Jenna stood and watched, amazed. People recognized him immediately. He was a sports celebrity. Men congratulated him and women cornered him. Mac signed autographs and smiled for pictures.
He captivated everyone he met, Jen noted. He stole a woman’s good sense with his smile. His blue gaze teased and seduced. People wanted to share his space and breathe his air. He appreciated their business and told them so. He expressed his gratitude to one sexy sunbather twice.
Jen kept count.
The store was soon filled to capacity. A waiting line formed outside. All merchandise moved fast. She stood behind the front counter and rang up a month’s worth of sales in a single night.
She caught Mac’s eye. He sent her a cocky smile. Her stomach warmed. Her panties dampened. She was lost in the lusty thoughts of him when—
“My change, please?” A middle-aged man held out his hand.
Damn, she’d let Mac distract her. She hated when that happened. She quickly returned to business. Mac had suggested the Beach Heat Collection to her customer. The man had bought two button-downs. She slipped his shirts into a green plastic bag with the store logo. She counted back his three dollars and wished him a nice evening.
Jen kept the shop open until the crowd thinned.
Mac stood at the door and saw everyone out. He’d created a party atmosphere and been a great host. She was grateful for the income.
“Keys?” he asked.
She tossed him the ring of keys and he locked up.
“We moved a lot of inventory tonight,” she said with a sigh. She scanned the shop, noting the significant gaps between hangers, the dwindling piles of shorts, and the reduction in flip-flops. She stifled a yawn. “I need to straighten up and replenish the stock.”
He set her keys on the countertop and eyed her with concern. “You’re tired,” he said. “The stock can wait. Go home, recharge.”
He was right. Her lower back ached from standing and bending all day. A relaxing bubble bath called to her, as did her freshly made bed. “Home sounds good,” she agreed. “Sleep even better.”
“Care for a bedtime story?” he asked. “I can crawl in beside you and recite a short version of The Indian in the Cupboard.”
“I’ll pass.”
He came around the counter and closed the space between them. They were barely a breath apart. He tipped up her chin with his finger and forced her to hold his gaze.
Her cheeks grew warm beneath his stare. Her chest rose, her breasts felt heavy. He leaned in, and his dick nudged her belly. His scent was a mix of all the people who’d mingled in her shop.
Mac had greeted everyone personally. Surfers had thumped him on the back. Traces of salt water and sea air now blended with the sugary sweetness of a four-year-old’s cotton candy. Mac had held the little girl while her mother selected a sun visor. The child wiped her sticky hands on his shirt.
Women’s fragrances marked him as a desirable mate. Lovely, Light Blue, and Juicy drifted to her. Juicy belonged to the hot sunbather. Someone had splashed him with a fruit smoothie. Orange juice stained his athletic shorts.
Beneath the distracting scents of his fans, Jen found Mac James. He was earthy and sinful; all energy and challenge. No man was sexier.
“Dune invited me to Sophie’s birthday party,” he breathed against her mouth.
“He invited me, too.”
“Want to go together?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, but no.”
He looked confused. “Why not?”
She traced the lettering on his T-shirt. “You’re exciting and fun, like a carnival ride. But all rides come to an end.”
“Some make you puke.”
“I’m not sick of you, Mac.”
“You’re still mad and you refuse to tell me why.”
“You need to figure it out.”
“I’m not good with mind games.”
“Yet you play them all the time.” She pushed past him, collected her keys, and let him out. “ ’Night, Mac,” she said at the door.
“You and the sandman sleep tight.” He took off down the boardwalk.
Mac James had never watched a woman sleep. Jenna Cates looked good doing it. All hell would break loose if she woke up and found him standing by her bed. She could call the cops and have him arrested for breaking and entering. He didn’t want to spend the remainder of his vacation in jail.
Still, he’d taken a chance. He’d made several attempts to speak to her that evening, yet she didn’t want to talk about them.
He’d jimmied a back window to get inside her place. Once he had the window open, he’d heaved himself over the ledge and hit the floor with a thud. He’d drawn the attention of two of her Savannahs, Jango and Neo. They’d circled and checked him out. There’d been no biting or scratching. They’d let him off easy.
The cats stalked him down the hallway. The cottage had two bedrooms; the master was closer to the kitchen. Moonlight slanted through the bamboo shades and spread across the bed. Jen lay on her back; wisps of her hair feathered her cheek. No telltale dark roots. She was a natural blonde.
Her face was relaxed. Her lips were slightly parted. The sheet slipped to her waist. She wore her black nightshirt. Frosted Cupcake body lotion scented her skin. The rise and fall of her chest was slow and even. Her nipples peaked beneath the cotton. She appeared peaceful.
Chike, the largest of the Savannahs, lay by her pillow, all stretched out and giving Mac the evil eye. Mac glared back. He’d never had a staring contest with a cat. Chike won.
He debated climbing into bed with Jen. Not for sex, just to be near her. Maybe hold her. A first for him. He didn’t understand his need to see her. He’d fought the urge and lost.
He’d liked women for as long as he could remember. He sneaked kisses as far back as the fourth grade. He’d felt his first budding breast in middle school and worked his way into a girl’s panties by his freshman year in high school. He’d had regular sex in college.
He’d had a few relationships and his fair share of f*ck buddies. Expectations beyond a night together were few in his mind. Pleasure and minimal conversation worked for him.
Until Jen.
He never felt lonely, but he had tonight. The feeling was new to him. He didn’t like it. He’d grown antsy after leaving the T-shirt shop. His restlessness only increased when Dune took off to see Sophie. Mac invited himself along only to have Dune un-invite him.
His partner wanted to be alone with her, which Mac understood. Sophie was one in a million. Sweet, shy, and sensitive, she’d gotten under Dune’s skin. Mac couldn’t figure out why his own attraction ran to snippy, sarcastic, and bitchy.
Somehow Jenna Cates did it for him. For now anyway. She challenged him; made him crazy. He couldn’t predict tomorrow or next week. Tonight, he couldn’t get her out of his head.
With Dune gone, Mac sought out Frank to keep him company. He’d needed a distraction. He’d challenged the older man to a game of cribbage. Lost. Next, they played gin. Frank won all five hands. Mac had no more challenge in him. Frank blew him off and went to bed.
Mac next turned to the TV. After ninety minutes of M.A.S.H. reruns, he took Ghost for a walk in the orange grove. He strolled aimlessly and soon realized he was lost. There were trees everywhere and no sign of the house. Fortunately, the dog knew his way back. Mac rewarded him with a Pup-Peroni stick.
Now at Jen’s, he wished he had catnip to entice Chike off her bed. The Savannah was territorial and unmoving. Mac rethought his plan to see her. Perhaps it was a stupid idea. He debated leaving. Sneaking out the way he’d come in would be easy. She would never know he’d been there. He wondered if the cats were tattletales.
He took one step back when Chike did the unthinkable. The Savannah pawed Jenna’s arm. Pawed her twice. Mac swore it was deliberate. Jen shifted and wakened slowly.
Seeing him, she looked startled as hell. She pushed up on one elbow and turned on the bedside lamp. The room was cast in a soft glow.
“Home invasion,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from sleep.
“You have bed head,” he said without thinking. “And pillow creases on your cheek.”
“You’re scruffy and dressed like a slob.”
There was nothing wrong with his T-shirt and jeans. They were the cleanest of his dirty clothes.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
She glanced at her alarm clock. “It’s two a.m.”
Time mattered little to Mac. At least she hadn’t screamed and brought the neighbors down on him. He lowered himself beside her. The queen-size mattress dipped and she tipped toward him. She caught herself before they touched.
Chike arched his back and climbed over Jen. The big cat sat on his haunches and showed his front claws. He hissed, a low guttural, attack sound. He mirrored Jenna’s mood.
They both hated him.
Mac doubted he and the cat would ever be friends. The best he could hope for was to make it to the door without scratches, teeth marks, and flying fur.
“Chike doesn’t like me,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Neither do I.” She met his gaze, her expression hostile. “How’d you get in here?” she asked.
“I have superpowers. I walk through walls.”
“Why did you wake me up?”
“Technically, Chike woke you,” he said. “Insomnia loves company.”
“You’re unbelievable. Go home.”
“Not before I apologize,” he said forcefully. “I’ve run our conversation at the Civic Center through my head a hundred times. I still have no idea what I said to tick you off. Whatever it was, I wish I could take it back.”
She stared, her expression tired but thoughtful. She gathered herself together and said, “You told everyone at the bazaar that I was attracted to you.”
“It was a joke,” he defended.
“It was our secret.”
He shrugged. “No one believed me.”
“The fact that you told anyone at all makes you untrustworthy.”
“Truth is, you don’t like me, babe, so what does it matter?”
There was a long pause during which she looked surprisingly unhappy and vulnerable. He was at a loss for words. She licked her lips and swallowed. The pulse at the base of her throat was visible. It raced.
Mac knew a heartbeat could quicken from anger, physical activity, or attraction. Jen was pissed at him, but something more beat beneath the surface. He looked deep into her eyes and saw her desire. “You do care,” he said, amazed.
“Not a chance.”
“You would never have been upset by my comment otherwise.”
She frowned, then flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “There’s a big difference between liking someone and lusting after them.”
“You want my body?” he asked.
“That’s yet to be determined.”
She had the hots for him. Her attraction was real. He now understood why she’d gotten upset and put him through hell. He had thought she was punking him at her shop when she’d shared her secret. He now knew she’d been serious. Surprise, surprise.
Smiling wasn’t appropriate, especially since Jen was despondent. She’d told him the truth and now expected him to use the information against her. She drew her forearm over her eyes and hid from him.
There’d be no hiding tonight.
He leaned closer, keeping one eye on Chike. He was going after the girl and didn’t want the cat coming after him.
“I came to hang out with you,” he said, “to hold you, to talk.”
“You came for sex.”
That, too. “Introduce me to your vibrators.”
“They’re tucked in for the night.”
“Then don’t wake them up. I give better buzz.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re bad for me, Mac.”
“I’m good in bed.”
“Arrogance isn’t sexy.”
“Confidence is.”
She exhaled so sharply her body went flat. She lowered her arm and patted the mattress. “I’ll regret this in the morning.”
“I won’t.”
He would’ve been all over her had it not been for Chike. The Savannah was a thirty-pound barrier. The cat’s ears flattened and his pupils constricted. His lips drew back. He arched and puffed up his hair, appearing bigger than he was. His tail lashed out and he gave a low, throaty yowl.
The cat’s warning was not lost on Mac. He wasn’t a wuss, but an attack cat gave him pause. He saw Chike as a challenge. He needed to get around the Savannah to get to Jen. She was enjoying his predicament and not helping him in the least, just taking it all in. He had no idea what to do. He had no experience around cats, especially ones with wild eyes.
He went on gut instinct. He would’ve given his left nut for a pair of thick, leather gloves, but all he had was skin. Having his arm ripped to shreds before the Huntington Beach Classic wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t play with his hand bandaged.
Wanting Jen won out. He’d brave the cat.
Son of a bitch.
Slowly, cautiously, he let Chike appraise his hand. Mac felt the twitch of the cat’s whiskers right before Chike bared his teeth and head-butted Mac’s palm. Butted him twice. The big boy swatted Mac’s wrist with one paw, then purred. Purred like a motorboat. A long jump and he cleared the bed, landing on the floor.
Mac’s jaw dropped. He watched the cat leave the bedroom. The Savannah had swagger. The other cats collected in the hallway, then disappeared into the darkness.
Mac slid off the bed and closed the door. He didn’t need Chike and his crew sneaking back in and scaring him soft in the middle of sex. He leaned against the doorjamb and caught his breath.
Jenna sent him a slow, sly smile. “You passed the Chike test,” she said, impressed. “He intimidates, but never bites. He’s a teddy bear at heart.”
A teddy bear with very sharp teeth.
His jaw worked. “You made me jump through cat hoops to get in your pants?”
“I’m not wearing panties.”
Her words stroked his dick. A twist of her hips and her nightshirt slid up to her abdomen. The sheet now wrapped her thighs and dipped between her legs. The cotton creased her sex. He was hard in a heartbeat.
He dragged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He toe-heeled his Converse. Then unsnapped, unzipped, and dropped his jeans.
Her eyes went wide. “No underwear?”
“Easy access.”
He retrieved six condoms from his wallet and returned to her bed. He dropped the Black Ice packets on her nightstand, one at a time. The sound of the silver foil wrappers against the unfinished grain of the wood was loud in the silence.
“You’re ambitious,” she said.
“I’m bred for stamina.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
He eased onto her bed and sank deep. The mattress was as soft as a goose down comforter. There was no immediate touching, only deep staring. He felt her heat. She was a woman of fire and passion and a royal pain in his ass. Still, he wanted her.
There’d be no sarcasm tonight. He’d kiss her until she didn’t have a thought in her head; much less the ability to speak. She had a kissable mouth. Lush, moist, and inviting. He nipped her lower lip and sucked gently.
She was his lightning strike. They sparked and sizzled from their first kiss. She closed her eyes and moaned. A woman’s moan, low with longing.
Arousal clutched his cock.
Anticipation jacked him even harder.
He made love to her with his mouth; his kisses were deep, thorough, and insistent. His tongue thrust between her lips, curled, tasted, seduced. She kissed him back, giving, taking, needing him.
He believed in the exchange of sexual favors.
He favored Jen. He wanted her satisfied.
He slid his hands beneath her nightshirt and felt her up. His thumb brushed her high, firm breast. He circled her nipple, then her navel with his forefinger. Sensation overtook her. She squirmed, shivered, and dug her nails into his shoulder.
Her nightshirt came off easily. The neck hole was wider than he remembered. No doubt he’d stretched the shirt when he wore it to the bazaar.
They were both naked now. He admired her bikini wax.
A brush of an arm, a turn of a leg, and friction rubbed their bodies together.
He took her way down deep into the mattress and covered her with his body. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in the cupcake scent of her lotion. Every part of his body sought its sexual mate. His chest pressed her breasts as his dick nestled between her thighs.
More kisses, more touching. More moans.
He embraced her and her soft sighs.
She wasn’t a woman to be held down long. She was strong for someone so small. Determined, too. She wiggled and squirmed. He let her escape. She pushed him onto his back. He willingly changed positions.
He hitched himself up against the headboard until he was sitting up. She then knelt between his legs, leaning up and into him. Her breath bathed his neck, his chest, his hip bones. Blood flowed to his groin when she breathed against his belly, then puffed warm air on his penis.
She took him in her mouth and his entire body twitched. The swirl of her tongue promised release.
His muscles bunched and his body burned.
His back arched and his hips came off the bed.
He clutched the sheet, strained, swelled, and went sexually insane. He was so hard he hurt.
Restraint nearly killed him. His willpower lost to his need to be inside her. He caught her by the upper arms and drew her up over his body. Her legs spread as she settled over his hips. He snagged a condom off the nightstand, stripped the wrapper, and sheathed himself.
She rocked forward then back, teasing his dick, yet refusing to take him fully. He curved his hands over her hips and squeezed her. His gut tightened. His urgency was raw, rushing, and intense.
His orgasm was dangerously close and he wanted her as wild and blind with passion as he was. Even more so, if that was humanly possible.
She looked down on him and one corner of her mouth curved. She wore a woman’s smile, one sly with intent. She went on to frustrate him further. She stroked his dick, holding him between her palms and rubbing her hands together. Friction and heat; slow, then fast. Air exploded in his lungs. Damn, he was about to die.
He refused to come without her. He ran his hands along her thighs until he reached her sex. He parted her and traced tiny circles around her *.
She was wet, slick, and ready for him when he palmed her mound and penetrated her with two fingers. She threw back her head and let him take her higher still. Pleasure flushed her body.
He withdrew his hand and slipped inside her, a slow streamlined motion of man into woman. Her ragged sigh ripped along his nerve endings where their bodies linked.
Jenna Cates was lost to this man. Mac was sex personified. She’d grown up at the beach and spent her life swimming, surfing, and sailing. She’d seen a lot of hot guys with buff bodies. No one came close to him. He was lean, ripped, and hotwired. He was charged with electricity. His sparks licked down her spine like a hot tongue.
She ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the flow and flex of his muscles. Her legs tightened around him. She thrust her fingers into his hair, pulling his face down for a kiss. He penetrated her mouth with his tongue.
They rolled their hips, and he pumped up into her as she rocked back and forth. He groaned deep in his throat when she rose up and down, releasing his cock, then drawing him inside her once again. She took him deeply.
He touched her everywhere, palming, squeezing, stroking. Her breasts grew heavy and her *oris tingled.
He raised his head and locked gazes with her. His blue eyes darkened; possessive and searing. His breathing became desperate.
A craving took hold of her and she began to unravel.
Time went away and her orgasm stretched to the breaking point. She moaned, stiffened. Shattered.
He came a second after her, his expression going from pain to pleasure. His ripping-hard climax drove her to a second orgasm. The aftershocks shook them both. They lay tangled and spent. The scent of sex lingered on the rumpled sheets.
Silence followed their sexual high. Neither one moved, neither one spoke. Neither chose to break their intimate truce.
He held her for a long, long time. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. They shared space. Breathed the same air.
It was then she realized her best friend Bree had been right. Every woman deserved a lover like Mac in her life.
Even for one night.