“Not,” he stressed humorously, “for any other reason than you need him with you at night.”
Cassidy dismissed it; taken aback. “I’d just be going to the Trading Post; I’m fine.”
He tilted his head. “You not paying attention these days?” He tossed down his fork and sat back again, daring her to downplay.
She didn’t want a lecture. She looked over at Fred, watching her back. It really did feel like discussing the custody of a child. “Fine,” she agreed.
He nodded once. Matter settled.
He was awfully bossy when it came to her for someone who claimed he was only interested in her dog. She wondered if he ordered Darlene around like he did her. But she already knew the answer: no. She had trouble with the boundaries because she didn’t know where they were until she accidentally stepped across one.
He tookcareof her in little ways. He-Man, Neanderthal ways, sure, but didn’t that still mean something? And why did she want it to mean anything?
“Wanna shower?”
His voice interrupting her thoughts, her eyes widened, interpreting the question as an invitation to join him. And she wasn’t opposed to the suggestion, her breath catching. That had escalated quickly.
Mac pushed his plate aside, looking over at her for an answer, giving her a double-take. At the stunned expression on his face, she realized she’d misread the moment. Her cheeks blazed red as she dropped eye contact—holy shit, not what he’d meant.
She heard the smile in his voice as he said, “Learned my lesson on telling you no.”
Her color deepened. A pained expression crossed her face as she turned on the chair, intending to slide off it to wait out on the porch. “Learned my lesson, too.” She was referencing the last time they’d been in his bathroom together.
As she stood, Mac shot out of his chair and grasped her waist, pulling her snugly against him. “We both want it.” He lowered his head to her neck, below her ear, applying his lips in the way that had her gasping and shuddering against him. “And don’t forget, I have your fucking trigger.”
“That’s not fair.” But she made no move to get out of his arms.
“What’s not fair is I’ve been sitting here with a damn hard-on talking about fucking doggie daycare,” he huffed in her ear. “You’re getting naked. I’m fucking you.” Grasping her chin, he tilted her head back and raised an eyebrow. “In or out?”
She searched his eyes for something other than lust; she couldn’t see it. She answered anyway, “In.”
Triumph flashed in his eyes, and he bent, grasping her around the waist. “Up.”
Arms around his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist, the truth of his words pressed against her; he was hard. Her body burst into anticipatory flames at the contact. Or more truthfully, the blaze was set loose; she was always on a low simmer around Mac, waiting for the iron to strike… puns aside.
He carried her into the bathroom. As they crossed the threshold, she couldn’t disguise the anxiousness creeping into her eyes that there would be a repeat of what had happened last time.
Her eyes followed the frame of the door as if it were symbolic of the boundary they were crossing. When her gaze flicked back down, she found him watching her, reading her as though privy to every thought in her head.
“Said it wouldn’t happen again. Fucking meant it.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“Don’t think you do,” he countered.
“You cut deep. Intentionally,” she reminded him. She watched his expression, his eyes, as he worked through various responses, throwing them out as quickly as they came to mind, the words refusing to form. But she also saw the regret he too easily tampered behind his usual smirk.
“Then I’d better fuck it right,” he said.
Not what he was going to say, and she wanted to know what had cycled through his mind, but this was Mac. He wasn’t going to give her sentiment; feelings. No, he was going tofuck it right. Trying to push aside her trepidation to concentrate on the renewed thrill his promise sent through her, she offered a tremulous smile. “You’d better.”
And he did. He threw her in the shower under the spray, not caring they were both still clothed, chuckling at her squeal when she was doused with water. He kissed her with zeal, his hands slipping in determination under her rapidly soaking clothes for flesh as he crowded her against the wall.
He consumed her, stripped her of air, of reason, left her engulfed in flames, in pleasure. Mac’s kiss, his touch, was heady, powerful, and her clothes were still on her, irritatingly clinging, keeping her from pressing her hot, naked skin against his when that was all she wanted. His mouth was on hers, his hand cradling her head, and she was holding on, rising on her tippytoes to be as close as she could while his arm around her waist held her even tighter. If the water had been gasoline, the room would have exploded.
Cassidy had never been so impatient to have a man inside her before; it was a need; a desperate, not-above-tearing-his-pants-from-him need. To get her to her goal, she skated her fingernails down his chest, causing him to hiss in approval against her lips, only to bite her bottom lip. She finally reached the button of his jeans.
With a grin and a dark twinkle in his eyes, he looked down to watch her determined face as she unzipped his jeans and pulled at the denim with one hand while attempting to make room for her other hand, grasping the smooth hardness of him. Her impatience and tugging had him swaying toward her.