So now was not the time to take him to task on defining what they were to one another; on insisting they were more. Instead, she injected levity into the conversation. “Well, thank god it’s just neighbors and not friends because I’m still not sure I like you.”
His eyes glittered with amusement as he looked at her. “You fucking adore me.”
It was true, but she scoffed and moved away from her perch on the far wall, taking the few steps toward the ladder. “This space just became suffocating with your ego.”
Mac blocked her, pulling her to him about her waist, ducking his head to nip her ear. “You done being mad? Can we fuck now?”
“Jesus, Mac! No!” She pushed against him with her hands even as her hips, of their own accord, ground against his.
A knowing smile breaking across his face, he dropped his lips lower on her neck, accompanied by his own roll of the hips, and she practically collapsed in his arms on a shuddering breath. “You were saying?”
“I hate that you know that about me,” she gasped, referring to the erogenous zone he’d discovered that turned her to putty in his hands.
Catching her eye, he pointed out devilishly, “Only works if you want it to; it’s more you than me.”
Color stained her cheeks as she dropped her gaze, causing him to groan. “It’s like you’re begging me.” And he caught her mouth with his; urgent, fierce, hungry.
She didn’t deny him; in fact, she matched his fervor until a furry body bumped against her leg. She jerked away. “No! Not in front of Fredagain!”
Mac laughed. “He really doesn’t know, but…” He patted Fred’s head. “Sorry, buddy.”
The next thing Fred knew, he was standing by himself on the aft deck with a bowl of water shoved hastily after him.
Chapter forty-eight
Cassidy
CYBERSECURITY
Macboughttheboat.He joked he didn’t have a choice after she broke it while he defiled her on every surface below deck; it was the only decent thing to do. She’d shaken her head but sat patiently—sated, comfortably sore—in the Scout with the windows rolled down as he and Devin went over the paperwork, using the hood of the vehicle as a desk.
Fred panted from the backseat, having forgiven them for exiling him. Cassidy thought being left alone was the more humane of the choices.
Mac had been thorough and rough and insatiable. The table was sturdy; they’d tested it. First with her laying on it, legs on his shoulders as he’d drilled into her, then with him kneeling on it as she lay on the mattress, spread for him as his mouth and fingers worked magic. Her heel had kicked the aluminum sideboard so hard as she’d come she left a small dent. That’s what he’d referred to when he said she broke the boat.
Cassidy had told him it could be easily popped back out, but he’d grinned like it was a medal and swore, “Never. Memories in that dent.”
And then, of course, the mattress. He’d insisted on testing it for comfort, for—as he’d put it—range of motion. For the record, there’d been plenty, with each taking their turns on top. He’d enjoyed it when she braced her hands on the ceiling over them, riding him, declaring he’d have her riding him like that every night; that’d become his new favorite thing.
She would have laughed at him, but it was her new favorite thing, too, having him buck up into her with that look in his eyes.
In front of her, Devin said something, causing Mac to step back and laugh. One hand on his cocked hip, his dark eyes flicked up to her. Catching her gaze, he winked before returning to the business of money and boat transport. He looked relaxed, confident in the advice she’d given him, seeing the little-boy-enthusiasm over buying a boat.
An explosion went off inside her: excitement, lust, just the thrill of his attention. Her entire being ached for him. Literally hurt, like he was a physical need.
It didn’t matter that they didn’t make sense together: his trauma, her losses. She was getting better, crawling out of her deep hole. She could feel it; sense it. She hadn’t slipped in a while. She’d only raced to the lake in the middle of the night once since him.
Dropping her head, she picked at her thumbnail.
Not fair to put her recovery on him, especially when he had his own to overcome. If he ever did. What had Jason said? The therapy hadn’t taken?
One thing the two men agreed on: Mac hadn’t always been the asshole he is now. She was learning; she’d seen glimpses of the old Mac. He was still in there; he hadn’t been so suppressed he no longer existed.
The Mac she knew, the one who stood before her, Cassidy found herself needing physically, there was no question. She even liked him. But Mac as he’d been…
That Mac could own her heart.
The realization came with a pang of guilt.