Another smaller explosion rocked the building. He cursed, turning so she was protected against the bricks in an attempt to shield her. She squeaked, but it wasn’t clear if it was from the noise or from being jostled against the wall.
“Need to get out of here,” Mac said into her ear, lowering his hand to her hip to urge her away, a silent request for her to get on her feet.
Still hiding her face against his neck, her grip tightened. “Not letting go.”
Any other time, he’d be flattered. “I get it, spider woman, but I need to get you somewhere safe. Easier to walk.”
He got a smack on the back of his head.
He tried another tactic. “Your ass is out, and I have to walk you through this town.” It was true; the moment she crawled up into his arms, the short skirt of her dress had ridden up around her buttocks. Again, at any other time, he would have admired her cute little pink lace panties.
“I don’t care,” she mumbled. “Mac, please.”
He took a few steps away from the wall, looking around cautiously, aware of the danger. “Please what,?”
“Please don’t leave me.”
Mac’s brow raised. Considering she was plastered to him and the Jaws of Life couldn’t pry her off, it wasn’t likely. But something in her had broken, so he replied, “Stuck with me, Day.” Stuckonme would have been more appropriate, but he wasn’t going to get into semantics.
The street was filling with rubberneckers. He could get across it, down the opposite alley, and walk up the marina to his boat; could get her home. “I’m going to the boat.”
Rubbing her back again as he started moving, he attempted to pull her skirt down over her butt. It wasn’t so much for her modesty as it was for his own selfish possessiveness; he didn’t want to share.
But he needn’t have worried about an audience; he and Cassidy weren’t the attraction bringing everyone to the streets, and he moved through the people. They were only noticed when they blocked someone’s view.
Once he got to the boat, he climbed aboard with her; whatever trauma she was experiencing, she wasn’t going to snap out of it because he needed to untie the boat. He walked to the back bench and sat down.
“Look at me,” he urged gently, trying to put some distance between them.
Cassidy pulled back, the red rims around her hazel eyes making them seem a bright green. Moving her hands, she grasped his face and said, “You can’t do that to me again. I can’t go through this again.”
His expression fell into one of regret and shared anguish. “Day—”
“No, Mac,” she growled. “I know I’m not supposed to say it, I know I’m not supposed to feel it, but I do. And I… I just…” Shifting, she lifted up on her knees, pressing herself to him. “I need you to not say anything; I need you inside me. I want you inside me. I need to feel you inside me.” One hand was already traveling down his neck, his chest. “Please.”
No near-death experience would keep his cock from responding to her touch—quite the opposite, in fact. He wanted validation of being alive, too, especially from her hands and in her body. But Jesus, he needed to catch up to what the fuck she was talking about. “What are you—?”
She leaned forward and scraped her teeth against his jaw. “I need you.”
He didn’t doubt her sincerity or her desperation; he just wasn’t sure of her motivation. Was it him, or was it the trauma triggering a memory? He knew a little bit about that, after all. “Sweetheart.” His breath caught as she grasped him through his pants.
“Please,” she begged again, tongue now licking along his neck.
He glanced at the camera on the marina. “Cassidy…”
“Now!” she insisted, her hand reaching the top of his pants and tugging at the belt.
Looking into her desperate eyes, all thoughts of delay or denial fled. “Yes, ma’am.” Marge and Silas would have to look the other way or sell the damn tape; he didn’t care. Day needed him as much as he needed her.
Giving in to her—them both—he gripped the back of her head and yanked her forward, his mouth devouring hers, his tongue sweeping in. She made a squeak of surrender under the onslaught, falling against him, her hands working with his to free him from his pants as she was already positioning herself over him.
Their lips parted as his hard cock sprung forth, their eyes meeting for a heated second before he looked between them. Shoving her panties to the side, he didn’t even prepare her—she didn’t need or want it—as he watched her settle over him. Grasping her buttock, he pulled her down onto him as he lifted into her, eyes rolling into the back of his head from her heat, how wet she was for him, how fuckingat homehe felt inside of her.
Cassidy let out another gasping squeak as she took him in in one go; not a choice. She was on a mission, and he wasn’t complaining. Her fingers dug into his shoulders hard. There was no pausing for either one of them; this was an instinct, a need, a driving force. He gripped her ass as he slammed her down on his cock over and over, impaling her brutally, no doubt leaving bruises.
It was fast; it was violent; it was nirvana.
Hands on his chest, her cheeks flushed, the violent friction sent her tumbling down the rabbit hole. Her head would have dropped back if he hadn’t been holding it. She cried out.