Life wasn’t that easy.
Mac came to the screen door, his brows drawing together as he studied her through the screen. “You okay?” His hands were in the pockets of his jeans; his shirt stretched across his chest. He usedthatvoice, the one she’d heard once before, the last time he’d asked her the same question.
She faltered; what a way to start the conversation.No, Mac, I need you to do for me what you do for those women; I need you to take me out of my head, to remove me from this earth if even for one minute. Please be what everyone says you are.
She tried to play it off casually. “Of course. Why?”
He continued to scrutinize her. “It’s after one in the morning.”
She blinked; well, she hadn’t realized the time. Crap. Holding up his shirt, she offered the excuse, “I was doing laundry; this is yours.”
His gaze shifted to the shirt in her hands, expression blank. Then he tilted his head, taking in her outfit, his eyes moving down and up in the manner that made her feel as though he was touching her. Her body sizzled as though he was dragging his hands along her flesh.
“You normally dress like that when you do laundry in the middle of the night?”
Cassidy looked down at her outfit, tongue-tied.
“You normallydolaundry in the middle of the night?”
“I was up.”
He parroted skeptically, “You were up.”
“You’reup.“ She rejoined defensively, her resolve crumbling in the face of his questions. She gestured with the shirt. “Do you want it or not?”
Mac pushed open the screen door, his expression remaining inscrutable. She stepped to the threshold, handing over his shirt. He took it without relinquishing eye contact and tossed it on the table.
She watched his careless discard of it and waved a hand in irritation. “If I’d known you were going to toss it aside, I wouldn’t have bothered cleaning it.”
Bracing his arm on the frame over her head, the screen door resting on her shoulder, he leaned in, forcing her back against the wood beneath him. He asked, low and quiet, “What are you doing here?”
The air shifted; became electric.
Cassidy lifted her gaze to his. Her heart was racing so hard she was certain he could hear it; he could see the pulse in her neck hammering away. Her cheeks were undoubtedly a permanent shade of deep red. She licked her dry lips, a gesture he tracked with a lifted eyebrow. She took in a shaky breath to respond, but she couldn’t find her voice.
Dropping his head closer, his breath racing along her neck as he spoke, he asked, “Are you curious, Day?”
Biting her lower lip, she tipped her face up to meet his simmering gaze. She nodded, the movement setting off another level of sensation, knowing what she admitted in that gesture. But of course, he already knew.
“I need your words.”
“Yes,” she answered in a whisper, because it was all she could get out past her empty lungs and exploding heart.
Her eyes his captive, he moved his head again slightly, his lips hovering near hers but not quite touching; she could feel the heat of them, from him, but he didn’t touch her. It was maddening. “You want me? Want me to touch you?” he asked.
She lost her breath at the direct questions and had to pant to get it back, making her dizzy. Her legs nearly buckled beneath her, and if the door frame hadn’t been behind her, she would have hit the floor. Her whole body was warm and tingling, the heat between her legs, all proof of how much she wanted him. His dark eyes bored into her, not missing a detail, knowing her answers before she spoke them. She’d never been more consumed by someone who had yet to lay a hand on her.
“Yes.” Again, breathless and barely audible.
He assessed her once again. He took in the rapid rising and fall of her chest, her hardened nipples well-defined beneath the thin material of the romper, her pulse, her hands gripping the hem of her shorts as a way to keep them from pulling at him. She trembled with arousal, but there was something else. And he noticed it, too.
Staring intently into her eyes, he asked, “Are you scared?”
She answered, “A little.”
One eye twitched. He considered her lips, studying—contemplating?—before meeting her gaze again. “Have you been drinking?”
The question threw her, but she answered, “Wine.”