There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as he regarded her. He studied her, her lips, her body, noting both her increased arousal at his delay and her concern. On the verge of breaking down and demanding he touch her, he blinked. Pushing away from her, he simultaneously used his other hand to shove open the screen door.
“Go home, Cassidy.”
Her eyes widened as she gawked at him. “What?” Surely she’d heard him wrong.
“Go on; go home.” He jerked his chin toward the door.
Not moving, a hot rush washing over her this time having nothing to do with desire, she stared in disbelief. Was herejectingher? “I don’t understand. You screw anything that moves.”
His jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed. “Cassidy, go home and don’t come back again for this.”
For this.For sex. He didn’t wanther.
Jerking away from the door, humiliated tears leaping into her eyes and almost blinding her, she reminded him angrily, “You asshole! You told me to come to you. Why? For this? So you can get your rocks off by embarrassing me?”
Mac didn’t answer her. He stared until she flung herself out the door with a last, “You fucking prick!” Fred hustled to get to his feet and follow her down the steps of the cabin.
Her fury turned to shame by the time she reached her house. She couldn’t remember being so humiliated before. That he would lead her on in such a manner, get her to admit the things she’d admitted—to wanting him—then kick her out… it was disgusting.
Cruel.
Devastating.
Karma.
She went immediately to her bathroom, ripping her clothes off, wanting to pull on her cami and crawl under the covers and disappear. She didn’t understand the why of it—after so many women. Why did she repulse him? Why did he sendher away?
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she answered her own question. Her hip bones were more prominent than they used to be. Her collar bones stood out in sharper contrast. Granted, she had her boobs and hips, but how many times had he told her that she was too skinny—that she needed to eat something? The women she’d seen him with weren’t waifs; he liked curves, he liked flesh. He liked real women.
“No,” she said to herself, meeting her gaze in the mirror, “thisdoesn’t send you backward.Hedoesn’t get to do that to you.”
She grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
There would be no more sliding.
Chapter fifteen
Mac
THE FUCKING KICKER
“Fuck.Fuck!”
Mac grabbed his chair and threw it across kitchen.
Why couldn’t he have fucked her? She wanted it, was here begging for it, as he’d predicted. And he sent her home.
Sent her home thinking he didn’t want to push between her thighs, didn’t want to bury himself in her, have her silky walls milk him until they were both sweaty, screaming, and spent. She’d damn near come from his voice. Just from him asking her if she wanted him. He hadn’t even touched her and she was responding.
Imagine how she’d react when he did put his hands on her. Jesus, she’d be a firecracker. His cock leaped forth in anticipation.
That wasn’t likely to happen now, was it? She’d fled, calling him an asshole and a prick—not that he wasn’t—but for once in his fucking life, he’d done the right thing by sending her away.
Not the right thing forhim, judging by his miserable and lonely hard-on, but for her.
She didn’t see it that way.
This was what happened when he learned about someone’s backstory. This is what happened when Jason fucking meddled and turned into the male version of Oprah and told him to leave her alone.