Before she could, however, Mac let out a sharp whistle, and her dog bounded over to the front seat and exited the driver’s side as though he’d done so a hundred times. With a huff, she headed toward her house.
Fred happily loped along, eyeing her closely as he trotted beside her. He looked as suspicious as the man behind them, following them toward the house. It was as if they were both ready for her to collapse.
Shoving the door open, she paused as he loomed over her. “I didn’t invite you in.”
Grabbing her arm, he propelled her across the threshold. “I’m your knight in shining fucking armor; I don’t need an invitation.”
She choked, stumbling as he dragged her to her sofa. “You are so freaking arrogant!”
With little more than a shove, she found herself on the cushions. He presented a finger in front of her face. “Stay!”
Cassidy stared up at him in disbelief from her semi-reclining position, the thrumming in her body having nothing to do with dehydration. The order was clear, and this time she recognized it as a command. Shaky as she was, she didn’t mind the directive, more than happy to find relief sagging against the cushions, but it irked her that he determined he had the authority to demand her compliance. Her childish response was to pretend to bite at his finger.
Mac’s eyebrow rose. “Dangerous territory you’re getting into.”
She held her breath. For the first time since he’d stopped his car, innuendo laced his voice. A more thorough inventory of her attire and what flesh was presented to him accompanied his words, as though she chose the lycra for his viewing pleasure. A hard jolt between her legs set off a steady throbbing.
Angry that he could do this to her after he rejected her so humiliatingly, she kicked out at him. Her sneakered foot landed on his upper thigh, dangerously close to the part he was most proud of—for good reason, she had to concede. He jerked back a step and grasped her offending ankle, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Is this the thanks I get?”
In a move she could only describe as martial arts, she felt her leg manipulated, and her entire body flipped, so she was lying on her stomach. Her startled scream barely ripped from her throat from the movement when she was shrieking in protest over the sharp spank he delivered to her bottom.
Good god, she’d never beenspanked!What the ever-loving hell!
“Now act your fucking age,” he insisted as he walked away.
Away fromher, but toward her kitchen. He wasn’t leaving. Defeated again, she dropped her head onto the sofa and laid there, the dueling sensations of stinging behind and pulsing core all she had to concentrate on. She heard him opening cabinets and slamming them shut again with low curses. The refrigerator door opened, and a moment of contemplative silence followed.
With a grunt, he must have conceded to whatever he found within. Seconds later, he was back, standing over her. “Roll over.”
Everything about his delivery made her want to fight him—battling with a darker part of her brain thrilled by the rough treatment—but he’d proven with minimal effort she wasn’t in a condition to best him. So she heaved a sigh and pushed herself up on her arms, shifting to sit up. He thrust a glass of orange juice in her face.
“Drink this.”
“Please, thank you,” she mumbled, taking the glass from him, shooting a glare up to his stoic face. She hated that even pissed off, he was gorgeous and exuded raw sexuality, his eyes molten, like rivers of hot cocoa. “Oh my god, I’m hallucinating.”
Mac dropped to a squat in front of her as she drank the orange juice. “When’s the last time you ate, and don’t give me shit about asking.”
Her hand shook while she held the glass so she didn’t try to deny she was probably suffering from low blood sugar. “I had a croissant today.”
“Today.”
“This morning?”
“Is that a question?”
Cassidy frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not hungry. I’m not starving myself. I’m just not…” Her eyes watered, and her chin trembled. Glaring, she hid behind the glass of orange juice. None of this was his business anyway, and he didn’t want it to be his business.
“Day.”
She snapped out to stop whatever he was going to say, “No! I’m sorry you happened on me when you did, and thank you for bringing me home, but I’m fine. You can go.”
His gaze hardened, not appreciating the dismissal.
Cassidy almost asked how he liked it, being asked to leave, but she held her tongue.
“You can throw any kind of fit you want, but I’m not leaving until I see you eat something.”