Mac chuckled. “Sweetheart, you are not a beer girl. Stick to your wine.”
Cassidy couldn’t disagree with him because he was right. He reached out for the bottle, her heart leaping when his fingers brushed hers in the process. She asked, “How’s your hand?”
Still looking at her in guarded amusement as he relaxed back, he asked, “Is that why you came over here, to ask about my hand?” Without lifting his elbow from the planks, he held up his right hand for her scrutiny. In the darkness, it appeared fine.
Cassidy swallowed and flicked her gaze to Fred. “I lost my dog.”
He called her out. “Didn’t lose your dog. Fred doesn’t randomly run off.” He tilted his head as he asked in feigned innocence, “Did you send your dog over here?”
Dropping her gaze, Cassidy didn’t answer him.
“What do you want, Day?” His tone told her he knew. It also told her she was going to have to ask.
Arrogant jerk.
She turned her head and pretended to study the lake. Where had her bravado gone from moments ago? Her determination to not exist in thesafeanymore? Heart banging painfully from both trepidation and that which he naturally did to her, she looked back at him before she asked haltingly, “Please don’t send me away this time?”
Her breath came out in a rush before she sucked it back in, waiting to see if he would grant her request as he sat staring at her. Dropping her gaze again, her skin heated in what she assumed was a full-body blush. She would never be able to face him again if he turned her away. Forget running when she saw him—she’d have to move.
Mac sat forward, abandoning the bottle, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look at me.”
Oh, that didn’t sound good.
Cassidy tucked her bottom lip in and bit, bringing her arms up to hug herself as she hesitantly lifted her eyes to his. She flinched; he looked so confident, in control, and she knew she had to look skittish in comparison—a mess—a hot mess, as he liked to point out. Whywouldhe want her?
So she rushed into trying to explain herself before he could deny her, “It’s just that—”
“I’m not your priest; don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted. “And I’m not gonna tell you what you want to hear anyway. All I need to know is if you’re here to get fucked. That’s the extent of my interest. If not, you can high-tail it out of here. I don’t need to know why you’re pretending to be the Little Mermaid in the middle of the night.”
She was taken aback; she hadn’t expected… cooperation? But she managed to stutter, “Y-yes.”
He continued, “You aren’t signing up for exclusive rights. I fuck anything I want, whenever I want. But as long as I’m with you, I’mwith you.”
Cassidy half-scoffed. “Jesus, is there a contract?”
Mac chuckled. “Just so we’re clear. You want to fuck? I’ll fuck you. But you’re one of many.”
“You are so short on charm.” Fact. Looks, he had for days. Charm? In the negatives.
“You aren’t here for charm. You want charm, go find a man at Pottery Barn.”
“That sort of rhymes.”
“Take off your panties,” he ordered, impatience in his tone, his eyes dropping to where the item would be beneath the skirt of her dress, the object of his attention pulsing forth viciously.
Holy shit. And that was with a look and an order.
With a sharp intake of breath, her fear came back twofold; fear clashing with a raging need and a rush of wetness between her legs. She might have misjudged; he might be too much for her. Not in the,I’m going to fall for you, but in the,I don’t know if I can handle you, sense. She and Elijah had been a match.
Christ, did she need to think of her husband at a time like this?
At her hesitation, Mac flicked his eyes back up to her, his narrowing as he seemed to read her. And that quickly, he dialed back his intensity. Magically. But the heat remained; it crackled in the air.
Dropping out a hand to her, he said evenly, “Your rodeo.”
Mixed blessing, him giving her control. On the one hand, she would set the pace; on the other, she wanted to rely on him to guide her through this. It’d been so long. But when she reached down and took his hand, the strength and warmth of his fingers transferring to her as they closed around hers, she realized this wasMac Boyer. There was no way he wasn’t in control.
The light tug on her hand felt like a yank into another dimension. A hiss of current raced through her at his slightest touch. She moved off the rail, taking a step toward him on the stairs. He was looking up, watching her, searching for any sign of indecision. He wouldn’t find it. She wanted this, wanted him. There was no mistaking the electricity in the air arcing between them.