“I can take care of that.” He wrenched the wheel, sending her sprawling across his lap. “Now, that’s much better.”
Pulling into a parking garage, he drove to the top floor, past a smattering of parked cars to a dark corner between a concrete pillar and the wall. “So whaddya think, honey? Will this do?”
Oh, God, would it ever. Just get me naked now. “I never knew you had a thing for public sex.”
“I have a thing for all kinds of sex, and I can’t make it home without tasting you first.” Bruiser shot her his panty-dropping smile, and she melted all over him like chocolate left on a dashboard on a sunny day. Taking a quick glance around, he leaned over the console and hiked her skirt up to her waist in front.
“Nice,” he said as he gazed down at her lacy pink underwear. “Do you wear panties like this under your work clothes? ’Cause if you do, I’ll never be able to work out when you’re in the vicinity without imagining a more horizontal workout.”
She nodded, mute but fired up for action. Bruiser put a gentle hand on her chin. She parted her lips and waited. He didn’t let her down. He kissed one corner of her mouth and licked his way to the other corner before he took her mouth with a full-on frontal assault. His lips pressed against hers, and his glorious blond stubble rubbed across her face. His kiss was hot, hard, and demanding, full of promise and full of expectations. She so wanted to meet those expectations. The pretty boy and the plain girl. What a weird pair. What a perfect pair. Chemistry worked in mysterious ways.
Bruiser cupped the back of her head as he deepened the kiss like he wanted to eat her up. His other hand didn’t stay idle. He slipped it under the crotch of her panties and found her wet and willing. Pulling back for a moment, Bruiser offered a slow, knowing smile.
“You’re wet for me.”
Mac nodded and pulled his face back to hers, marauding his mouth like a female conqueror. Bruiser didn’t protest, not one damn bit. His finger slipped deep inside her, and he moved it in and out while his tongue made love to her mouth.
Just when she was certain she’d die, the tease stopped kissing her. Mac moaned in protest until he pulled her legs across the console, grasped her waist, and lifted her hips into the air. With her legs draped across his shoulders, he held her crotch to his face and began to feast.
And oh my God, did he feast. Mac turned into a limp rag doll, not caring that the console pressed into her back and her toes were hitting the driver’s-side window. Nothing mattered, and any amount of discomfort made it all worth it to have Bruiser’s face buried between her legs.
He slipped his tongue between her folds and plunged it deep while sucking her juices. Reinserting his finger, Bruiser used it along with his tongue to drive her to the brink of insanity, up, up, up, until she swore she’d die because no mortal female could survive such heavenly torture.
And he wasn’t done yet. He added another finger, while his tongue circled then sucked on her clit, over and over. Circle. Suck. Circle. Suck.
Despite her discomfort, Mac squeezed her eyes shut and clung to the seat as waves of pleasure rolled through her body like an ocean tide on a stormy day.
Mac’s body convulsed with senseless pleasure. Bruiser was unrelenting. He kept up the pressure and drove her deep into an abyss of desire she didn’t know was possible. The pressure built up until she had to release it or die. Mac cried out and wrapped her legs around his neck while the most mind-blowing, incredible orgasm slammed into her with a fierce intensity.
Bruiser repositioned her, holding her to him until the shudders subsided and she floated safely back to the rational world. When she finally met his gaze, he kissed her, and she tasted herself on him.
“Wow.” That was all she could manage to say.
“There’s more to come. Halftime entertainment is over. Let’s finish this game.” Bruiser helped her lower her shaky body back into her seat. She fumbled with the seat belt and closed her eyes as he drove out of the parking garage into the waning daylight.
Mac couldn’t wait to get home to a more conventional place to do the real thing, but she suspected there would be nothing conventional about sex with Bruiser, even if it was in a bed after dark, just as there was nothing conventional about the man himself. All day she’d seen glimpses of the real man under the shallow persona, revealing more than Mac wanted to know about him. Knowing more might make her fall deeper, might make her crush more real, might do some irreparable damage—damage she couldn’t afford.
* * * * *
Bruiser turned down Mac’s street, ready for round three, the round where he buried himself inside her willing body, and Mac delivered a knockout punch that rendered them both winners. He’d sat on his annoying conscience and kept it muffled so it was only a slight nagging presence. With his mother and sister, he’d become a pro at shutting out nagging—but then most men with women in their lives could most likely say the same damn thing.
Right now, his cock had assumed command, and none of his other body parts, including his brain, had any interest in an uprising. Yeah, the only thing rising would be his dick. Bruiser couldn’t wipe the stupid-assed grin from his face. He’d waited too long for Mac, and he rarely waited for any woman.
Only—crap. Double crap. Fuck. Damn.
Bruiser couldn’t believe his eyes. He pounded his fist on the dashboard in frustration. A pickup was parked in Mac’s driveway. “What the fuck?” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Mac’s hand went to her mouth and she glanced guiltily at him, disappointment dulling her brown eyes. “I completely forgot that I’d promised my dad that I’d go with him tonight.”
“Well, hell.” That just about said it all. “How long do you think he’s been waiting for you?”
“He’s probably been here all day stalking the neighbors.”
“Stalking your neighbors?”
Mac sighed as if she didn’t want to go there, but Bruiser did, dammit. If his night was going to be abruptly cut short, he wanted the details—every damn last one of them.
“Mac, why would he stalk your neighbors?”
“Because that was Will’s house, and Sonja and Ben live there now.”
“Your brother’s ex-wife—the woman you suspect murdered him—lives next door to you? You never told me that part.”
“Twisted, isn’t it?”
“A little,” he admitted.
“I’m not moving. These two properties belonged to my great-grandparents, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Sonja drive me off my birthright. She goes before I do.”
“I get it.” Bruiser really did, yet living with that constant reminder might make family ties not worth it. Talk about overwhelming drama the average person didn’t need.
“So your father expects you to go with him tonight? This late?” Bruiser shook his head, attempting to clear out the haze.
“He won’t care how late it is as long as Trudy is still at the bar.”
“Is she his girlfriend?” Bruiser felt like he’d missed the most important episode of a TV series and had no frame of reference as to what the hell was going on.
“I wish it were that simple.” Mac rubbed her temple as if she had a raging headache. “He thinks Trudy, Sonja’s former best friend, knows something and is ready to spill the beans. I don’t buy it. She’s just milking him for money.”
“So I guess our night is over then.” Bruiser let out a disappointed sigh and parked in the driveway behind her father’s pickup. Disappointment didn’t quite cover it. Sure, he was damn disappointed about not getting any more action tonight, but deeper down in that place he never went, especially with women, he enjoyed her company and wasn’t ready to go home to his lonely condo.
“Probably. Here comes Dad now.” Small consolation, but at least Mac sounded as miserable as he felt.
Mac’s father strode across the yard and rushed to the passenger door and flung it open. “Mac, have you been following up on something? Did you find out anything new?” Mac’s dad
didn’t acknowledge Bruiser. The man’s bloodshot eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity. Not a competitive intensity like Bruiser was accustomed to seeing, more like a guy on the verge of a one-way trip to the nuthouse. His unkempt hair and wrinkled clothes only punctuated Bruiser’s initial assessment.
“I went to lunch at Bruiser’s mother’s house. I forgot about our plans.” Mac glanced nervously at Bruiser, as if she wished he’d leave rather than bear witness to her family failings. Well, she’d had her shot with his dysfunctional family, and Bruiser wasn’t going anywhere. Fair was fair.
“We always have plans on weekends. You know that.” Her father glanced at Bruiser as if he’d just noticed him, then turned back to Mac, obviously disinterested in anything that didn’t have to do with his lost son. “We still have plenty of time. Trudy’s caving; I can just feel it. We’re on the verge of something.”
With a heavy sigh, Mac interrupted her father’s ramblings. “Bruiser, this is my dad, Craig Hernandez. Dad, this is Bruiser Mackey.”
Craig blinked a few times, scratched his cheek, and squinted at Bruiser. “I know you. You were Will’s favorite player. He liked how you play balls to the wall with no concern for your own safety. Will was like that, too, you know.”
Bruiser nodded, casting Mac a look that said, Is this guy okay? She lifted one shoulder and said nothing. Mac got out of the car, and Bruiser debated whether or not to beat cleats or stay for the long haul.
“Bruiser, thanks for the ride.”
She wasn’t getting rid of him that easily no matter how uncomfortable what they’d just done in his SUV might make her.
“Come with us. A fresh set of eyes is always welcome. You might catch something we’ve missed,” Craig said.
“Dad, Bruiser has better things to do.” Mac shot him a look that said, Just leave.
“I, uh, I doubt I’d be much help.” Bruiser hesitated, torn between a stubborn inclination to stick around and his don’t-get-involved mantra.
“Of course you will.” Craig wasn’t taking no for an answer, that was pretty obvious.
Tossing a tough-shit grin at Mac, Bruiser nodded and followed her father to the pickup. Reluctantly, Mac followed and got in the back seat. Bruiser settled in the passenger seat, hoping like hell they didn’t smell too much like sex. Not that it mattered. Craig seemed completely oblivious to anything that didn’t have to do with Will.
Several minutes later, they walked into a greasy spoon with an equally dreary bar. Mac and Bruiser both headed straight for the bathrooms to wash their hands. When Bruiser came out, Craig was seated at a table in the bar, along with Mac. Bruiser ordered a whiskey. Since he wasn’t driving, he might as well see if drinking would relieve some of the sexual frustrations currently hammering his body.
Trudy turned out to be a stereotypical waitress, right down to the bleached blonde hair, gum chewing, and tight clothes. She latched on to Bruiser like a woman who’d won the Mega Millions. Bruiser didn’t much like being anyone’s lottery prize, but the irritation flashing in Mac’s eyes goaded him on. She didn’t want him here, and that hurt for reasons he couldn’t explain.
When Trudy left to fill their drink order, Craig nudged Bruiser. “She’s interested in you. Play along and see if you can get any info out of her.”
“Dad, please, don’t get Bruiser involved in this.” Mac pursed her lips together, her narrowed gaze sliding from her father to Bruiser.
“He doesn’t mind, do you, son?” Craig stared at him with such desperation, Bruiser couldn’t say no, even though Craig’s suggestion had Mac almost gnashing her teeth.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Bruiser smiled innocently at Mac. Maybe next time she’d think twice before she attempted to ditch him. Even better, they might finish up and get back to her house in time for a continuation of their car sex.
With renewed enthusiasm, Bruiser strolled over to the bar, dialed up the charm, and chatted up Trudy. The woman all but climbed into his pants. Her cloying perfume choked him, and her cat-like claws dug into his arm, but Bruiser stuck with it, bullshitting her until he could get past the garbage to the good stuff, whatever the fuck that might be.
Trudy lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. “You naughty boy, coming on to me in front of them. You can’t be dating Mac?” She said it as if it were an inconceivable possibility.
Bruiser clenched his jaw, unreasonably pissed at the scorn this fake bitch directed at Mac, but he forced himself to play along. “Uh, no, just hanging with them. She works at the Steelheads’ practice facility. I lost a bet and had to take her out, so here we are.”
Trudy nodded, shooting a glance at Mac’s table then back to Bruiser. “I understand. I figured it had to be something like that. She’s not your type.”
Irritation rolled through Bruiser. Mac outscored this woman any day of the week. Yet obviously, Trudy assumed she was more Bruiser’s type. God, maybe she was, based on past girlfriends and hookups. The realization made him sick to his stomach.
“What are you doing later tonight?” Trudy pressed her hips against his, and Bruiser juked to the side with a smooth move that put a barstool between them.
“I have a commitment. Wish I didn’t, but I do.” What a lying sack of shit he was, but he reminded himself it was all for a greater cause.
“Maybe some other time.” She ran a fire-engine-red fingernail across the stubble on his chin. Instead of turning him on, he suppressed a shudder. He swore he could feel Mac’s eyes burning a heart-sized hole in his back.
“Yeah, give me your number.” Mac and Craig owed him. Big-time.
Trudy scratched her number on the back of a paper coaster and handed it to him. “Don’t lose this.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He folded it neatly and tucked it in his jeans pocket, then struck a casual pose leaning against the bar while keeping a strategic barstool between them. “So how do you know Mac and Craig?”
“Oh, my former best friend used to be married to her brother.” Trudy stepped back a little, biting at her lower lip. On Mac the act would’ve been sexy; on Trudy it read like a guilty verdict. This woman did know something.
“Really? The one who disappeared?”
“Yes. Will.” Her short, clipped tone didn’t invite more questions, but Bruiser didn’t give a shit.
“So you’re not friends with her anymore?”
“No, she’s a selfish bitch.” Trudy wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she ripped a paper coaster into little pieces.
“Do you think she did something to Will?” Bruiser sipped his beer and feigned casual disinterest, as if it were of no consequence to him.
Trudy’s eyes narrowed, and her expression turned guarded. She glanced at Mac and Craig, then back to Bruiser. Her fake smile dropped off her face to be replaced with a suspicious frown. Before he could react, she reached a hand in his pocket and snatched the coaster with her phone number. “I might be a blonde, but I’m not dumb. Try some other sucker.” She turned away from him and stalked off to bus tables. Bruiser closed his eyes for a moment, disappointed he’d come so close only to fail.
“What happened?” Craig asked when Bruiser returned to the table.
“I pushed too hard, too fast. She’s already suspicious of you two. I should’ve come in alone.”
“You tried. You don’t need to do any more.” Mac jumped in quickly, shoving a hand through her thick mane of blonde hair. If Bruiser didn’t know better, he’d swear she was jealous, and he kind of liked that.
“She knows something. Somehow, she’s involved. There’s no way someone like her would keep a secret unless it was to her benefit.” Craig’s eyes burned with an unbalanced intensity that made Bruiser uncomfortable. The guy needed emotional help.
“Dad, it was a long shot at best. Trudy isn’t talking.” She turned to Bruiser. “So, what are the Steelheads’ chances at a Super Bowl this year?” Mac stared pointedly at him, her knee bumping his.
Bruiser blinked a few times, trying to focus on this ab
rupt change in topic. “I think we can do it. Last year was a bit of a rebuilding year, lots of new, young players and—”
“What do you think she knows?” Craig interrupted, as he kept his eyes on Trudy, like he’d suddenly see the truth by staring at her.
“What? Who knows? Veronica?” Bruiser didn’t understand the question. Mac shot him a look that he couldn’t interpret.
“Trudy, of course. She has to know something. I bet she helped dispose of the body, or maybe she lured Will somewhere under a false pretense, and they killed him there.”
Bruiser didn’t quite know how to answer that. He was used to dysfunctional families, but he felt sorry for Mac all the same. As annoying as his mother and sister were, they had lives. Craig didn’t appear to have or want one. He expected the same from his daughter, and he was holding her hostage with guilt as his weapon.
Throughout the remainder of a crappy evening, Mac steered the conversation to one topic after another, only to have Craig steer it back to Will. Craig didn’t have any interest in hearing about Mac’s attempt to get a scholarship or become a sports turf manager. When they finally got back to her house, Craig followed her inside, still rambling about what Trudy must know. Mac cast an apologetic look in Bruiser’s direction. He took the hint, said good night, and drove back to his townhouse.
Sexually frustrated, Bruiser chose a cold shower for company. Sure, there were other women he could call, but he didn’t want other women right now. He wanted Mac, wanted her vertical, horizontal, upside down—hell, any way he could get her.
He stood under the showerhead as the frigid water sluiced down his body, shriveling his dick but not his desire. This thing with Mac was just about sex.
It had to be.
Bruiser’s damaged heart and brittle soul couldn’t handle anything more.
Chapter 11—Running Touchdown
Mac couldn’t decide if her father had done her a favor or a disservice by barging past Bruiser into her house a few nights ago, essentially ruining Mac’s plans for a little playtime with the league heartthrob. Scowling, Bruiser had just shrugged one shoulder, turned to his car, and driven away.
Draw Play: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 4) Page 11