And she still needed to apologize to Mackey, damn it.
She would get that over with, then go for a cleansing ride.
He answered the door, broad, bare chest dusted with hair and glinting with diamond drops of sweat.
It was too much. Another time she’d want to eat him up, to run her tongue over every inch of skin, every ridge of muscle.
But right now she just wanted to be alone, so she’d get this over with fast. “I came to apologize.”
“What?”
She focused her eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know you. I shouldn’t be passing judgment.”
“Okay,” he said equably. “Want a beer?”
That was it? Such easy agreement? She didn’t know how to react. “No. That’s all I have to say. Good night.” She turned to go.
He came after her. “Ow! Rissa, stop. I don’t have on my boots.”
“That was all I needed. I’m done. Get back inside.”
“Ouch, damn it.” He reached her, grasped her shoulder. Turned her around. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He tilted her chin upward. “Look at me. You’re upset. You don’t have to apologize if you don’t mean it.”
She flicked one look at his face, then shut her eyes again. “I do mean it.”
“Would this have to do with how your dad just took off like a bat out of hell?”
She shrugged.
“Would you please look at me?”
She opened her eyes slowly.
“What did he do?” Mackey demanded.
“Nothing new. I just—” You made me think. You made me want.
“Have you eaten?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled just then.
One dark eyebrow arched.
“Shut up,” she muttered.
He slid his hand down to hers. Squeezed. “I have a way with scrambled eggs. Join me?”
“I was just going to—”
“Have a beer with me. Beer and scrambled eggs. Meal of champions.”
She couldn’t help a grin. “That is disgusting.”
“Yeah, but see? You feel better already.” He tugged her along. “Ow.” His mincing steps looked ridiculous as he hopped over the rocky ground.
She had to laugh. “Want me to carry you, girly man?”
His eyebrows waggled. “Sounds great.” His voice pitched falsetto. “Save me, Wonder Woman. Take me in your big strong arms.” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and lifted a leg as though he was going to hop into her arms.
“Go away. You’re ridiculous.”
“But those sad eyes are smiling now,” he said, and bent to her.
Her breath froze.
He brushed his nose over hers, his warm, sweet breath fanning her cheek. “Wanna make out, Ris?” Slowly his lips grazed hers.
She thought she might want that a little too much. “Not really.” She could not let herself be swayed by this man, the tender one. Sexy Mackey, Hot Hollywood Stud, was one thing. Heated, meaningless sex, oh yeah…there was nothing like revving up your system and having a nice bang of a climax.
Not that she’d had that many.
But this kind, gentle man and his tender care? She exhaled. It was a long way to fall, and she wasn’t ready to hurt the way she sensed he could make her hurt if she let herself believe in more than the physical.
“Liar,” he accused, and let his mouth cruise over her cheek, drifting down to nip at her earlobe.
She didn’t quite manage to shut off the moan.
“I feel a little like whimpering myself. Come inside, Rissa.” He urged her forward, keeping her clasped to his side.
No more complaints about his feet as he so smoothly led her up the stairs where she could hear something soft and slow and seductive playing.
“This is a bad idea, Mackey.”
He held the screen door for her. “On the contrary, I’m pretty sure this is the best idea I ever had.”
He was right. What would feel better than rolling around, having great sex with a smoking hot man? Why was she being so prim? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been lusting after him since the minute he showed up. Or as though they weren’t adults, capable of understanding what this was and wasn’t.
“C’mere,” he said, and drew her close.
“Mackey, I don’t…”
“Let me cuddle you, Ris. That’s all.”
“Now who’s lying?”
He chuckled against her ear, but all he did was rock her slowly, side to side, swaying to the music.
Yes, his body was clearly demonstrating that he was interested in more, but man, it was nice to be held against a hard, muscled body, to be clasped in strong arms.
“Sh-h,” he said. “Stop thinking. Just…be.” Then he swayed with her.
And sang to her. She’d never known he had such a nice voice, baritone and husky.
Rissa heaved a deep sigh and settled in, let him move her into slow dance steps, her cheek against his shoulder, his breath ruffling the curls that always escaped her braid.
“Nice,” she sighed. It was nice, this feeling, and for a few moments she simply enjoyed, let herself drift. Let go of everything but this man and this music.
But then her body began to rouse to his.
Mackey felt the shift in her and murmured a silent thank you to his lucky stars. Not that he wouldn’t have kept her here like this all night—simply holding her felt good, and he liked knowing that he was easing some of the troubles she carried around on those slim shoulders.
But when she wiggled that very fine body of hers against his in a way that had nothing to do with comfort and a whole lot to do with hunger, his already-alert body went to full-on salute.
Then her breathy sigh nearly undid him.
Still he tried to hang on, to remember that his first priority was being a friend.
Her hands began to travel over his bare back. When she reached the scars from the bullet holes near his left shoulder, her caress halted.
He didn’t want to talk about war right now.
Or ever.
So he let his own hands free, skimming one up her side, dragging her shirttail with it and letting his hand at last touch her smooth skin. “I knew it,” he said.
“Knew what?” But she didn’t stop touching him.
“Your skin, it’s like silk.”
She snorted. “It is not.”
“Give me your hand.” He didn’t wait but grasped it, slid it up beneath her shirt, then trailed it over the curve of her breast. “Silk.”
“Just feels like skin to me,” she muttered.
He squeezed their fingers so that she clasped her own breast.
Her quick inhale made him smile. “You just don’t get it—but that’s okay. Put your hands back on me. I’ll take it from here.” And he did, using nimble fingers to unclasp her bra and shift it aside, then feathering his touch over pebbled flesh and an erect nipple. “I have to see you,” he muttered. With quick gestures, he skinned off her shirt and cast it aside. The bra joined it.
“Mackey, anyone could see us. We’re right in front of the open door.”
“Let ’em look,” he grumbled, but he picked her up and kicked the door closed, then strode into the bedroom, kicking that door shut, too. Flipped on the a/c unit so they wouldn’t melt in the heat.
Yeah, sure. He was already way into the red zone.
He laid her out on that godawful mattress and propped himself up over her to look his fill. “You are so damn gorgeous.” He heard the thickness of his voice. “Will you take your hair down? Or better yet, let me?”
She studied him with those so-serious brown eyes. “This is just sex, right, Mackey?”
He wasn’t as sure as he once had been, but he wasn’t interested in arguing right now. “Great sex, darlin’. Never just sex, not between us, I promise.”
“But—”
“Hush, Rissa. Let me make love to you. Just focu
s on that. Stop worrying so much.”
“I’m not—”
He stopped her with a kiss, a hot, heavy, lightning shot of one.
At least he felt the lighting bolt. The woman could kiss. When he drew his head back, he was glad to see that she looked a little dazed herself. He reached behind her and drew out her braid, resting one knee on the mattress beside her hip.
“I’m all horse-y. I need a shower.”
He lifted his other leg over her and straddled her hips. “I like horses. I like you. And you’re not getting out of this bed anytime soon.” He kept his eyes on hers as he removed the rubber band binding the end of the braid, then used his fingers to spread that glorious hair out over the covers. He lifted her head gently, then continued to drape the auburn waves around her head, a nimbus of earthy sensuality.
Then he slid his fingers into the wavy mass and stroked her scalp.
“Mm-m…that feels good.” Her goddess body writhed beneath him.
Mackey let his head fall back on his neck and addressed the ceiling in a silent plea for the patience he would need not to ravish her right now.
“You okay?”
He looked down. “Just asking the universe for more control than I feel capable of at the moment.”
A slow, sexy smile curved those amazing lips. “I like it fast.” Mischief twinkled.
“You’re gonna get it slow…or as slow as I can manage.”
Her hands went to the fly of his jeans, opened the fastening at the waist. “We can do slow later.”
He covered her hands, but that only increased the pressure at his groin. “You’re trying to kill me, right?”
“I’m trying to fix what’s hurting.” A sly, wicked smile.
“Such a philanthropist,” he said.
She popped two more buttons on his fly.
“Rissa…”
One hand slid inside. “Yum, commando. My favorite.” She licked her lips. Grabbed hold of him.
“Rissa!”
That belly laugh again, pure glee. “Come on, Mackey. You know you want this.”
He stared at her, more fascinated by the second. “I damn sure do.” Maybe too much.
She stroked him from root to tip. Reared up and took him in her mouth.
“Oh good sweet mother of—” He gripped her under the arms and tossed her further up the mattress. “Okay, you asked for it.” He started stripping off her boots and jeans, using his mouth on every inch of skin he could see.
“Yesss…” she hissed.
He tore at her panties and dove between her legs.
“Mackey!”
He lifted his head long enough to grin. “You asked for it, babe. Better hang on now—gonna be a wild ride.”
Her eyes were hot, her smile fierce. “You don’t scare me.”
He took a long, lavish lick at the heart of her, loving the heartfelt moan.
Well, you just might scare me, babe.
Chapter Eight
The second time they’d made love had started out slower, Mackey’s determination to be thorough impressive.
It had quickly gotten out of control again, though—so much so that there were parts of it Rissa couldn’t remember, only the maple-sweet syrup of her blood pounding in her ears, her body alive and electric, the pressure to rise and rise to soar again nearly unbearable. She couldn’t get enough of him, and he was the same. He ravaged her, delighted her, tantalized her to glories almost past bearing.
She only thought she’d made love before.
Oh, I am in so much trouble, she thought as she lay in the moonlight, trying to catch her breath. She had to get out of here. Couldn’t feel this way. Couldn’t let him know—
She pushed back the covers and started to get up.
A strong arm caught her at the waist. “Don’t go,” he muttered, his voice smoky and thick. “Stay, Ris.”
She wanted to, heaven help her. Wanted to stay in this bed for days. For the rest of her life. Make it a permanent hideaway, the island where pleasure ruled. “I can’t,” she said desperately and tried to pull away.
He was too strong for her. She found herself flat on her back, his big body ranged over her. “You can.” He nipped her throat, then cruised his lips over the bite, his tongue soothing. Tormenting. “You should.” And he nudged at her center, making her body ripple at the feel of him.
“Again?” she said weakly.
“Can you take me? I can’t get enough of you, Rissa mine.”
Mine. No word could have been more terrifying.
Or more of a dream. “Mackey…”
He slid inside, and her traitorous body welcomed him. “Nnnn…” she groaned low in her throat. He was like a drug.
“Yeah,” he said softly, drawing out and thrusting back in.
She gasped.
But her pelvis rocked into him, drawing him deeper still.
“Oh, baby,” he said in that midnight voice that felt like velvet.
She clutched at his shoulders. Levered up to plaster her body to his chest. Her fingers dug into his hair, and she rotated her groin against him.
“Rissa…” His was the groan now, low and heartfelt. “I want to be inside you so deep…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, then released him enough to seize his mouth. She was hunger and hunger and hunger…
He thrust faster. Harder. Deeper, an unerring instinct leading him to stroke over the spot that made her scream. She was on fire, she was crazy for him, she’d lost her mind over him, she needed and needed—
“What the hell is this?” he said, wonder in his eyes as if he felt it, too.
“Kiss me, Mackey. Take me, let me take you—” Then she was flying, soaring, a shattering scream rising up her throat, her whole body singing, aching…
A low growl rose from him as he drew her with him higher and higher—
“Mackey!”
He fastened his mouth to hers, swallowed her scream, poured into her, sealing them together in starfire, in glory—
The heavens burst, the night sky exploded.
Mackey held her close, clasped her to him as though she were something precious. Made her feel safe. Cherished.
She couldn’t help clinging to him herself.
And wishing this never had to end.
Coyote howls awakened Mackey, and he studied her in silence, wanting to touch her but knowing she would wake.
She wasn’t going to be happy about this, he had the feeling. He wasn’t sure what he felt himself, except that everything had changed. The woman who’d been pure flame in his arms had changed it.
He’d made love—scratch that, had sex—with a lot of women.
This was different.
But he couldn’t be in love. Didn’t want to be.
Last night they’d definitely made love, though. Sex was too puny a word for what had passed between them. He hadn’t had but one sip of his beer, so he couldn’t blame alcohol for how he’d lost his mind.
Nope, that was all Rissa.
Damn, Cousin Crankypants. You are so unbelievably hot. She was more, though, if he were honest. He’d uncovered a sweetness in her that was as disconcerting as her fierceness.
Because, make no mistake, Rissa was an Amazon in bed. Intense, demanding, fire and magic. She’d taken him as much as he’d taken her. He was hard for her again, just thinking about how off-the-charts sexy she was.
But she was vulnerable, too. He thought of the loneliness he’d seen, how hard she tried to protect herself.
Yet she’d trusted him, she’d let him cuddle her. A protectiveness rose in him, a determination to keep anyone or anything from hurting her.
She wasn’t weak, no. She might be the strongest woman he’d ever encountered. She could take care of herself in many ways, and she had some amazing skills outside the bedroom as well. Her valor stunned him.
But her heart needed protecting, and the shell she’d built around it was brittle.
Man, were they a pair or what? He was the worst p
ossible person for her to get involved with, someone who hadn’t really cared for a long time whether he lived or died.
But he cared about her now.
And what the hell was he going to do about that?
Rissa was having the best dream. She was on horseback, riding Bonanza flat out over an endless green, not one rock in sight, no holes to watch for, only blissfully smooth ground. She could feel the wind through her hair, the sun sweet on her face, and everything was right in her world, tranquil and fine and…happy.
Warmth touched her cheek, and she curled into it.
Sighed. “Mmmm….”
Warmth brushed her lips, made her want to open them.
Oh. My. Scorching. Sweet. She opened her mouth to get more, to tangle her tongue over the slick wetness, to soak it in, to revel in the buzz in her blood—
“Ris,” a low voice rumbled. “I want you again.”
Her eyes popped open.
Above her a face, one increasingly familiar, maybe even…dear.
Her stomach clutched. “Mackey?”
“Hey.” He smiled.
His bare broad chest was against hers, only a sheet between them.
She wanted badly to strip the sheet away. To rub herself all over him.
Images of doing just that fired in her brain, visions of parting her legs over him, of rocking her hips up and down to stroke her wetness over his length, of watching those green eyes blaze and his big hands grasping hers as he lifted her over him and—
Glory. Blinding. Blazing. Bright as the heavens.
Then falling to earth and nestling in his arms.
Kissing his chest, all those crazy ripped muscles, and snuggling into his side.
He stroked her face again, and her eyes opened.
“Morning, gorgeous.” His smile was full of knowing. Heated and yet…fond.
Her heart gave a treacherous leap.
Oh, to have that smile every—
No. This was Mackey they were talking about. Mr. Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss. Mr. I’m Screwing My Way Through Hollywood. He was bigger than life. Bigger than Sweetgrass for sure.
Caution swept over her. “Um…I have to…” She frowned. “How late is it?”
“Ten. Not too bad.”
Texas Wild: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Book 2 Page 10