Messing With Mac

by Jill Shalvis

  “I think I can fumble around and figure it out.” As it was useless to resist, he gave in, telling himself this was simply a one time deal. Comfort sex, as they’d both just said. God knew they both needed it.

  “Well, if you need any help,” Taylor teased, let ting out a moan when he fisted his hands in her hair and tugged lightly, exposing her throat to his hungry mouth. “I’ll be happy to help you out.”

  Then his mouth captured hers and there was no more talking because she couldn’t keep a single, solitary thought in her head except for more, please, please, more.

  His hands danced over her body, gripping her hips, squeezing, before racing roughly up her spine to press her closer to his hot, hard length. His mouth shifted from gentle to ravishing so fast her head spun, leaving her no choice but to fly with him.

  Which was exactly what she’d wanted, it was what she’d wanted since she’d first set eyes on him.

  Then he pulled back, staring into her eyes while his fingers played with the teeny-tiny straps on her shoulders.

  He wanted her. He’d come for her when she’d called him, he’d come and been there for her in a way no one had in so long she’d forgotten how good it felt.

  No matter what they each claimed, this was no comfort sex. Maybe Mac wasn’t ready to admit it, but she could wait for the words.

  The actions though…those she needed, desperately. Now. She could feel her nipples, rigid against the silk. She could feel her thighs, and the dampness between them, and the blood roaring through her veins. Every single atom in her body was vibrantly aware, overly sensitized and aroused. She was tingling all over, so full of anticipation and raging need she could hardly stand it.

  She didn’t have to. Mac yanked off his shirt. Kicked off his shoes, then his pants, before coming back to her.

  At the sight of him, she caught her breath. He was amazing. Magnificent. Huge. She would have looked at him forever, but he yanked her against him, hard.

  Hard was good. Bending her back over his arm, he put his mouth on her breast through the material of her nightie, and nearly sent her through the roof. His hand skimmed down her legs, then back up again, beneath the material now. Up the back of her thigh.

  Where he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties.

  The knowledge ripped a rough groan from him and a shiver of thrill from her.

  If he didn’t get to the rest soon, now, she was going to explode. Looping her arms around his neck, she slid her silk against his hot, pulsing, vibrating body.

  Tensing, his hands tightened on her. “Taylor…”

  “Yes,” she sighed into his ear, then rimmed it with her tongue, making him groan and his body jerk. Encouraged, she slid her tongue down the side of his throat, thrilling to the way his fingers dug into her hips.

  “Condom,” he growled, frustration pouring off him. “I don’t have a—”

  “I do.” She pulled back, giving him a small, secret smile as she stroked her fingers over her own breast.

  “I tucked one right in here.”

  His mouth fell open as if he needed it that way just to breathe.

  “Are you going to get it?” she asked, the words barely out of her mouth before he yanked on the rib bon beneath her breasts, spilling them free. As the nightie fell away, he found the small foil packet.

  Scooping it up, he stared at it. “You packed a con dom.”

  “I believe in safe sex.”

  “Yes, but…” Now he looked at her; hot and bothered, and baffled. An irresistible combination.

  “When you called,” he said slowly. “You were so scared—”

  “I was.”

  “But when I got there you were dressed, with your hair and makeup done. Waiting for me. You…you knew we were going to do this,” he accused, his eyes narrowing.

  “I knew you would come,” she said truthfully. “I also knew only you would make it better. Only you, Mac.”

  He groaned again, and she didn’t know if it was from getting his first good look at her naked body, or that he was trying to garner the strength to push her away. On the off chance he could muster enough to do it, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and tugged backward so that she fell on her back on the mattress and he fell over her.

  “Damn it,” he grated out, lifting his weight off her. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “I’m not fragile.” Arching her hips, she brushed the very center of herself over his erection, making him hiss out a breath. “I’m not going to break.”

  He ripped open the little packet while she ran her fingernails down his belly, smiling when he tensed at the teasing caress and dropped the condom. Twice. Then his hands tightened on her bare thighs, pushing them open so that she was spread out for him, and her smile faded, replaced by a bated breath as she closed her eyes and waited for him to put the condom on, to thrust home.

  When he didn’t, she opened her eyes. He was staring down at her. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said in a reverent whisper. Still holding her gaze, he skimmed his hands down her thighs until his thumbs met at her creamy center. Slowly, so maddeningly slowly she thought she would die, he gently traced them over her, lightly, up and down. Down and up. Her hips ground helplessly, and when he did it again, then yet again, she let out a helpless whimper.

  “So wet,” he whispered, dropping his gaze now to watch what he was doing, slipping a finger into her as he continued to apply pressure to just the right spot with his thumb.

  Her body strained, and the wordless demand she made was most definitely a cry for more.

  Still watching as his fingers drove her to the edge, he made a sound, too, a deep, throaty moan.

  And then drew away.

  With a desperate sob, Taylor arched her hips upward. If he stopped now…

  “Shh.” He slid his body off the bed until he was kneeling on the floor, his broad shoulders wedged between her thighs. Sliding his hands beneath her undulating hips, he held her still.

  She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe… “Mac…”

  “I know, baby. I know.” And he put his mouth on her.

  At the first silken stroke of his tongue she nearly burst right out of her own skin. At his second stroke, her back went rigid. Gripping handfuls of his sheets in her fists, she mindlessly ground her hips in spite of the hold he had on her.

  “Good?” he lifted his head to ask.

  She throbbed. Ached. Quivered. “Good.”

  He bent his head again and sucked her into his mouth, making her come in a blinding, thrashing, gut-wrenching rush. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced, it was completely out of her realm, and as he didn’t stop, she kept coming.

  Gradually, with gentle kisses and wordless murmurs, he brought her down, and when her breathing slowed, he leisurely made his way back up her body, using that wonderful, talented, greedy mouth.

  “Oh, Mac,” she sighed with a last shudder, and kissed him.

  Mac could have drowned in that kiss, and might have if he hadn’t been so consumed with the sheer primal lust ripping through his body. “Condom,” he managed, and held it up. “Gotta get it on.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Just do it quick.”

  Her fingers on him nearly took him right over, and when she stopped to swirl her thumb over the tip of him, he could only growl her name, on the very thin edge of control. He couldn’t help it, not after watching her come apart for him, not with the taste of her still on his lips. He’d wanted to make her shudder and gasp and cry out his name, and he’d done that.

  Now he wanted to do it again. He wanted her writhing beneath him. He wanted to see her, wanted to hear more of those mind-blowingly sexy little whimpers and panting entreaties.

  “Now,” she ordered, wrapping her fingers around the full length of him, guiding him to her. “Now.”

  With one thrust, he drove himself home, and then, overcome by the tight, wet heat surrounding him, by her hands gliding mindlessly up and down
his back, by the long, ragged sigh that escaped her lips, he went utterly still before he lost it too fast.

  “Please,” she begged, those perfectly lacquered fingernails digging into his butt.

  Oh yeah, he’d please. He let himself go, gave in to the tense, quivering, straining muscles that wanted to ride, and when she dug those nails in again, his hips started to piston madly, pounding into her, possessing, taking. Giving.

  Tossing back her head, Taylor arched into him, pulling her legs back, taking even more of him, deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust.

  Damp flesh slapped against damp flesh. Breathing came hard and uneven. The mattress creaked, the headboard hit the wall in a rhythm set by their desperate motions. It was the wild, screaming, sweaty sex she’d been tormenting him with for days.

  Then, skin slick, chest heaving, Taylor cried out, gripping him for all she was worth as she splintered into a thousand pieces in his arms, shuddering, shuddering, her inner muscles clenching him so tight he could do nothing but hold on tight and follow her over.

  They collapsed into each other, still quivering, still gasping, exhausted in their utter satisfaction.

  Mac knew he needed to shift his weight, that he was heavy, but he was wrung out, panting for air, and still so entwined with Taylor he had no idea where her body began and his ended.

  Several minutes passed like that, while he caught his breath and waited for his world to stop spinning.

  “I can’t see,” Taylor finally said, voice hoarse.

  With great effort he lifted his face from where it was plastered to the side of her neck. He had her hair in his mouth. Spitting it out, he said, “Your eyes are closed.”

  “Oh.” She gave that some thought. Without opening them, she said, “And I can’t feel my toes.”

  Craning his neck, he looked at her bare, very sexy toes. “I think it’s because I’m heavy.”

  But when he would have moved off her, she tightened her fingers, which were still embedded in his butt. “Don’t,” she whispered, hugging him tight. “Not yet.”

  “You’ll suffocate.” With a huge effort, he heaved himself up to his elbows and stared, a little stunned, into her face.

  Her cheeks were rosy. Her lips were wet and slightly swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were soft, void of that usual cool haze, and smiling at him.

  She was so beautiful it took his breath. “Taylor…”

  She slapped his butt. “Anyone ever tell you you’re pretty good at that wild, screaming, sweaty sex stuff?”

  “Pretty good?”

  The female smile turned quite smug. “Okay. Pretty, pretty good.” Her hips rocked, just a very little, tiny motion, but he felt it all the way to his toes.

  Still hard within her, he thrust back.

  Smugness vanished as she gasped.

  He thrust again.

  Her mouth fell open now, her eyes glazing over. “Mac? Again?”

  “I have to upgrade ‘pretty, pretty good’ to ‘mind-blowingly amazing,’ don’t I?”

  Her breath caught when he dipped down and kissed a breast. “O-okay.”

  Another slow, rocking thrust.

  And then again.

  Taylor arched up, tighter than a drawn bow, her nipples beaded in two hard buds, her skin glowing and damp as he watched her fight to take what he held just out of her reach. “Oh, Mac. Faster. Harder.”

  He gave her harder but held back on the faster. Kept it slow until she was clutching at him, mindless again, on the very edge. “Mac!”

  Just as it always had been, resisting her took every bit of control he had. “Is it pretty, pretty good?” he whispered.

  “It’s… Oh, Mac…”

  “Easy,” he whispered, running hot, openmouthed kisses down her throat. “We’re going to take it nice and easy this time.”

  “No, I…please…it’s…” She opened her eyes on his, and he could tell by the desperation and need warring on her face she couldn’t remember what he wanted to hear.

  “Mind-blowingly amazing,” he said, helping her. Then stroked a thumb right above where they were joined.

  She bucked beneath him. “Mind-blowingly…oh, yeah, it is,” she managed as he slowly, slowly thrust into her. “Mind-blowingly amazing.” And when he stroked his thumb again, her thighs and belly went taut. She held him in a death vise, suspended for a long heartbeat…staring up at him with wide, passion-dazed eyes as she let go, letting him watch her fall.

  The honesty nearly killed him, and took him over, too. He let go, giving himself so completely he had no idea how he was going to ever get over it. Over her.

  No idea at all.

  14

  TAYLOR AWOKE as dawn broke and discovered two things. One, Mac was a serious pillow hog, and two, he slept like the living dead.

  That worked in her favor, as she needed a moment to digest things, and she couldn’t do that with him wrapped around her like a cocoon.

  Gently as she could, she slid out from the two strong, warm arms holding her captive against his chest. They must have been sleeping like that for awhile, as her face was stuck to his chest, her chest to his belly.

  Lifting her head, she stared down into his face.

  Eyes closed, breathing deeply, he didn’t budge.

  But there was the matter of his thigh, which he’d thrown over her body and was acting as a weight to keep her in place. Wriggling, she managed to turn from her side to her back, but his leg still pinned her. From her back, she rolled again.

  And fell off the bed with a thump loud enough to wake the people of China.

  But not one Thomas Mackenzie.

  Popping back up, she stared at him, but other than a little moan of protest at the loss of her body heat, he didn’t so much as flicker an eye.

  She didn’t know whether to be insulted or grateful, but settled on grateful. Padding naked to the bathroom, she gazed critically into the mirror and tried not to wince. What was it about wild, screaming, sweaty sex that so ruined a good hairdo? She fixed that quickly enough, and did the best she could with water and soap—so rough on her skin!—to get rid of the mascara beneath her eyes.

  Mac was still asleep when she came back out. Slipping into his shirt, she went to the window and watched the sun rise over South Village. It came in slow waves of brilliant orange, yellow and red, probably from the smog, but it still took her breath.

  “Hey.” Accompanying this gruff, sexy voice came two nice and toasty arms, encircling her from behind.

  “Hey yourself,” she said, trying not to sigh with pleasure.

  “Maybe you somehow missed how early it is.”

  She let herself go, closing her eyes, leaning back into the hard strength holding her. There was just something about a man’s voice in the morning that made her want to melt. “No.”

  His mouth brushed her temple in a gesture so tender, so sweet, it made her want to cry. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said quietly.

  What was wrong? Only everything. And because of it, she couldn’t speak, she’d gone mute around the football-size lump in her throat.

  His lips cruised to her ear while his hands criss-crossed in front of her to smooth up and down her arms. “Regrets already?”

  God, she loved his touch. It was…comforting. He didn’t touch her breasts or between her legs, he didn’t thrust his pelvis against her butt. None of the things she’d have expected of a normal, hot-blooded male first thing in the morning, looking to get lucky.

  And emotion swamped her, drowning her. She was deathly afraid it was deep emotion, and maybe even an emotion that began with the letter L.

  “Talk to me, Princess.”

  She drew a deep breath and watched the sun bursting a myriad of colors on the blooming day. After the night they’d had, she should be sleepy, but she was wide awake.

  And it had been quite a night. They’d had only that one condom, but it hadn’t mattered. They’d explored other options, pleasuring each other by touch, by mouth, leaving her little more than a sensory
creature, fed on passion and hunger until they’d exhausted themselves.

  Mac didn’t say anything, but he kept on touching her, lightly, sweetly, sharing his heat.

  “I haven’t had a night like that since…well.” She sighed. “It’s been a long time.” She closed her eyes and admitted the truth. “I haven’t allowed myself to.” Then, knowing she needed to say it face-to-face, she turned, tipped back her head. “That wasn’t just comfort sex,” she whispered. “That wasn’t even just wild, screaming, sweaty sex.”

  Emotion flickered in his gaze, too, but leading the pack of all of it was a sudden regret. “Taylor—”

  “No.” She couldn’t handle hearing him say it, that for him it hadn’t been anything but those things. She already knew. “Last night I opened up to you, in a way that…” She let out a slow breath and tried to smile. “In a way that, quite frankly, terrifies me. I’m not ready for it, Mac. I’m not ready and I’m fairly certain you’re not either.”

  That he said nothing only fed the knowledge she was in over her head. Way over her head. Throat closing, she backed out of his arms. “I have things to think about, and you have your ex-wife to get over.”

  Shock filled his face. “What?”

  “I’ve never felt the need to compete with anyone in my life, and I won’t do it now.”

  “Ariel is not sharing my bed.”

  Ariel. The ex-wife had a name. She swallowed hard. It didn’t escape her that she might be truly and completely over Jeff if she could feel this searing jealousy. God, she’d loved Jeff. But he was gone and she wasn’t. “I didn’t mean to drum this all up now. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’ve been intimate in bed, but that’s all. That’s all it’s going to be.”

  “Yes,” he agreed softly when she opened her eyes and waited for a response. Her heart cracked, but what the hell had she expected him to say? He’d never been anything but brutally honest with her, and she had no one but herself to blame for getting in too deep now.

  “You know what?” She managed a smile. “I need to go. Lots of stuff to do today.”

  She figured the fact that he’d silently driven her home meant he was even less ready than she’d imagined.