The Day He Kissed Her

by Juliana Stone

  “Are you coming?” she said sharply as she headed into the dark.

  Mac turned on his heel.

  Boston didn’t have to ask twice.

  Chapter 6

  Maybe Lily St. Clare was going crazy. There was no other explanation for it. She’d been drooling over Mackenzie Draper all day.

  All freaking day.

  Like a thirteen-year-old with a first crush, she’d studied him covertly for hours. Every. Single. Inch.

  Things that she’d not noticed the night they’d spent together were suddenly in focus. Mackenzie didn’t sport a six pack. Hell no. His abs were rock hard and more in the eight-pack range. He obviously hit the gym hard, and his butt…

  Good Lord, the man’s butt was made to be admired and touched and…

  She wasn’t even going to dwell on how good he looked shirtless, with all those tanned muscles and that indent just above his shorts.

  God, she’d licked that indent.

  More than once.

  She didn’t want to think about the tattoo on his bicep or the thin line of hair below his navel that made her eyes wander lower than they should. Or how his easy smile made every woman feel special when he looked her way. Heck, even Mrs. Lancaster, the pastor’s wife, had giggled like a little girl when Mac whispered something in her ear. He’d given the woman a quick hug, and she’d blushed so deeply, Lily had noticed it from several feet away.

  The woman was pushing seventy for Christ’s sake.

  Lily didn’t want to think about any of those things, except she couldn’t stop thinking about them.

  Mackenzie Draper was trouble with a capital T. He could break a girl’s heart—maybe even when that girl’s heart was frozen. In fact, he could smash what little bits of it were still left intact.

  So why the hell was she heading off into the shadows with him? What good could come out of this?

  Lily’s feet dug into the sand as she headed down the beach, out of range of the fire and most of the people on shore. Overhead, stars were just starting to twinkle, and out over the lake, the sun had set, shooting vibrant beams of red and gold over the horizon.

  It was beautiful. Peaceful.

  And nothing like what she was feeling inside.

  She kept walking, aware that he was only steps behind, and as she approached a pile of brush that had swept up onto shore, she paused, welcoming the cool wind off the lake as it rolled over her body.

  God, she was hot. And bothered. And confused.

  He stopped inches from her back and was so close that she felt the heat from his body. So close that his earthy, fresh scent filled the air around her.

  The guy had been out in the sun all day. He’d played a hard-fought game of touch football and didn’t have any business smelling as good as he did.

  And even though it was childish, the first thought to enter her mind was that it wasn’t fair. And somehow wrong.

  Suddenly irritated, Lily exhaled a deep breath and turned around.

  Don’t look into his eyes.

  But of course, it was the first thing she did, and boom, there went that damn horde of butterflies in her stomach. They flew and dove, and man, did they make her feel woozy. Mouth dry, she held on.

  Get a grip, St. Clare.

  Luckily, years of hiding behind a mask of indifference saved her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, arched an eyebrow, and was able to manage a sentence without sounding like an idiot.

  “Five minutes is all I got, so what’s so important?”

  “Mac,” he said without skipping a beat, his eyes smoldering.

  “What?”

  “My name is Mac. I want to hear you say it.”

  Surprised, Lily took a moment. “That’s it? You want to hear me say your name?”

  He nodded and leaned closer. It took everything in Lily for her not to shrink away. For her to remain still as his warm breath slid across her heated skin. Goose bumps followed in his wake, and she couldn’t hide the shudder that rolled across her shoulders.

  “Are you going to make me beg?” His mouth hovered near her ear, and she felt the imprint of his lips even though he hadn’t touched her. “’Cause I don’t mind begging. I don’t mind doing a lot of things.”

  “Mackenzie,” she managed to say, her hands now on his chest as if she wanted to push him away. Except she didn’t push him away. She did nothing. Hell, she didn’t even breathe.

  “Mac,” he said, his voice a little rougher. A little sexier. “Mackenzie is what my mother calls me. Mac is what my friends call me.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes daring to travel up to his again.

  “And you think we’re friends?”

  “I don’t know, Boston. Are we?”

  Unnerved at the look in his eyes, she finally managed to push against his chest and took a step back. She needed some distance.

  “Mac,” she said, drawing out the one syllable. “What do you want?”

  He smiled, a full on smile that made her heart lurch and her breath quicken. “Nice,” he murmured. “That sounds real nice, darlin’.”

  Lily said nothing, mostly because she didn’t know what to say.

  A few moments passed, and she found her voice. “So that’s it? We’re playing name games?”

  “Are you and Hubber involved?” Mac asked abruptly.

  Something in the air changed, an electric shot that was hot and dangerous, and hot and… Lily exhaled and shook her head. She considered lying, but what was the point? Mackenzie would see right through her. “No.”

  “Then why is he here?”

  “Because I asked him to come.”

  “Why would you ask him to come if you’re not into him?”

  “I never said I wasn’t into him. I just said that we weren’t involved.”

  It was a lie. Blair was just a friend—a good friend, mind you, but nothing more.

  Mac inched forward, and the shadows that played across his face emphasized the sharp angles and full lips. His eyes, always so light, were now dark, and for the first time, she noticed how fast his pulse raced at the base of his neck.

  “Yet,” she continued, strangely exhilarated.

  Mac studied her for a few moments—a few moments that felt as if she were going to crawl out of her skin.

  “Interesting,” he said, a slow grin creeping over his face.

  Something about his attitude pissed her off. “How is that interesting?” she snapped.

  Mackenzie shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to be your type is all.”

  “I don’t have a type.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You do.”

  “And I suppose you think that you’re my type?”

  Oh God, Lily. Shut your damn mouth.

  His smile widened, and for a few moments, there was nothing but silence between them.

  “Have you kissed him?” he asked, his voice low and hitting a timbre that no man had a right to hit.

  Chin jutted out, Lily dropped her arms from her chest, totally aware that her nipples were saluting him and not caring one damn bit. She was unnerved, pissed off, frustrated, and…horny as hell.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  His head dipped and Lily’s toes curled into the sand. She was pretty sure it was the only thing anchoring her and preventing her from falling into him. Considering it was sand, she was going to face-plant into Mackenzie if she didn’t get her shit together.

  “What if I want to make it my business?”

  Lips parted, she stared up at him. The ache that had lingered inside her for hours was now front and center. Her chest rose and fell, and when his dark gaze dropped to her breasts, she thought she might have gasped. Or groaned.

  Or both.

  “Do you remember the way I kissed you on New Year’s Eve? Do you
remember how good it felt?”

  Again, she had nothing and stared up at him in silence. It didn’t matter though, because Mackenzie seemed to have no trouble doing all the talking.

  “Because I do, Boston, and I’ve thought about it a lot,” he murmured, lashes lowered. “I’ve thought about how sweet you tasted, how soft your mouth was, and I…”

  She waited for him to continue, fighting the need to cross her legs and somehow alleviate the ache between them.

  “I think it would be a shame if we didn’t at least try and see if it was fluke.” His breath was hot on her cheek. “Maybe that night wasn’t as hot as I remember.” His hands slid up her shoulders. “Maybe when I kissed you…maybe when I slid inside you…maybe all of that was just a fantasy and not real.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, not aware that she’d spoken aloud until his eyes snapped back to hers. Her breath caught in her chest at the look inside them.

  Waves from the lake lapped up onto shore, and in the distance, she heard voices echoing from those gathered around the bonfire. The breeze was still cool but her flesh was so hot that a film of sweat coated her skin.

  “Do you want me to kiss you, Boston?” he asked, dipping his head to her shoulder.

  Yes!

  No.

  She held her breath.

  And then closed her eyes when his warm mouth slid along her collarbone, lingering over her pulse point. All kinds of things were going off inside her. She was hot, yet she shivered. She wanted to pull away, yet her feet wouldn’t move. She was alive, yet she was terrified of being alive. How screwed up was that?

  Opening herself up to someone left so much room for pain, something she knew intimately. If Lily were smart, she’d run as far away from Mackenzie Draper as she could.

  And yet she didn’t.

  His mouth opened on her skin, there where her pulse beat. His touch was wet. Hot. So incredibly hot. His heat seeped into her skin, invaded her cells, and left her quivering beneath his touch.

  His tongue slowly licked up the side of her neck until he suckled just below her earlobe, and she couldn’t help the groan that slid out of her mouth.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered into her ear before his tongue delved inside, and then his hands crept up to her face, forcing her to look at him as he pulled back. “Do you want that?” he murmured.

  Lily’s hands dug into his hair, and she brought him down to her, her mouth open as she welcomed him into her.

  Tongues slid against each other—each taking and giving. It was a hard, fast coming together—a hungry taste that left her wanting more. His hands roved down her back and settled on her butt, pulling her against him so that every inch of her was pressed into his hard body.

  “Jesus, you taste better than I remember,” Mac said roughly, finally pulling his mouth from hers, but only long enough to trace the contours of her jaw.

  God, what his tongue did to her.

  She arched into him and, when his mouth traveled lower, groaned her disappointment because he only skimmed the tops of her breasts before making his way back to her mouth.

  His hands were still on her butt and the thrill that shot through her when she felt his erection against her was fierce. It was fierce and hot and made her feel incredibly powerful. Mackenzie nipped at her bottom lip, and then slid his right hand into her hair, holding her in place while he tasted, suckled, and nipped at her lips. His tongue slid inside once more, this time aggressively, and with each pass, the ache between her legs curled harder, pressed harder.

  So hard that she whimpered.

  It was the most incredible kiss of her life.

  When he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers, she wanted to cry because she wanted so much more. She wanted his heat and his hardness. She wanted the kiss to go on forever, and she wanted him inside her.

  They were both breathing heavily, and for a few seconds, neither one said a thing. Slowly, the sounds from down the beach invaded their space, and Lily jumped when the first firecracker shot up into the night sky.

  Mackenzie slowly let his hands drop and stepped away, his eyes still dark and full of sinful promise. He ran his hands through the disheveled mess of blond hair at his nape, as a slow smile swept over him.

  Lily’s heart might have stopped.

  “I think my five minutes are up.”

  She swallowed and exhaled. “I think so.”

  His grin widened. “What are we going to do about this, Boston?”

  Trying to get her bearings, she took a moment, eyeing him warily. “This?”

  He nodded. “You and I. Us. That kiss. What are we gonna do about it?”

  Lily moistened her swollen and still-tingling mouth. Right. That kiss.

  Suddenly, every fear and neurosis and painful memory inside her shot to the surface and Lily shrugged, that cool mask she so desperately needed back in place as she stared into his eyes.

  “It was just a kiss, Macken—”

  “Mac,” he interrupted.

  She paused. “Mac. It was a nice kiss.”

  His brow furrowed. “Nice? Come on, Boston. You can do better than that.”

  “Can you not call me that?”

  “Why?” His voice dipped again. “Does it remind you of New Year’s Eve?”

  God, yes.

  “It just…” She blew out a hot breath. “It just makes it seem that we’re a lot more than—”

  “Friends?” he said silkily.

  Lily nodded.

  “Trust me.” He winked. “We’re more than just friends. And that kiss was a hell of a lot more than just nice.”

  Why was he doing this to her? Irritated, she frowned.

  “Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. You’re going back to New York, and besides, neither one of us is exactly the relationship type.”

  Oh. God. Had she just pulled out the R word?

  “Bull,” Mackenzie said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sounds like bullshit to me.”

  A sliver of warning rushed through her and she eyed him warily.

  “The thing of it is, Boston, what just happened between us does matter. It matters a whole lot.” His grin faded as his intense, dark eyes studied her. “I’m thinking that maybe now is a good time for some changes.” He spoke, more to himself than anything, and then nodded. “Yeah, change is good.”

  “Change?” Something stirred in her gut. Something that might have been anticipation or adrenaline or plain old fear.

  “Summer in New York City isn’t looking all that interesting to me.”

  “It’s not.” Mouth dry, she watched him closely.

  “Nope.”

  Her heart lurched.

  “What do you think about that?” he asked.

  “I think that you can do whatever you want to do.”

  “Bullshit,” he said softly.

  The lump in her throat swelled, and Lily couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to.

  “I’ll be honest. That relationship thing?” He shrugged. “I think we’re on the same page there. Relationships are overrated for people like us.” He leaned forward and brushed his mouth across her lips. “But that kiss that we shared is sure as hell worth exploring, don’t you think?”

  Mackenzie stepped back. “I’ve leaving for New York City on Monday, but trust me…I’ll be back, Boston.” And then he disappeared into the shadows.

  Lily’s fingers crept across her tingling lips as she stared into the dark. She stood there for so long that eventually the fireworks ended.

  And she still wasn’t sure what the hell had happened.

  Chapter 7

  June flew by and Mackenzie spent most of it tying up loose ends in the city. He finished up a big project, met with a few clients scheduled for the fall, and ended a casual thing
he had going with a wannabe model. The woman, Dru, had kicked up a fuss, and he’d felt bad at the sight of her tears, but hell, he hadn’t promised her anything more than a good time.

  He closed up his brownstone, made arrangements for his cleaning lady to check in every few weeks, and had managed to rent the Booker cottage for the entire summer. It was a rustic place, heavy with that Michigan charm, and it boasted a private beach and dock.

  The cottage was a large A-frame building made entirely of logs. Open concept, the front was all glass and gave him an unfettered view of the lake, with a massive fireplace tucked into the corner. It wasn’t exactly roughing it, considering the flat-screen mounted above the fireplace, but it had the charm and feel of an old pair of jeans. Not exactly fashion forward, but comfortable.

  Mac might be Mr. Armani in New York City, but back here, he was that old pair of jeans, and the Booker cottage was more than enough for him.

  At the moment, he was all about worn and comfortable, having pulled on a pair of khaki shorts this morning and an old BlackRock T-shirt that had seen better days. It was the second Saturday in July, a week or so after all the Independence Day shenanigans, and he’d arrived in Crystal Lake the night before.

  “Is that all you need, Mackenzie?”

  Mac tossed a couple sheets of sandpaper onto the counter along with a scraping tool and frowned at Mr. Daley, owner of Crystal Lake’s one and only hardware store. “I’ve got a lot of fence to cover, but I’m thinking two cans will be enough.”

  “Okay, son. I tossed in the brushes you wanted and a few extra stir sticks.” The large, balding man grinned as he peeked over the top of his glasses. “If you need anything else, just give me a call and I’ll get it ready for you. If the timing is right, I can even drop it off at your mother’s on my way home to the missus.”

  Mac had to smile. Now that was customer service.

  Mr. Daley set about ringing through his order. No barcode scanner here. “I hear you’ve rented the Booker place for the summer.”

  “I did.”

  “I also hear that you’re working with Jake Edwards on the new development across the lake.”

  Mac smiled. There were things about Crystal Lake that would never change—like the gossip wheel that constantly turned. “That’s right. Jake hired me to help with the design, so I’ll be starting on Monday.”