I whistled as my eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Must have gone well, then?”
“He called you a cockblocker.”
I couldn’t stop grinning.
“That funny to you?”
“It’s funny that he said it out loud when he was trying to play the friend card . . . not that I think he’s incapable of being a friend, but when it comes to you? No man would be able to do that . . .”
It was out before I could stop myself.
And just like Jagger the shithead—I’d outed myself.
I rubbed the back of my head and stared at the floor. “All guys are . . . idiots.”
She was silent.
Though I did hear the sound of the wine bottle tipping back again.
“Did you really lose the detergent?” she asked in a soft voice.
“No,” I admitted.
“And the French toast?”
“Where else would it be? The dishwasher?”
“And killing him?”
“Oh, that’s still on the calendar, thanks for asking.” I beamed.
She set the wine bottle down on the coffee table and slowly made her way over to me.
I sucked in a breath, waiting for her to announce that she was going home since she already checked in on my sanity.
Instead, she set her purse down on the chair next to my legs and then pulled her coat off, draping it beside her purse.
I could hear my own heartbeat as my eyes zeroed in on her pink lips. “Does this mean you’re staying?”
“Do you want me to?”
I reached for her.
Only to have her dodge me and lift her shoulder into the air. “Movie?”
“Movie.” I tested the word with my mouth and decided that I didn’t like it, not at all. “Sure.”
A movie?
Really?
“What do you want to watch?” I grabbed the remote and tried not to inhale as she breezed past me—God, she always smelled so good.
She grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around herself, then yawned.
I made her yawn.
YAWN.
“Something with some action,” she decided out loud.
“What kind of action?” I hinted a bit.
And it went directly over her head. “You know, like Bruce Willis.”
Damn it.
“Yeah, I can find something . . .” I skimmed the channels. A Die Hard marathon was on cable. I clicked on it and sat.
My body rock hard.
My resolve rock solid.
My brain mush as she moved her head to my chest and wrapped an arm around my middle, like I was the best fucking friend she’d ever had.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of anything but the way that arm felt brushed up against my skin.
Sweet hell.
And when she tried to get closer, I wrapped my arms around her and just held her there.
“Was I too easy?” she asked about ten minutes into the movie.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I growled. “If he called you easy I’m going to—”
“Not him.” She shook her head. “Alton.”
“Alton wouldn’t know his ass from his penis if someone drew him a diagram. No, you’re not easy. He’s just a pompous prick with too high of an opinion of himself.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“He left you. At the altar, Mack. You went on vacation. You wanted an adventure . . .” I squeezed her tighter. “Never apologize for wanting to live.”
I meant it.
“Thanks.”
“Mack, any girl that saves herself for the man she’s going to marry and then gives it away the way you did is so blindly trusting of other humans. It says so much about you, about your character. And the guy who took it without looking back? Well, let’s just say that guy is just as much of an asshole as the one who let you get away.”
“Oh yeah?” she whispered. “Why’s that?”
“Because for a few brief moments of his life he had it all—and threw it away because he couldn’t see past his own mistakes.”
We were quiet the rest of the movie.
She fell asleep in my arms.
So I picked her up, refusing to let her go even if she did wake up for a second, and placed her in my bed.
Where she should have been since the day I walked away without a second glance.
Next to me.
In my arms.
In my life.
Where she was always supposed to be.
When my eyes flickered to the portrait on the nightstand, I smiled. A real smile. Because with the way the picture was facing her—it almost looked like my dad was laughing in approval.
And the best part?
It kinda felt like he was.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
MACKENZIE
I woke up with the picture of Slade’s dad staring me down. Sunlight crept through the windows of his massive bedroom. And I had a hundred and ninety pounds of muscle wrapped around me.
Shirtless.
Tears pricked my eyes.
This was how I was supposed to have woken up in Mexico.
It wasn’t fair.
I tried to slowly pull away.
But he kept me pinned at his side, his nose nuzzling my hair, his voice deep and raspy, and for the first time since working for him, his accent wrapped around me with warmth. My entire body melted.
“Sunday.” He sighed into my neck. “Remember?”
“I know, I just, I have family dinner and—”
“Perfect.” He pulled away, leaving me confused.
“Perfect?” I repeated, voice filled with sleep. “Why is it perfect?”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I shook my head. “My dad and I are fighting, and I may not be his favorite person right now.”
“Mack, I would do anything to fight with my father again . . . don’t let something come between you, even if it seems too large to ignore. Work it out.”
I sat up and faced him. “You’re right.”
His eyes lit up. “Damn, it sounds even better than I imagined it.”
I threw a pillow at his head.
He blocked it with his hands and then tackled me against the mattress. “I’m inviting myself.”
“I see that.”
“I’m also taking you out on a date today.”
“And I’m saying yes?”
His eyes narrowed. “Of course, you do know who I am, right?” I could tell he was teasing, though.
“Careful before I suffocate you with that same pillow.”
He smiled and then sobered immediately. “Let me spoil you today.”
I tried to swallow past the knot in my throat and finally got out, “No yelling? Or accusing me of trapping you into marriage?”
He scowled. “If anyone’s trying to trap anyone, it’s me . . . trapping you. And fair warning, Mack, I always play to win.” He lowered his eyes to my chest.
I looked down.
And I was in nothing but my bra and underwear.
I let out a little gasp. “You, you!” I jabbed my finger at him. “You took my clothes off!”
“I asked your permission.” He winked and then got out of bed wearing only a pair of Nike joggers and a smile. “I took your grunt and snore as your stamp of approval.”
I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
“Hey, at least Alfie knows he’s not the only one who makes noises in his sleep.”
I grabbed the sheet and followed him into the massive bathroom just as he dropped his pants and turned on the shower.
I turned away. And nearly passed out when I felt his body behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “Join me.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You really”—he ran his fingers down my arms—“really should.”
“I’d be naked.”
“Most showers take place that way, yes, unless
you’d rather wear this sheet?” He pulled it down my body until it pooled at my feet.
Next he was unhooking my bra.
I shivered as it fell to the floor, then swayed as heat pulsed between my thighs the minute those same fingertips tugged down my underwear. I felt both longing and loss when he moved his hands.
“Come on,” he urged. “The water’s hot.”
So it really was a shower?
No seduction?
Why did I feel disappointed when that’s what was necessary so I didn’t get hurt again?
Why was I standing there naked in his bathroom?
I hurried into the walk-in rain shower and nearly moaned when the hot water hit my face.
“See?” He chuckled. “I have all the good ideas.”
“The best ideas . . .” I let the water pour over my face and then opened my eyes.
He was staring at my mouth.
Not my naked skin.
But the thing that he saw every day.
As if he was so obsessed nothing else mattered.
“Slade!” Matt’s voice boomed through the large bathroom. “Seriously, answer your phone, you got the Gucci deal.”
My eyes widened in panic as Slade shoved me against the nearest wall and pressed a finger to my lips.
“I’m naked, don’t come in,” he shouted over his shoulder. I took that opportunity to stare at his dazzling cheekbones, plump lips, and perfect hair even under all the water . . . and gulped.
“You realize I’ve seen you naked more than your own mom, right?”
“Don’t make shit weird, Matt!” he yelled back while I gave him a Really? look.
His eyes narrowed as he ran that same finger down my chin and then tugged my lower lip with his teeth, bringing just enough pain with all the pleasure.
I reached for him, only to have my hands slide down his slick, hard stomach.
“Do you . . . are you? There’s wom—do you have company of the female variety? God, you’re such a jackass. You text me last night lamenting the fact that Jagger and Mackenzie were in the same room together alone—almost fucking crying into a bottle of wine—and now you’re with another woman? See! This is why I told you to stay away! Guys like you don’t deserve pretty trust-fund daughters with more brains than you have in your tiny head!”
With every word my smile grew wider until it felt like I was going to bust up laughing.
Slade chuckled under his breath, then whispered to me, “I wasn’t crying . . . my eyes were dry, I used eyedrops, not real tears.”
“Sure?” I said.
“But I did text him like a bitch.”
“Huh, Slade Rodriguez, insecure? I wouldn’t have guessed.” I nuzzled his neck just as he slammed a hand against the wall like he wanted Matt to be anywhere but a few feet away from us.
“Who are you talking to?” Matt roared. “Did she sign an NDA?”
“Fuck the NDA!” Slade yelled back at about the same time I said, “Hey, Matt!”
“Mackenzie!” Matt shouted. “Slade, what did you do!”
“He made me take a shower!” I yelled.
Slade grinned. “Nothing happened!” And then he lowered his voice. “Yet.”
I gasped.
“I should have just gotten a cat,” Matt muttered.
“What was that?” Slade yelled.
“A cat! I should have gotten a cat! And now I have you and Jagger and another pissy athlete that yelled at me when you beat him out for Gucci. You need to be there next week for the photo shoot, they want to use body oils to bring out your muscles in the pictures. Good luck with that one.”
Slade scrunched up his nose.
“And keep it in your pants!” Matt yelled. “You too, Mackenzie! I’ll be watching, well, not watching because that crosses a very professional line, and we both know that sexual harassment is—”
“Matt!” Slade laughed. “Go. Away.”
“Right. Doing just that.” I thought he left and then his voice was back. “Seriously, Slade, don’t . . . just . . . please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Do I often do something stupid?”
Matt was silent.
I wrapped my arms around Slade’s neck and pulled him close until the tips of my breasts were sliding across his chest.
He let out a groan.
“Seriously,” Matt added.
Slade looked down at my lips, captured them with such ferocity that my head slid back against the tile, and then pulled back just long enough to whisper, “Too late.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
SLADE
It had been years since I’d just made out with someone for the sake of making out and not to prime them for more.
I’d forgotten how erotic kissing was.
I’d also forgotten how hard it was when a beautiful naked woman was rubbing against me not to slam her against the wall and pin her there.
I dug my hands into her wet hair as she opened her mouth to me, and hot water fell between our bodies as we kissed. I tasted water against her mouth, with each part of her lips I drank. Her hands dug into me, clung to me like I was going to let her go, and it broke my fucking heart that she might actually think I would do that because of our history.
I wasn’t letting this go.
Her go.
I pressed my palms against hers, interlocking our fingers as I tried to put space between our bodies, but she fought me every way. I laughed against her mouth. “Professional athlete, Mack, nice try, but you’ll lose.”
“We’ll see,” she panted, and then she started sucking on my tongue. I dropped my hands, she walked right into my arms and crushed her mouth aggressively against mine. I was so hard I couldn’t see straight, and her soft body rubbing against me was not making the situation any easier.
“Bad.” I licked a droplet of water off her bottom lip. “Idea.”
“Good idea.”
A frisson of tension spread down my body as I drove my hips against her in search of release.
Her eyes hooded, the slight part of her lips drove me fucking mad as I stepped completely out of her embrace, chest heaving. “I can’t.”
“Nature says otherwise.” She reached for me. I let her because I was weak for her and had been getting progressively weaker where she was concerned.
“Mack.” I bit out her name with a harsh whisper that had my brain telling me how easy it would be to bury myself inside her and take what I’d been wanting since seeing her again.
She dropped her hand, looking crestfallen, from her swollen mouth to her primed, wet body.
I tugged at my hair, then wiped the excess water from my face and took a deep breath, and another, then finally just looked away. “Shower, it was supposed to be a shower.”
“It is a shower.” Her confident, sexy voice was killing me inch by inch. My body was confused as to why it wasn’t already pressed into hers, and my blood throbbed so hard I couldn’t think straight.
“I want . . .” I licked my lips. “No, I need to do this right . . . not in the shower . . .”
Her face lit up. “Does that mean you want me to stop getting wet?” She reached for the knob.
I hung my head and groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me. Stay wet, always stay wet.” I grumbled the last part. “Let’s just . . . wash . . . the Jagger off of you, and then we can go meet your parents.”
She frowned. “How did shower sex go from Jagger to my parents?”
“Easy.” I grabbed some body wash and lathered it up in my hands, then ran it down her shoulders. “I want you smelling like me, not him. And I want to meet the people who gave me you.”
She gulped, and her wide-eyed gaze left mine as if she was afraid to stare too long, afraid to look too hopeful. “Do you really think you should say things like that to me? Might give me the wrong idea.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
She lifted a shoulder as I ran the soap down her belly. “That you want to keep me.”
I knelt i
n front of her and pressed my face between her thighs, whispering against her slick, heated skin. “Consider yourself kept.”
When I looked up, her breath was coming out in harsh gasps like she was already that out of control just from the buzz of my mouth.
I gripped the sides of her thighs, dug my fingers into her flesh, and tugged her legs apart.
Her hands fell to my shoulders for balance. “Slade?”
“Mack?” I winked up at her. “Hold on tight.”
“Afraid I’m going to come apart all over your head or something?”
“Afraid?” I repeated. “No, I’m counting on it, in three, two—”
She tasted like she was already mine.
Don’t ask me how I knew it.
But a man doesn’t forget his first taste.
A man doesn’t forget the way a woman responds to his lips, his tongue, the way her body heavily rested against my mouth with each lick. The way she moaned without even realizing she was moaning. The way she braced one hand against my shoulder, the other in my hair, pulling, directing, loving the ride I was taking her on as her thighs quivered.
Steam billowed around us as I cupped her rounded ass and jerked her against my mouth, opening to receive her, ready to drink her dry and stay there forever.
“Yes, that, just like that,” she panted, her body giving out. And I took it all, every ounce she had, and realized I wouldn’t survive leaving her a second time without losing my mind—my soul—my heart.
And for the first time since my father’s death.
I looked forward to the idea of being lost in something other than my own grief.
Being lost in her.
Chapter Forty
SLADE
She couldn’t walk.
I thought she was just trying to make me puff out my chest and pound it a bit while we walked into the country club.
No.
Not the case.
She was walking funny, and I hadn’t even been inside her again.
I smirked and then squeezed her hand. “My mouth made you stumble—I can’t wait to feel your thighs clench around my—”
“Dad!” she blurted loudly, cheeks flushed. “You look . . .” Another gulp and stumble. “Great.”
He frowned. “Have you been sleeping?”
“She’s sleeping just fine,” I interrupted and held out my hand. “Slade Rodriguez.”
His eyes narrowed. “Ah, the aggressive one.” He didn’t seem impressed as he looked me up and down, taking my measure as though I were an unfamiliar insect invading one of his vineyards. “Alton told me all about you.”
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