Rekindled (5 page)

He didn’t want logic, or thought. He wanted to pull her expensive skirt up around
her hips, leave the designer shoes on, and bend her over the counter and show her
all about hot and sweaty and definitely not missionary position with the light off.

But the warning, the one that was telling him
Bad Idea
, was only getting louder and more insistent.

She works for you, you dumbass.

Oh. Yes. That.

And he was the asshole kissing his housekeeper. While she was making him a cake. A
cake he was paying her to bake. And he was kissing her like a sex-starved teenage
boy, and he couldn’t seem to stop.

Stop. You have to stop.

And he did. Somehow. He put his hands on her hips and pushed her firmly back while
he pulled away.

“Lucy. No. This is a bad… this is a bad bad idea.” His rock-hard cock begged
to differ.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes huge, glittery.

“Because you work for me. You’re my housekeeper. You cook my food, you… you… .”

“I scrub your floors,” she said, sounding dazed.

“I can’t do this.”

She drew back as though he’d slapped her. “I see. So… I’m beneath you now. Because
I’m the housekeeper. Wow. That must have felt good, Mac. That must have felt pretty
damn good.”

“Lucy, that’s not…”

“What? You’re just not that into me? It’s not me, it’s you? You should just stop before
it gets awkward. Oh, wait, that ship has sailed. Why don’t you stop before I’m tempted
to commit violence then?”

“Lucy…”

“Save it. I have frosting to make. And since it’s the only dessert you’re going to
have today, you may want to make sure I don’t screw it up.”

“Women are fucking inscrutable.”

“It’s not even five, and you’re at least one beer over your limit.”

“I am not, Lucas,” Mac said, knowing he sounded like the drunk ass he was.

“You used fucking and inscrutable in the same sentence. Yes, my friend, you are a
bit drunk for a Monday afternoon.”

Mac scowled into his bottle. He was still on fire from that kiss with Lucy. He wanted
very badly for chocolate cake to be a pre-dessert to what would be his real dessert,
which would involve Lucy and her naked body. In bed, against the wall, whatever, he
wasn’t particular.

“Women really aren’t all that hard to figure out, Mac,” Lucas said. “She wanted you.
You said no. You damaged her pride. Simple.”

“I was being a gentleman,” he said. “Probably for the first time ever. And I get no
thanks. None at all.”

“No. You’re a gentleman a lot more than you think. But go on.”

“I was being a gentleman. Not pressuring the woman who works for me into having sex
with me. A woman dependent on the paycheck she gets from me. Dependent on me for the
roof over her head. Morally that ranks up there with stealing money out of your grandma’s
purse.”

“It doesn’t matter. She wanted you; you turned her down. When I was first with Carly—”

“I don’t want to hear about you and my little sister. I don’t care how relevant it
is. I don’t care if the story contains clues as to how to solve world hunger, I don’t
ever want to hear anything about how you hooked up with Carly.”

“Fine. It might have helped you.”

“It won’t. I’m not in love with Lucy. I want to do it with her.”

“You’re classy when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t want to marry her. She doesn’t want to marry me. She just spent nearly a
decade married to the biggest douche bag on the planet,” Mac said.

“It sounds like you both want the same thing.”

“Except I’m in a position of power.”

“You don’t seem real powerful to me, man. You seem like some woman has you by the
balls.”

“I wish she did.”

“You have got to stop drinking.”

Mac stood up and his head spun in a circle. Or maybe it just felt like it did. Either
way, it sucked. “Yeah, okay. I need to stop drinking.”

“What would Carly say if she could see us, sitting in a bar in the middle of the day?
We’re maligning the reputation the good councilwoman has worked so hard to build up.”

“She’s your problem. Not mine.”

Lucas smiled and slapped him on the back. “I know. Aren’t I a lucky bastard?”

“You’re a bastard, anyway.”

“Great. Now I’m going to drive you home.”

“My truck is parked out front. If it ends up here for hours on end it’s going to look
bad.”

“Great. Let people talk.”

“Honestly, you know Carly hates that.”

Lucas smiled, that smug getting-laid-all-the-time smile. “She doesn’t hate it so much
anymore.”

“Your influence?”

“Yeah. I’m a baaaad influence on your sister, Mac.”

Mac showed Lucas a choice finger and walked out of the bar ahead of him. The sun did
a good job of stabbing its way into his skull and through his buzz.

He stopped by Lucas’s truck and blew out a breath. “I don’t know how much longer I
can play gentleman, to be honest. I think maybe I should let her go.”

“So, you’ll fire her because you want to sleep with her, so that you don’t sleep with
her while she works for you and feel like you’ve taken advantage of her? One of those
options is stupid.”

“Oh really, which one?”

“Well, in one of them, neither of you has an orgasm and she’s out of a job.”

Mac looked at the ground. “Huh.”

“And in one of them she still has a job and you both get some.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might.”

“You make it sound easy.”

Lucas shrugged. “Stop trying to be her hero and let the woman make her own damn decisions.”

***

“He turned me down.”

“What?”

Lucy shifted the phone to her other ear and clamped it down with her shoulder so that
she could open the oven and check her roast chicken. “He turned me down. Mac did.
I kissed him and he told me to stop.”

“This doesn’t sound like a baking question.” Sarah had the bad luck of being the only
woman in Lucy’s life who was speaking to her, and that meant she had to field all
questions pertaining to issues of cooking and men.

“It’s not. It’s not even a question. It’s more of a general whine. But I haven’t made
a move on a guy since my divorce. Scratch that, I’ve never made a move on a man in
my life, and I’m only slightly bruised over the fact that I offered him sex. Sweaty,
hot sex, no less, and he said no. Why would he do that?”

Sarah cleared her throat. “I’m, um… not sure I’m the person you should be asking
for advice from on this… particular… subject.”

“Seriously. Is there something wrong with me?”

“No!” Sarah answered quickly.

“I didn’t think so. I’ve spent the past few months getting increasingly sure that
there wasn’t anything wrong with me, in spite of what my ex said. And stupidly, today
made me feel like there was something wrong again. I’m tired of that feeling.”

“It
is
tiresome,” Sarah said on a sigh.

“What’s wrong with a couple of adults with mutual needs taking care of those needs
in a horizontal fashion?”

“Uh…”

“And what’s wrong with a woman taking charge of what she wants? Of grabbing the bull
by the horns, so to speak, and riding a man like a cowgirl? Huh? What?”

“N-nothing…” Sarah said it as if it was a slow revelation. “Nothing at all.”

“Exactly. So why is he being such a prude?”

“Maybe you should ask him.”

“No,” Lucy rested her hand on the counter and drummed her fingers. “I don’t want to
do that. I’ll sound desperate.”

“You sound desperate to me.”

“Because I am! For sex. Not a relationship. I’ve had enough of relationships to last
me my whole life. I just want sex. Nothing but meaningless, hot—”

She heard a noise behind her and turned around to see Mac standing in the doorway,
looking like he’d just put his head in a horse trough.

“I gotta go.” She hung the phone up. “What happened to you?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he said, his tone surly.

“From what? Why you’re dripping all over the kitchen floor?”

“Lucas took it upon himself to sober me up. Frankly, I wasn’t drunk enough to merit
the punishment. You were talking about sex.”

“And you were eavesdropping on my private conversation.”

“That you were having on my phone. During your work hours.”

“I called about a… cooking question.”

“What question?”

“Something about chicken?”

“Lucy…”

“I’m not talking about this. A girl’s ego can only take so many beatings. I’m not
going to stand here and let you willingly punch it.”

“I didn’t punch your ego on purpose. Listen to me. You’re working for me. You live
here as part of your pay. If I take you up on your sweaty sex offer, I will always
feel like I might have manipulated you into it in some way. And even if I don’t feel
that way, people will definitely question it if they find out. I pay you to work here,
and I don’t want people wondering if I’m paying you to share my bed.”

“You’re overthinking it, Mac. I didn’t ask for anything other than one night.”

“It would take a lot more than one night to burn all this out.”

“You think?” she asked.

“I know.”

“High opinion of yourself there.”

“So? I know that I’m good in bed.”

She couldn’t help herself—she laughed. “Oh, really? And what guy knows he sucks in
bed?”

“Trying to goad me into a demonstration?”

“Nope. Just asking. I’m sure my ex thinks he’s a racehorse in bed, but he’s more like
those little Shetland ponies that get walked around on a lead rope at petting zoos.”

“Then trust me, I know a lot more about what I’m talking about than you do.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I’ve had some really good sex, Lucy.” His eyes met hers, the fire in them intense.
“And you should try it sometime.”

“Men always think sex is good. You can just have finished a bitter fight where they
called you fat and ugly and they still get off. Let me tell you a secret: The woman
doesn’t. Unless she’s into something freaky. And I’m not.”

“Oh, baby, you’ve been missing out.”

“All talk, Denton. You’re all talk. You’re too busy defending my honor to give me
any sort of demonstration.”

“Because someone should defend your honor!”

“Bullshit!” Anger rolled through her on a boil, her fingertips tingling, her face
hot. “That’s what everyone says they’re doing! Defending my honor. Trying to get me
to do the right thing. Stupid Daniel was just trying to help me be better. My parents
just want me to be responsible. I don’t want to do the right thing. Or the responsible
thing. I want to do what I damn well please!”

She stopped, her breath coming in sharp gasps, her hands clenched so tightly into
fists that her nails were cutting half moons into her palms.

Mac just looked at her, his eyes locked onto hers. Then, suddenly, she was in his
arms, and he was kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.

Mac’s lips were hot and hard on hers, and she was sure she would never get enough.
He smelled like beer. And hose water. And he was still sexy.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his damp hair,
holding him tightly to her. She never wanted him to stop. Never wanted this to stop.
She needed more, needed him, like air. Needed something to fill up that emptiness
inside of her, to answer the unbearable ache that was building at the apex of her
thighs.

She arched into him, trying to get some friction, trying to find a little satisfaction.
The kind that had been denied her for way too long. And she wasn’t just talking orgasms.
Just having what she wanted. Something for her.

Rough, hot hands slid beneath the hem of her top and she couldn’t hold back the groan
that escaped her lips. She didn’t want to anyway. She didn’t care about being proper,
or demure, or anything right now. Because this was about her. Her and no one else.

Mac’s body was a carnival. And she so badly wanted to ride.

She moved her hands down his chest—his very muscular, sexy chest—and pushed her hands
beneath his t-shirt. The fabric was wet and peeled slowly up from his skin. It almost
made it better.

She broke their kiss for a moment so she could watch the dark fabric pull away and
reveal washboard flat abs and tan skin covered in just the right amount of golden
hair. It was like he wasn’t even real. Just a mishmash of her deepest fantasies brought
to life in front of her.

She tugged his shirt over his head, and he helped. She sucked in a sharp breath and
put her hand on his stomach. He was the sexiest sight she’d ever seen: shirtless,
in a pair of low, tight jeans, with a belt that had a buckle at the center that was
surely designed to point her gaze to the main attraction.

There was no hiding his arousal. No concealing the fact that he was a seriously impressive
man.

She kissed the line of his jaw, his neck, her fingers sliding down to cup his denim-covered
erection. He was heavy and perfect in her hand. Everything she wanted and more.

“If you don’t want this,” she said, her voice broken by short, sharp breaths, “then
say so. I don’t want you protecting me, but I’m also not letting you do this because
you pity me.”

He put his hand over hers and pushed it down harder on his cock. “Does this feel like
I’m pitying you?”

“Nope.” She squeezed him again, running her palm over the length of him. “But I need
to be sure. I needed to give you the out.”

“I don’t want an out,” he growled. “I should. But I don’t. What I want is to tear
off that prissy little outfit and have my way with you.”

“I’m absolutely in favor of that.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He tugged at the front of her blouse, popping a button
off and sending it rolling across the stone floor. “Sorry,” he said, his mouth quirked
into a half smile.

“No you aren’t.”

“Not in the least.” He tightened his hold on her and pressed a kiss to her lips, walking
her backward as he did, till her back made contact with the living room wall. He reached
around her back and unhooked her bra in one, swift motion that would have made her
ex green with envy. No struggling over hooks and eyes for Mac, that was for sure.

He pushed her blouse off of her shoulders and it and her bra fell to the floor. “So
sexy,” he said, his words sounding choked, labored. She liked it.

“You too,” she said, hands on his belt buckle, making quick work of it and the snap
and fly on his jeans. He shrugged them off and she did the same with her skirt and
panties. She started to toe off her high heels but he stopped her.

“Leave them on.”

“Really?”

“Fantasy. Needs fulfilling.”

“Sounds fair.”

And then he kissed her again, and she couldn’t think, let alone speak. He raised his
hands up to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples, tightening them, tightening
a coil low in her belly. She’d never been pushed so close to the edge so fast. She
wanted him, all of him—forget gentle. Forget foreplay. Forget anything but just having
him, hot, hard and perfect inside of her.

He parted from her for a moment, bending down and grabbing his jeans, fishing around
in the back pocket for his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled a condom out, throwing
the wallet carelessly back to the floor and rolling the protection down his length.

Then he was back, hot and insistent against her, kissing her with all the passion
of a man who had been wandering in the desert and found an oasis.

“Now,” she said against his mouth. “Please, Mac. We’ll do this other stuff later,
and it will be great, but right now, I just want you.”

“No argument from me.” He grasped onto her thigh and hooked it up over his hip, the
blunt head of his erection testing her, moving in slowly at first. Then he flexed
forward and thrust hard inside of her.

She gasped and let her head fall back, nails digging into his shoulders, a white-hot
streak of pleasure that was so bright it nearly blinded her moving through her body.

Nothing had ever felt so good. It had never been like this. She’d never simply enjoyed
the act like this. Had never just reveled in being filled by her partner.

As he rocked against her, searing heat roared through her, his pelvis coming up against
her clit with each movement, each thrust into her body. He lowered his head and took
one of her nipples between his lips, sucking, teasing.

She forked her fingers into his hair and held on. She was probably pulling. And it
probably hurt. But he didn’t complain.

He gripped her thigh harder, blunt fingertips digging into her flesh, the rhythm and
force of his movements increasing. She was lost in it. Surrounded by him. His heat,
his smell, his body.

She moved her hands down his back, could feel his muscles shivering beneath her palms.
Could sense the edges of his control fraying to the point of breaking. The evidence
of her effect on him, of his need for her, was enough to push her over the edge.

Pleasure rolled through her like a thundercloud, dark, frightening, pouring release
down on her, through her, sending flashes of light behind her eyes.

And then Mac followed her over, a harsh groan signaling his orgasm, his body going
stiff against hers as he lost himself in her. He buried his face in her neck, dropping
a kiss to her sensitive skin.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. There was no sound in the room other
than their labored breathing. Other than her heart pounding in her ears.

Then he withdrew from her, stepped away. He pushed his hand back through his hair
and surveyed the clothes on the floor.

He took a breath and looked at her like he meant to say something, then let the air
out of his lungs, put his hands on his lean hips and looked back down at the floor.
He bent at the waist, muscles shifting beneath smooth golden skin, and started collecting
their clothes.

“Yours, I think,” he said, handing her the black lace bra.

“Unless you have a little secret you haven’t shared with me.”

“Not that kind of secret.”

“I can handle a little kink,” she said, hoping to use humor to diffuse the knot of
emotion that was tightening in her chest, binding up her heart and lungs, making it
difficult to breathe.

“Oh, can you?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“To date, the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done is have sex with you in broad daylight
against a wall.”

“We may have to work on that, Lucy.”

“You’re assuming I want a repeat performance.” She did.

“Yeah, I’m cocky like that.” He was. “But when a woman screams in my ear the way you
just did…”

“I did not.” She totally had.

“We can use the scratch marks on my back as exhibit A.”

“I’m sure I didn’t leave any…” He turned around. And it turned out she had.

There were raised pink lines going from the tops of his shoulders down to the middle
of his back. Five on each side and spaced just right so that if she put her hands
against them in the shape of a claw, they matched right up.

Dear Lord, what had he done to her?

The kitchen timer buzzed. “That’d be the chicken,” she said. For some reason that
made her feel embarrassed, when nothing else had. Not the revelation of her marks
on his skin, not standing naked in front of him save a pair of high heels. No, the
fact that she was currently roasting the man a chicken, and had taken time out to
do him against a wall—now, that was embarrassing.

Mac walked out of the room and returned a few moments later, condom neatly disposed
of.

“I’m sure we just violated some health codes in a major way,” he said, tugging his
jeans on.

“I’m sure.”

She bent down and collected her clothes, dressing as quickly as she could, not looking
at Mac once.

“Want to stay for dinner? It’s the least I could do,” he said, still buttoning his
shirt.

She walked into the kitchen and took a pair of oven mitts off of the counter and slipped
them on. “I don’t know.”

“After that? I owe you a meal.”

“I thought you wanted to stay away from that whole sex-for-payment thing.”

“But sex being… rewarded… with dinner is a tradition as old as time. I think.”

She frowned, her body buzzing, her shirt gaping at the neck where Mac had permanently
removed a button. “I don’t think I want a reward, actually.”

“Fine, bad choice of words. Eat with me because I want you to. I would like to have
your company. How about that?”

“That’s a little better.” She took the chicken pan out of the oven and set it on the
counter, and when she turned, Mac was right in front of her. “I think I need some
time alone,” she said.

He reached out and took ahold of her arms, just below her black, bulky oven mitts,
and tugged her forward, pressing a deep, sensual kiss to her lips.

She put her hands on his cheeks, then realized she was still wearing her oven mitts.
She lifted her hands and shook them off onto the floor behind them, and put her hands
back on his face, returning the kiss with all the passion that was, surprisingly,
still burning as hotly inside of her as it had been pre-orgasm.

He pulled away from her and took a step back, sweeping her up and down with a quick,
very male look that lingered at her breasts and slowly, slowly, returned to her eyes.
“Yeah, it’ll happen again. And you’ll have dinner with me.”

She didn’t even have a good set down for that. Nothing. Any biting remark she might
have come up with was lost deep in the ether of arousal that was currently fogging
her brain.

“Fine,” she said. “But only because I don’t want to eat the chicken cold.”

“It’s as good a reason as any. Hungry?”

“Starving.” She hoped that didn’t sound as euphemistic to him as it did to her. Her
face felt flushed, and just that one kiss had her on the edge of release again. She
leaned against the counter and pressed her knees together, trying to get a grip on
the wild, animal, decidedly not-normal lust that was currently coursing through her.

“Great.” He started setting the table and she just sort of stopped and watched, stunned
by how bizarre the whole thing felt. And how comfortable it felt at the same time.

She didn’t know what kind of reaction she should be having, but the one she was having
didn’t seem like it could possibly be right.

He looked at her again, the expression in his eyes positively X-rated. It wasn’t hard
to tell what he was thinking. More of what had already happened. Maybe on the table
this time. An appetizer?

She needed her head checked. But she didn’t care. She started to walk into the dining
room, her eyes locked with his, her heart pounding hard.

The front door opened wide, and Lucas Miller walked in with Mac’s sister Carly. She
froze in place, realizing that the front door had been unlocked the whole time. And
that they could so easily have been walked in on—which had been just seconds away
from happening. Given ten more seconds she was reasonably sure that Mac could have
had her topless and on her back.

“Hey, smells good in here,” Lucas said, flashing her a smile.

Carly smiled and waved. “Hello. We were in the neighborhood. Thought we’d stop by
and see if there was dinner. Do you have room for some additions, Mac?”

She and Mac were still frozen, staring at each other, with the dining table separating
them. It took half a second, but Mac suddenly kicked into gear again.

“Of course,” he said. “Let me get a couple more plates. Lucy was going to join me.
She has been lately.”

“That’s nice,” Carly said.

She and Lucas crossed the room, holding hands. The easy nature of their relationship
hit Lucy hard. She’d never felt at ease with a partner before. Not with Daniel, certainly.
She’d felt on edge all the time. And—not that Mac was her partner—but with him she
felt on edge in a whole different way.

“Yes,” Lucas added, giving Mac a meaningful look. “Nice.” There was something about
the way he said the word that made her feel like he knew just a little bit too much.

Lucy wanted to melt into the floor. “Mac is just beyond generous,” she said, missing
the potential double entendre until it was too late.

Mac snorted, and she wanted to kill him. “I am that,” he said. “A candidate for sainthood,
even.”

“Right,” Carly said, taking a seat at the table. “Ugh.” She leaned forward and put
her head in her hands.

“Rough day at the office?” Mac asked.

“Yeah, you know how everyone on the council is,” Lucas said. “Older than dirt and
traditional as hell. Carly was put in charge of organizing a banquet for the school.”

“Which they want to be black tie. Which… great, fine. They do that every year.
But the thing is, it excludes every citizen that isn’t part of the elite, no offense,
Lucy.”

“I’m hardly part of the elite now,” Lucy muttered, grabbing two extra place settings
and putting them on the table.