Winning Love (19 page)

Chapter Eleven

G
roaning, Gayle shuffled into her house and closed the door.
Finally
. They’d stayed out an extra two days helping the little town with cleanup and had just driven back home this afternoon. After almost a week of living in the SUV and run-down motels, eating fast food or whatever they could grab at a convenience store, she was ready for a long, hot bath with a big glass of wine and her own bed—where she planned to sleep for the next forty-eight hours.

Hopefully.

She and Mac had fallen into a routine the last few days. They’d return to the motel, shower, and then make love before she fell asleep with his warm body curled behind her. Mac had slept peacefully since the tornado, no nightmares, no calling out, and because of that, she’d awoken each morning still wrapped in his arms. She’d gotten used to it. It would be weird being back in the real world, with he over at Lance’s and she at her own home.

It was better that way, though. Mac was getting under her skin in a major way, and her time with him was ticking down. If she didn’t watch herself, she was going to be in for one hell of a rude adjustment when he left.

Too bad those reminders didn’t stop her falling straight back into his arms every time he touched her. She loved having him touch her. Anywhere. Everywhere. Loved how her body responded whether they were taking their time or going at it like two people who were never going to fuck again.

Her nipples tightened thinking about how he took her—over and over. She couldn’t remember a time when her body anticipated a man the way it did him. Was ready for him as soon as he walked into a room.

Maybe it was her age.

She’d heard the older a woman got the more her libido went into overdrive. And, damn, her libido was definitely in overdrive for that man.

She tugged her small suitcase up the stairs, went into her room and straight into the bathroom. After turning on the faucet and adjusting the water, she made her way into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. Wandering back to her bedroom, she put her iPod into the deck and sifted through her song collection until soft classical music filled the air. She really wasn’t in the mood for lyrics right now.

As she slipped into the claw-foot tub, the hot water welcomed her. Sighing, she leaned her head back against the rim and closed her eyes.

No thinking. No memories. Just the symphony of Canon in D soothing her as it always did. No matter how negative a mood she was in, the opus of violins swept it away with peace and calmness. After her family died, she’d spent months listening to it repeatedly, not understanding why it seemed to be the only thing that helped. It wasn’t until her grief became manageable that the reason had hit her. Every night for as long as she could remember, Pachelbel’s Canon had played softly in the background during family dinner. Listening to it made her feel connected to them—still to this day.

The classical piece had played four times before she got busy shaving her legs and scrubbing her body. Feeling truly clean for the first time in days, she belted a terrycloth robe around her and started to go back downstairs. Halfway down, a delicious scent made her mouth water.

He hadn’t.

A small smile threatened and she bit her bottom lip, trying to keep it from blossoming. As she crept toward the kitchen, the aroma became stronger. When she stepped inside, she found a freshly showered Mac standing at her stove, cooking away. The sight was beautiful. His face was drawn in concentration as he flipped something in a pan. She leaned against the doorjamb, watching him. If he was as masterful in the cage as he was in the kitchen, he must surely win every fight. She looked forward to watching him in the cage one day.

He’ll be gone before you get the chance
.

The reminder stung but, knowing the truth of it, she pushed off the frame and moved closer to him. This thing between them was temporary. She’d been lucky to get even this much. He’d completely shut her out before the chase; at least now she was getting to spend time with the man.

And she was used to temporary. Comfortable with it. She would enjoy all the stuff they shared, right up to the end.

“
Mmm
, nothing hotter than a man cooking.”

He sent her a half-cocked smile. “You like this,
huh
?”

“You better watch it, handsome, or I’m going to make sure you burn whatever it is you’re concentrating so hard on over there.”

“Hard is right. But not over the potatoes.”

When she reached his side, he turned his body toward her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The evidence of his arousal pressed into her belly. “Oh. Yes. Very hard,” she whispered.

“Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.” He gave her a swift kiss and smacked her ass. “Go away. I can’t focus when you’re so close. I need to feed you first.”

She sashayed around the counter and did his bidding. “What are we having?”

“We’ve had nothing but crap for the last week. So, I thought a good home-cooked meal was in order tonight.”

“Handsome, the last thing you cook is home-cooked meals. Julia Child couldn’t whip together the meals you make.”

He grinned. “Go ahead and continue stroking the ego. I don’t mind.”

She waggled her brows. “That’s not all I’d like to stroke.”

“Stop,” he said, pointing a spatula at her, but amusement and heat warmed his eyes.

“Fine.” She mock-pouted. “I’ll behave. For now.” He flipped some kind of potato patty. “Seriously, what are we having?”

“Roasted chicken with chardonnay and fresh herbs, potato galette and asparagus with brown buttered breadcrumbs.”

“Ah, so another blah-blee-blue.”

A chortle came from him. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, if it’s as good as the last time, I can’t wait.”

Mac worked over the stove for a while, then asked, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

She rested her chin on a hand. “Sounds like I’m spending it with you.”

His gaze darted to her, then he
tsk
ed softly, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what I’m about to ask you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m game.”

He studied her for a moment. “You really don’t back away from anything, do you?”

The smile she gave felt more strained than usual. He was actually dead wrong. Mac had the ability to break her heart. She’d had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime, so she was deliberately backing away from that possibility—and fast. Keeping things light and sexually charged was all she would allow herself to give him.

She shrugged. “Just call me curious. If you’re wanting me to do something with you, I’m intrigued enough to want to go.”

“There’s a fight tomorrow night. It’s a local MMA circuit. Lance signed up about two months ago to fight, and honestly, I’m itching to get back inside the cage, so Lance is going to see if they’ll fit me in. Not sure yet if they will, but either way, we’ll get to see some fights.”

“Why wouldn’t they let you fight?”

“These are smaller circuits, Gayle. While they have some decent fighters with great potential, they may have only fought a handful of amateur fights and a couple pro-level fights. I’m part of the biggest cage fighting organization in the world. I really have an unfair advantage.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure there will be at least one guy there who’ll be more than willing to fight Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon and gladly take the ass-beating just for the bragging rights.”

A soft laugh. “Looking at it that way, you’re probably right.”

“You won’t get into trouble with your contract or anything?”

He shook his head. “As long as they’re not advertising me and I don’t accept money or wear sponsor gear, I’m good.”

“So I finally get to see you in action, huh? And this will be my first actual fight, too. Hot.”

“I’ll show you hot afterward.”

She grinned. “Oh. I’m counting on it.”

Mac plated the food, handed one to her, and she sat down at the table. As her gaze bounced between the beautifully golden chicken breast and the crispy potato patty, she couldn’t decide where to start. Her stomach grumbled in protest. She finally dug in to the potatoes and her taste buds shot to their feet, cheering. Jesus, the man could cook.

“How is it?” Mac asked.

She paused in chewing and sent him an incredulous look. “Really? You seriously have to ask?”

Chuckling, he cut into his chicken and took a bite. They ate without speaking, because there was no talking when consuming Mac’s meals. She savored every delish morsel of the amazing talent he no longer shared with the public. It really was a damn shame.

As she enjoyed the food, she watched him eat—watched his lips part, then close around the fork, his jaw work as he chewed. He made even the simple act of eating hot as hell.

So much so, when she felt the belt of her robe loosen, instead of tightening it, she left it alone, shifting occasionally to encourage more slacking. Slowly the robe began to gape, widening until it hung off one shoulder and displayed the top of her breast. If the way Mac kept pausing during chews was any indication, he’d noticed. She pretended to be oblivious.

As much as she loved it when Mac took his time with her, right now she throbbed for a mauling. She hoped with this tease, she’d either be up against a wall or bent over a table as soon as they finished dinner. The moment he placed his fork on his plate, she stood and leaned over, letting the front gap as she gathered the plates. He stilled, his gaze latching onto her.

Fighting a smirk of triumph, she straightened. As she turned, the weak knot barely keeping the robe closed gave way completely, and the fabric fell open. With her back to him, he couldn’t see, but he knew she was now exposed. The ultimate tease. She couldn’t have planned that better if she’d tried. And, one…two…three…

His chair scraped against the hardwood.

Pursing her lips in satisfaction, she continued to the sink, listening to his steps advancing behind her.

When it came to sex, she and Mac were totally eye-to-eye.

Knowing she was seconds from having him attack her, she quickly placed the dishes in the sink. They had not even stopped rattling before his arms were around her, his hands roaming over her bare stomach as he buried his lips into the side of her neck, nipping along the sensitive skin. Cupping both breasts in his large, capable hands, he kneaded the mounds, then tweaked both nipples. Pleasure rushed straight down to pulse at her clit. She gasped, leaning her head back against his chest. God, she
loved
when he did that.

As he ground his cock against her ass, making her rub against him, making her throb harder for him, he slid his palms over her belly until they rested on her hips, and he started walking them backward. When they’d cleared the counter, he turned and started moving forward. The entire time his lips trailed across her neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin. Closing her eyes, she reached behind her and threaded her hand in his hair, holding his face closer to her. Pressing her backside to the hard ridge poking her from behind. She throbbed for him. Needed him.

The kitchen table met the top of her thighs. He pushed her down with a hand in the middle of her back and she went without protest, laying her cheek on the cool wood. He shoved the robe up off her backside and she widened her stance, anticipating his invasion, waiting for him to fill her in one quick thrust.

There wouldn’t be foreplay, touching, or caressing. This was going to be hard and fast. And she enjoyed that as much as she did gentle and slow. Prone as she was, and with him behind her, she was at his mercy. He controlled everything, from the pace of how he took her, to how deep he went and how hard. Knowing that only increased her lust for him.

There was a rip of foil, then she felt him probing for her, the hard, wonderful head that would lead to the long, solid length of him inside her. She held her breath, waiting. Would he do it quick? Or agonizingly slow?

He took the slow option. One excruciating inch at a time. Wanting to have all of him buried inside her, she whimpered and pushed back, trying to shove him in, but a sharp smack on the ass stopped her.
Inflamed her
.

“
My
way, Gayle.” He slipped a little farther inside and a groan erupted from him. Her clit pulsed in response. “I want to feel every inch of you welcoming every inch of me.”

When he finally had his pelvis pressed against the back of her thighs, cock embedded to the hilt, he ground against her. “Fuck me, woman, you feel so good.”

He withdrew and thrust forward. A slow, methodical pace that continuously filled her to the brim, then left her empty, filled her, left her empty.

She moaned his name, helpless to do anything to make him speed up. She tried to lift up onto her elbows and met the resistance of his palm between her shoulder blades. He gently pushed her down and held her there, keeping the pressure of his hand on her back as he kept the torturous pace he’d set. “What do you want, Gayle?”

“F-faster.”

“Slow not working for you?” He thrust harder, making her gasp.

“N-no.” Again he withdrew slowly, then thrust forward hard. The impact on her clit made her groan as pleasure erupted through her.

“Really? You sure about that?” He did it again, and she cried out as pressure built between her legs. God, if he’d just go at it she’d come, but this slow build was keeping her right at the brink, building fuller and fuller inside her so she felt ready to explode…but she wasn’t going over the edge. Again, he withdrew and thrust hard.

“Mac!” she groaned. “Please.”

“Oh, you’re going to get it, baby, but you have to pay for that little tease over dinner. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing.”

She’d done this to herself. If she’d just left well enough alone, she’d be getting the taking she wanted, but instead Mac was teasing her as mercilessly as she’d teased him. There was no clit play, no end to the slow-withdrawal-and-hard-thrust pace he set. Just the increasing, almost uncomfortable, detonation building inside her.

Hell, if that was the way he was going to be—