by Abby Niles
“How about we go grab that beer we earned and something to eat?” he suggested.
Her lips split into a pleased smiled. Yeah, she definitely believed she had the upper hand again. “That sounds great.”
Within minutes they were sipping an ice-cold brew. Mac had selected a Polish dog while Gayle had settled on chili. They found a picnic table to listen to the live band. Mac waited for her to sit down, then took a seat beside her, making sure to press his thigh into hers. She froze for a second and shot him a look.
He had to take a gulp of his beer to fight back a chuckle.
This was fun. He liked throwing her off balance. God knew, the woman had kept him on his toes since the moment he’d met her. It was time for him to return the favor.
He leaned over and whispered, “That streak of mud between your breasts is pretty fucking hot.”
Her mouth dropped open and her head fell forward to look at her cleavage, then she gave a sputtered laugh and pointed her spoon at him. “You’re as bad as I am.”
Grinning, he took another swallow of his beer, only to scowl when Milton came and practically sat on her lap. He hadn’t liked the familiarity between the two earlier, and he liked it even less now. And yet, it bothered him that he was bothered by it.
“Hey, gorgeous. How was the race?”
“As exciting as ever. What’s your opinion, Mac?”
“It won’t be my last, especially if Gayle is going to be my partner.”
Milton squeezed an arm around her. “Gayle is pretty damn awesome, isn’t she? She’s run with me on a couple of races over the years. It’s always an adventure when she’s involved.”
Mac tensed. “How long have you guys known each other?”
“What? Two or three years? Gayle taught a seminar a few years ago that I attended. I hung around afterward because I had to get the beautiful professor’s digits.” He grinned like a fool.
“You guys used to date?” He’d deal with the professor part later.
“Used to? Hell, we still hook up from time to time. What do you say, babe, tonight? Nine o’clock. Your place?”
A fiery stab of jealously pierced Mac’s gut.
Gayle slapped Milton on the arm. “Would you stop! His wife of three years is right over there.” She pointed to the dark-haired woman handing out beers. “I met them both at the seminar.”
Milton leaned in conspiratorially. “Did I forget to mention she hooks up with me and my wife from time to time?”
“For God’s sake, Milton.”
He laughed, then stood. “I’ve got to get back. Glad you came, Gayle.” He waggled his eyebrows and Gayle rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
“Don’t mind him. Milton loves to be shocking. He gets a kick out of people’s reactions. He’s harmless, though.”
Mac dropped the remainder of his dog in the container and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Jealousy. What the fucking hell? Gayle wasn’t a permanent. She was a temporary. That was the compromise he’d come to earlier. Keep his distance emotionally, but allow himself to have some fun. Gayle was the perfect person to do that with—but he didn’t plan for this to be any more than a good time while he was here. He needed to tell her that, as much as he needed to remind himself, apparently.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“Can we be up front with each other?” he asked. If she didn’t like what he had to say, it was probably better things ended now, anyway.
“I prefer honesty.”
“I’m only here for a few weeks while I help Lance out.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’ve really been persistent in spending time with me, so if you thought a lasting relationship would come out of this, it’s not going to happen. I’m not looking for one.”
She blinked at him. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”
Her response confused him. “Yeah.”
“Why is it when a man pursues a woman he only wants sex, but when a woman pursues a man, she’s trying to tie him down?” She leaned forward. “Here’s a little piece of news for you, Mac. There are a lot of women out there who aren’t looking for anything more than a good time. I’m one of them. I saw you. Thought you were hot as hell and wanted to fuck you. It’s that simple.”
At her words, he inhaled sharply. God, the woman really did hold nothing back. She’d most likely be the same way in bed. And didn’t that thought cause his gut to clench.
“I’ll forgive this one little slipup of yours because I get the impression you have been out of the dating scene for awhile, and I can see why you took my actions the way you did. But, are we clear now?”
He swallowed. “Perfectly.”
She smiled and squeezed his forearm. “Good. Now, what would you like to do with the rest of the day?”
He knew exactly where the day was headed. There’d be no stopping them, and he wasn’t going to fight it. “I want to make you dinner,” he said. And added meaningfully, “At your place.”
Chapter Five
Mac checked the grocery bag for the fifth time to make sure he had everything packed. Fucking nerves. Since he’d returned from the race, the fact that it’d been years since he’d been with a woman for the first time had started to get the better of him. He’d been fine until he’d borrowed Lance’s truck to run to the grocery store to pick up what he needed to cook dinner. Then reality had given him a stinging bitch-smack across the face. Where?
In the condom aisle.
He hadn’t bought protection in over a decade. The wide assortment presented before him had almost made him lose his cool. Glow in the dark? Really? In the end, he’d ended up grabbing a box of extra ribbed. The nerves were temporary, though, a mind-over-matter situation. He always got edgy before he took the walk to face his opponent.
Unfortunately, his need to be prepared had brought forth a serious case of holy-shit-he-was-having-sex-tonight awareness. Made him think stupid-as-shit stuff like, what if he was rusty? Or clumsy?
The hell he would be.
As soon as he saw Gayle tonight, all that raging lust would take control again and he’d dominate the fuck out of her bed. Just as he did in the cage.
Oh, yes, he would.
Damn, he liked this new way of thinking.
While he’d battled his demons on the course, Gayle had become his today—his in-the-moment. She wasn’t his future—and thankfully she was on the same page with him about that—but she was a symbol of the future he could hope to have with somebody, someday.
Taking Gayle’s hand had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he’d done it. He’d taken one huge step toward letting people into his life again. It terrified the living crap out of him.
The back screen door squeaked open, then snapped shut. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lance step into the kitchen.
“Hey,” his friend said.
Other than to borrow his truck, he and Lance hadn’t really spoken since last night. Seemed clearing the air with his friend was becoming a constant part of being back in Kansas. “You were right. Gayle’s gotten under my skin, and I was freaked the hell out. I was struggling with my attraction to her.”
Lance regarded him evenly. “All said in past tense. Something change?”
“Gayle took me to a mud race.” Mac exhaled with what may have sounded like resignation, but was anything but. “She has a way about life. She just enjoyed every damn second we were out there. She made me want to enjoy it. I hadn’t felt like that in a long time, and I kissed her. It felt good. Right. So, yeah, something changed.”
He waited for Lance to respond, but all he got was a squeeze of the shoulder as Lance walked past. Before he walked out of the room, his friend said, “She’ll be good for you, Mac.”
Staring at the empty doorway, he hoped to hell Lance was right, and this wasn’t the biggest mistake of his life. Taking a steadying breath, he gathered up the bags and started the trek across the field.
As he reached the edge of her yard, Gayle stepped out onto
her porch and an unfamiliar sensation squeezed inside his chest. A smile tugged his lips. Just like that, the hours of edginess were gone.
“Hey, handsome,” she called.
He strode across the lawn, taking in her pale yellow tube-top sundress. The tops of her shoulders were slightly pink from the day in the sun, and her auburn hair hung freely around their slender curves. He trotted up the stairs, and his grin broke free at her bare feet.
“Hey, yourself,” he said when he’d unstuck his tongue at the tempting picture.
She opened the door and motioned for him to go inside.
The modest living room was decorated in such non-Gayle colors it took him by surprise. “White walls and beige furniture doesn’t seem to fit you.”
The house didn’t have a Gayle feeling at all. No pictures on the wall. No personality. Even the throw rug on the deep cherry wood floor was just a boring mixture of neutral colors.
A chuckle sounded behind him. “Decorating is overrated.” She pointed to her left to another room. “That’s a bonus room. I spend more time in there than I do in here.”
He craned his neck to peer inside. Laptops and a lot of unfamiliar equipment. “Like a work space?”
“Yeah. I really only use the living room when I have Skylar here or watch a movie.” She motioned to the stairs. “Of course that’s the upstairs. Two bedrooms and a full bath up there.” As she walked through the living room, she pointed to a door on the left. “There’s a half bath down here. This is a much smaller place than Lance’s.” She disappeared through a doorway at the back of the living room. “And this is the kitchen.”
Now, this wasn’t so bad. The room still didn’t have a sense of Gayle at all, but he loved the polished wood walls and floor. Very rustic. The actual kitchen wasn’t huge, just a U-shaped setup with a limited amount of counter space. The stove was positioned so when he cooked, he could still converse with someone seated at the table. He placed his bags on the counter.
“I’m starving. What are we having?”
“Baked courgette and wild mushroom risotto.”
The blank expression she gave him had him coughing into his fist to cover a laugh. The woman had no idea what the hell that was.
“Um. Sounds delish.”
“It won’t take me long. I’ve precooked everything except the risotto.”
“Well get to it, handsome. That chili didn’t stay with me long. I’m famished.”
“Can’t have that.”
After she showed him where the cookware was, he went to work heating the chicken stock in a pan, then warming olive oil in another pan. He added the arborio rice with a splash of white wine. While he waited for it to bubble, he was aware of Gayle watching him from the far end of the counter. It’d been a long time since he’d cooked for a woman, and he found he still enjoyed it.
“You know your way around a kitchen,” she mused.
“I should. I used to be a chef.”
A moment of silence followed. He glanced over at her. She was standing up straight instead of leaning against the edge of the counter. She shook her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Used to be head chef at Tuscany in Kansas City.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s, like, the most expensive restaurant in Missouri.”
“Uh, yeah, I know.” He chuckled at her dumfounded expression.
She snapped her mouth shut, then shook her head again. Holy shit. Gayle Matthews was actually speechless. He never thought he’d see the day.
“And you let me feed you my cooking?” She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “And it was cold. I’m horrified.”
“If you’ll remember, the cold part was my fault.” He added the heated stock to the rice. “And even cold, the chicken you made was lovely.”
She grimaced. “Yeah, it really compares to the blah-blee-blue you’re cooking.”
Laughter shot out his mouth. “Courgette and wild mushroom risotto.”
“Like I said, blah-blee-blue.” She shrugged. “Okay, shock worn off. I’m going to eat this up for all it’s worth, and considering how expensive that damn restaurant is, I know how much this dinner is worth.”
The grin wouldn’t leave his lips as he sautéed the mushrooms. Once he had them completed, he added it to the risotto and sprinkled in the parmesan. He then divided the meal onto two plates, turned, and held one out to her. “Bon appétit.”
“This looks amazing.”
And suddenly he was very self-conscious. He wanted her to enjoy it, but what if she didn’t? He didn’t cook much anymore. Just on occasion, like when he’d helped Tommy with Julie. What if he added too much wine or sea salt? “I’m a little rusty. So I hope it’s good.”
The smile she sent him eased his worries. “This is going to be the best blah-blee-blue I’ve ever had.”
She took the plate and sat down at the wooden kitchen table. He took the chair across from her, watching as she dipped her spoon in and took a bite. Her eyes closed and a low moan came from her.
“Now I am truly horrified you ate my chicken.”
Relief had him releasing a breath. “Glad you like it.”
They ate in silence, mostly because Mac couldn’t concentrate on anything besides watching Gayle enjoy his food—which she did with the same relish that she lived life. Each bite came with a cock-hardening moan of appreciation and mumbled words of praise. Would she be just as vocal in bed? The idea made him shift in his seat.
After she took the last bite, she dropped the spoon in the bowl. “Handsome, that was delicious.”
“I could tell.” He sent her a cocky smile.
“What in the world would ever make you leave the kitchen?”
All the hot and bothered feeling he’d had over the last few minutes instantly turned to a block of ice. “I wanted to focus on fighting.”
Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
She tipped her head. “How’s that going for you?”
“Best decision I ever made.” That wasn’t a lie.
“Don’t you miss being a chef?” she asked.
“I miss cooking for others. Not necessarily the working in a restaurant part.”
There, a nice balanced response. He could do this.
“Well, you can cook for me anytime.”
When she stood and reached for his plate, he said, “I’ll get the dishes.”
“Nope, you cooked. I’ll clean.” She took the dishes to the sink. “Do you want anything to drink while I do this? I have spiced rum in the liquor cabinet just waiting to be opened.”
Alcohol sounded good. “Yeah, I’ll take one of those.”
As she added coke to a shot of rum in a tumbler, he leaned against the end of the counter, and when she offered it to him, he sipped while she started washing the dishes. His gaze traveled over her body, lingering on the swell of her hips. She reached for one of the pans and he noticed a dark bruise on the back of her arm, right above her elbow. “Did that come from today?”
She twisted toward him, a question on her face.
He nodded toward the bruise. “Your elbow?”
She tilted up the arm in question. “Oh. Yep. I think I got that one from the wall I slid down. Got a nice big bruise on my thigh, too. Don’t tell me you don’t have any injuries?”
“A couple of scrapes.”
“It’s that fighter’s body of yours. It’s used to taking a beating, and something as simple as a mud race isn’t going to damage it.”
Eyes on her discolored skin, he pushed off the edge of the counter and moved until he stood directly behind her. He ran his fingers gently over the bruise and the curve of her elbow as he lifted his gaze to look down at her. A shiver quaked her body.
“Don’t forget the one on my thigh,” she whispered, turning into him. As she tilted her head back and looked up at him, the invitation in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Where is it?” He reached down to run his fingers over her knee.
She dragged the hem of her dre
ss high up her thigh. A dark bruise about the size of a fist stood out against the creamy skin. He trailed his fingers over it, loving the feel of her smooth skin. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her to his chest. With mouths inches apart and her hands on his biceps, they gazed at each other. It was the most intimate embrace he’d been in for so long, he took a moment just to enjoy the feel of her soft, curvy body pressed into his.
Then he ran his palms over her hips, cupped her ass, and lifted her those mere inches to capture her lips in a kiss so opposite the one earlier in the day, it could’ve been given by a different man—and in a way, it was. Unlike before, he was no longer struggling. He’d made his choice. And now it was time to claim his reward.
Her arms wound around his neck, her breasts flattening against his chest, and he swept his tongue past her lips into the warmth of her mouth. A groan erupted from deep inside him. She tasted so good—a mixture of the food he’d made, and something more, something uniquely Gayle.
Her flavor was intoxicating, addicting. Hauling her up his body, her gorgeous legs instantly wrapped around his waist, bringing her center to rest on the rigid strain inside his jeans. He took the few steps needed to press her back into the counter. As he ground his cock against her, he moaned into her mouth. Holy fuck, that felt good.
He propped Gayle in the corner of the counter and ripped his mouth away to look at her. Lips swollen, eyelids heavy, breathing rough. All from his actions. God, she took his breath away.
Now he wanted to hear her. Tugging the tube top down, generous breasts bounced free, nipples puckered into tight, perfect tips. He circled one with his tongue and was rewarded with her sharp, uneven gasp. Fingers cleaved through his hair, holding him there. As he sucked one nub deep into his mouth, he worked his hands under the skirt of her dress and found the elastic band of her panties. He tugged them over her legs and let them drop to the floor.
Now it was time to see exactly how uninhibited Gayle was.
He’d never shied away from sex. Seemed four years of celibacy hadn’t changed that. He wanted her open to him, wanted to be confident she had no modesty when it came to bed games. He raised his head, gaze locked with hers, as he lifted one of her legs and planted her foot to one side of her on the counter. When he reached for her other leg, a naughty smile curved her lips—and froze him in place.
