Paws for a Kiss (Canine Cupids Book 1)

by Stephanie Rowe

  "How do you know? Maybe someone will donate a property. Talk to a local real estate agent. You never know what you may find."

  Bev sat up, tilting wine onto the fleece bed. "You don't get it, do you, Mack? I'm not like you. I'm not a winner. I'm one of those people who has to fight for every inch, and as soon as I stop fighting, everything slides away. This is just one more time in my life that you win and I lose. I can't beat people like you."

  His brow furrowed into three horizontal lines. "What are you talking about?"

  She crumpled up the tinfoil from the calzone and threw it at him, her toss falling short. "Like that. You probably would have hit me, but I miss when I try to peg you in the forehead. That's my life. Why do you think I love these animals? Because they're losers, with no homes and no future. So I try to give them good futures, and they love me for it. They're not going to pee on my shoe because I'm fat. They're going to love me because I earn their love."

  "You aren't fat. And I wouldn't pee in your shoe even if you were."

  She paused. "Really?" No, dammit. Just because he promised he wouldn't pee in her shoe, that wasn't enough! Bev waved her hands around her head, as if to ward off an irritating mosquito. "That's completely not the point. See? You can't even understand someone like me."

  Mack was on his knees before she could react, grabbing her flailing hands. "Try me."

  "Let go of me." Ignoring the rush of awareness bursting through her at Mack's nearness, she forced herself to try to twist her hands free. Mack tightened his grip and gently tilted her onto her back, moving over her so she was trapped between his hips and the fleece bed. For a moment, she froze, overwhelmed by the intimacy of their position, by the fact she was physically at Mack's mercy. Would he take advantage of the situation? She shivered, almost hoping. Okay, not almost. She was totally hoping.

  Then she noticed Mack's eyes. They were dark, curious, expecting her to push him off. Embarrassment surged through her as she realized she'd done absolutely nothing to make him get off her.

  Damn. She had to be offended by his actions, didn't she? That sucked. Bev took a deep breath. "Get off me, Mack."

  "In a sec." His eyes were searching her face, looking for her true meaning. She knew in that instant he would get off immediately if she really wanted him to. But from the smoldering look in his eyes, she guessed he could read what was really on her mind.

  "My dog will attack you if you hurt me." From this angle, she could see a faint scar underneath his chin, behind his jawbone. Maybe he wasn't so perfect. Yeah, right. He would never be interested in someone like her, and even if he was, he was a jerk who put money ahead of animals. Two strikes.

  Except that he was still straddling her in an extremely suggestive position, and she could see his pulse in his throat, as if he was feeling his own set of tensions at the moment. Was there a chance he wanted her?

  "You mean the dog who's licking my ankle right now? I'm terrified."

  "Traitor."

  He chuckled. "Me or him?"

  "Both of you. Maybe I shouldn't change his name after all." She shifted, but all it did was settle him more deeply across her hips, pressing against the junction of her legs. He felt so incredible, so right, so tempting. "I think this position could be kind of suggestive. I just wanted to point that out in case you didn't mean it that way." Of course he did. But she couldn't believe it. Why would Mack want to kiss her?

  He grinned. "Really? You think? I was just practicing my wrestling technique."

  "Wrestling?" Her heart fell. How could he be thinking about sports right now? Bev frowned. Was he really not remotely affected by their position? Disappointment welled up, but she lifted her chin. Better to find out now while she still had some semblance of dignity. "Why are you sitting on me?"

  "Because you looked more comfortable than the fleece bed I was on."

  "Oh." She was nothing but a piece of furniture to him. Lovely. Apparently deciding he didn't want to be ignored, her dog crawled between them and settled himself on Bev's chest. "I feel like a couch with both of you sitting on me."

  "Trust me, you don't feel like one to me."

  "What do I feel like?" Hope fluttered through her.

  "Uh...you don't want to know. Let's talk about your shelter."

  "My shelter?" She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  "Yes." His voice was firm, reserved, determined.

  She took a deep breath. "Fine." If his position didn't affect him, she wasn't going to admit it was sending her insides into a flurry of desire.

  Mack shifted slightly, his legs fitting perfectly around her hips. "Don't give up on your shelter. So what if you lost this property? There are other options. I'll help you figure some out, if you want."

  How could she think about her shelter with Mack sitting on her? With his legs wrapped around her hips, his pelvis crushing hers, his hands resting loosely on her hips, so close to her stomach...without clothes, they'd be in the perfect position to... Whoa. Maybe if he came right out and told her that their intimate position wasn't remotely stirring him, then she could concentrate on the shelter. It would be like water on a fire. "Tell me what I feel like so I can start listening to you."

  He raised an eyebrow. "You're stubborn, aren't you?"

  "Sometimes." She moved her hand to the top of her dog's head, freezing when the back of her hand brushed against Mack's chest. Heat burned her skin, consuming her with the urge to flatten her hand against Mack, feel his body beneath her touch...

  Mack put his hand over her hand that was against his chest, pressing it to him. "Fine. I'll tell you what you feel like."

  She stared at her fingertips, barely visible under Mack's much larger hand. Her hand was anchored to him, as if he wanted her there, as if he didn't want to give her the chance to escape...as if she would ever try.

  "You feel like an incredibly soft and tempting woman who molds perfectly to my body." His voice was husky, and his grip on her hand was unyielding.

  "Oh." Her response was nothing more than a faint squeak, her heart thumping so hard she could barely hear her own voice. That was not the answer she'd been expecting, not the answer that would help her forget her attraction to him. "Interesting description."

  "You asked." He still didn't release her hand, and she couldn't seem to drum up enough control over her hand to withdraw it. As if she had any desire whatsoever to do so anyway. He studied her, his eyes probing hers. "Are you offended?"

  "Um...no." Should she be? It was hard to think with the blood pounding so hard in her ears. "Or maybe I am. I don't know."

  Mack chuckled. He dropped his finger to her lips, brushing his fingertips over them. "Has anyone ever told you that your lips are incredibly tempting?"

  "Definitely not. That would be ridiculous." She felt like whimpering as his fingers tickled her lips, wanting to beg him to bend down and kiss her. Never would she dare make the first move with a man like Mack, but if he were to take the initiative...

  Mack lifted one eyebrow. "And I suppose it would be ridiculous if I told you your eyes are the most alluring eyes I've ever seen?"

  "Absolutely." What a story this would make for Josie. "So stop it." Unless you mean it.

  But Mack would never mean it with her. She could never mean anything to him. He'd break her heart if she gave it to him.

  Mack bent closer, and Bev could see each individual whisker on his jaw. "Your eyes remind me of a doe's eyes."

  Her stomach flip-flopping, Bev slapped his chest with her free hand. "Give me a break. That's such a line." Wasn't it? He couldn't possibly mean it, not to her.

  "A line? Do guys say that to you all the time?"

  "They say it in the movies." Oops. That made her sound like a loser. No need for that. "I mean, yes, guys say it to me all the time. Constantly. Lots of guys."

  He rubbed his chin, looking much too thoughtful. His eyes were so dark she couldn't even see his pupils. Why were his eyes so dark? Passion? Mystery? Deception?

 
; "Want to know the real reason I sat on you?"

  She snorted nervously, suddenly realizing that Mack had indeed turned out to be the type who would sit on her. Though it hadn't exactly been how Josie had predicted. "To remind me of how inconsequential I am?"

  "Because I was hoping to get close enough to kiss you."

  Her mouth dropped open and heat surged through her body. No way.

  Chapter 9

  Her skin was ashen, her eyes wide, her hand trembled under his where he still pressed it to his chest. Shock? Horror? Excitement? He had to know. "Bev? You there?"

  "You're a lecher." She pulled her hands away from his and pushed at his shoulders.

  "What? No, I'm not." Apparently, it had been horror, not the reaction he'd been expecting. She'd seemed to meld to his body, her breath shallow with what he thought was eager anticipation when he'd straddled her hips. What had he done wrong? Besides be himself. Maybe that was all he'd needed to do to turn her off.

  "It's just like Les said. You're trying to get a cheap thrill before you destroy me." She began to squirm, trying to dislodge him from his perch across her hips. "Get off me."

  Ah, he understood now. Time to step in. Mack caught her wrists and held her still, leaning toward her. "Bev."

  She stopped struggling and squinted at him, her thick eyelashes shielding her eyes from his view. "What?"

  "Les is wrong. Extremely, unforgivably wrong." When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed his thumb to her lips, lips that were just as soft as he'd imagined. He took a deep breath, trying to control the excitement racing through him. "I want to kiss you because I simply haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you accosted me at my mom's birthday party. Because you looked so cute trying to yank that dress up higher, and you were so nice to my dog. And because your ponytail is perpetually crooked. That's why I want to kiss you."

  Her cheeks flamed to an appealing pink, and her eyes held an aura of desperation as she searched his face. For what? The truth?

  He couldn't stop himself now. The desire to kiss her was too strong, to feel her body against his, to hear his name mingle with her breath. He framed her face with his hands and lowered his head closer. "If you don't want me to kiss you, you'd better say something now."

  "I don't want you to kiss me," she whispered.

  He didn't believe her, not the way her hips were shifting under him, restlessly and impatiently. "Why not?"

  "I mean, I want you to kiss me, but I don't." She caught her lower lip in her teeth and knitted her eyebrows. She poked him in the chest. "You'd break my heart, you know."

  A prick of guilt stabbed at Mack. She was right about him. She expected and deserved complete love from her man, and he couldn't give that to her. Unable to follow his conscience and release her, he picked up one of her hands and played with her fingertips. "I'd only be able to break your heart if you gave it to me, but I'm not worthy so I'd hope you wouldn't."

  She should listen to his warning, but a part of him wished she wouldn't, hoped she'd fall right in love with him instead.

  No, he didn't. He definitely didn't want love anywhere near him. Definitely.

  Bev sighed. "I was hoping you'd deny it, and tell me you were a nice guy."

  "Does it have to matter?" He couldn't hold back any longer. He had to taste her, touch her, feel her against him. Mack leaned closer until his lips were only a breath from hers. "I want you, Bev. I can't help it."

  "Mack." His name was a murmur on her breath, more enchanting than he'd imagined. That one little word swept away the final vestiges of his control.

  He dropped his head, touching his lips to hers. Gently at first, exploring carefully, waiting for her response even as his body felt like it was catapulting through deep space. Her lips were so soft, quiet under his touch, careful and questioning. Her shyness slammed into his gut like a sledgehammer. Bev, innocent, trusting. His Bev. For now. For the moment. Incredible.

  Delighted by her innocence, honored by her trust, Mack kept his kiss gentle, undemanding, yet promised more should she care to meet him. And when her hands slipped around his neck and her lips began to respond, passion reverberated through his body. His lower body burst into awareness, and Bev shifted beneath him, opening her denim-clad legs to wrap herself around him.

  Groaning her name, Mack deepened the kiss, his breath catching when her tongue darted against his, testing, experimenting, exploring, growing more daring with each venture. He coaxed her with his lips, with his tongue, drew her out of her shell and into his. She grew bolder, deepening the kiss on her own, her hands tight around his neck, as if afraid to let him go.

  Mack trailed his right hand down her cheek, his fingers drifting over the long lines of her neck, fingering the collar of her tee shirt, playing with the strap of her overalls. A delicate feminine sigh of eager anticipation echoed against his own breath, daring Mack to challenge her.

  He flicked the straps of her overalls loose, first the right one, then the left one, nuzzling the crook of her neck while her fingers dove through his hair. She twisted under him, pulling him closer with her legs, tilting her head back to give him access to her neck. The freckles at the base of her throat were so sexy, and when he kissed them, he could taste her pureness.

  When she released his head, he tensed, wondering if she was going to stop him. He waited while her hand trailed down the side of his face, her fingertips catching on his stubble. And then her hand dropped to the bib of her overalls, and she slipped her index finger into the little pocket. His gut tightening, Mack stared at her hand, waiting, wondering, hoping. An almost casual flip with her wrist and the bib was turned down, one barrier removed.

  He whispered her name, tantalized by the swell of her breasts under her surprisingly snug tee shirt. Did Bev have a sexual side she hid beneath her baggy overalls? He glanced at her face, startled to see her watching him, a wary look on her face.

  "You're beautiful," he said, gratified by the slow smile of awareness as it spread across her features.

  "Really?"

  He nodded, resting his hand on her breast. Bev jerked beneath him, her eyes widened for an instant. Then her lips curved in satisfaction and she dropped her head back, arching her back, stretching her hands over her head. An invitation, no doubt. He wondered whether it was a conscious move, but he suspected it was instinctive, a natural reaction to the surge of emotions racing through her body.

  He spanned her narrow waist with his hands, flicking the bottom of her shirt with the edges of his thumbs. Bev arched more, stretching her arms above her head, her midriff peeking out.

  Mack slid his hands under her shirt, in awe at the softness of her skin. He skimmed her ribs with his palms, taking the shirt with him. When she moved restlessly beneath him, he scooted down so he could kiss her stomach, trailing his lips over the quivering flesh.

  His fingers reached the edge of her bra, and he caught his thumbs under the elastic, continuing to slide his hands upward. His palms reached the swells of her breasts, the flesh hot under his touch. Her nipples were erect, waiting for him, calling him.

  Bev whimpered, her hips moving beneath him, rising toward him. Mack's body responded, pressing at the junction of her legs as he settled himself between her thighs. With his lips, he followed the path of his hands. Across her ribs, to the bottom edge of her breasts, over the mound of flesh being anchored by his kneading hands, to the peak, where he stopped and tightened his lips around her, teasing with his tongue, each flick causing Bev to jerk underneath him.

  His suit felt so constricting, too much material, too many layers. He wanted to feel Bev's skin against his chest, feel her bare thighs against his, feel her core wrap around him. "I want you," he whispered. "You're so perfect."

  She tensed under him, and Mack immediately lifted his head. "What's wrong?"

  Her eyes were still foggy, her cheeks flushed, but she was looking at him. Her eyebrows were knitted in concern and her eyes began to appear wary as the fog cleared. Regret sliced thro
ugh Mack, and he stilled his hands on her breasts. "Talk to me, Bev."

  "We have to stop." She was breathless, her voice low.

  "Stop?" He pulled back instantly, startled by her request. "Shit. Sorry." What the hell had he done to make her pull back? Mack took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. Releasing her breasts, he pulled her shirt over them, though he could do nothing about his own erection pressing against her. "What did I do?"

  "Nothing." She let go of him and propped herself up on her elbows. "I can't do this."

  He knew she meant it. Crap. What had he done? He rolled off her instantly and collapsed on his back beside her, trying to regain control. He took a deep breath. "Okay."

  For a long moment, she didn't answer. Silence, then… "Okay?" She sounded confused. "Don't you want to keep going?"

  Mack lifted his head at the hurt in her voice. "Do you really need to ask that?"

  Bev's gaze darted to the front of his pants, and she blushed. "I guess not." She took a deep breath and pulled Mac onto her lap. "Listen, Mack, I really thought I could go through with this. I mean, I want to. I'm totally attracted to you, but I know it's just sex to you. You say you want me, but it's just my body you want. I can't be with a man who doesn't care about me, who could never care about me."

  Mack flopped back down and closed his eyes. If only she knew how much he already cared, how he was hating work because it was hurting her. But Bev was right. In the long term, he couldn't give her what she wanted. Love, commitment, a family. "I do care about you, Bev."

  When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Are you still going through with the shelter property?"

  He cringed. "Yes."

  She sighed and rolled away from him, sitting up on the far edge of the fleece bed. "That's what I thought."

  He propped himself up on his elbow. "Bev, this has nothing to do with Whittle."

  When she looked at him, her eyes were full of pain. Of distrust. "How can you say that? It's all the same."

  Mack sat up too, choosing his words carefully, trying to make her understand. "How I feel about you on a personal level has nothing to do with my business decisions. What happened between us tonight can't change what I have to do for my client." Though he wished like hell that it could, that he could just walk away from Whittle. But for Bev, he'd have to walk away from his career and his eighty-five-hour work weeks. He couldn't do that, not even for her.