And he knew it. She could see that in his eyes.
Most men would have been on her, in her before she had a chance to catch her breath. The man she might have met to ease her loneliness for a night wouldn’t care to please her, wouldn’t ease her slowly into bed, making sure that she was with him one hundred percent.
But Mac, her personal dream weaver, drove her mad with his patience. “There’s no hurrying you, is there?”
Filtered light from floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the bed in a warm glow while Mac tugged at her boot laces. “You’re wearing lace underwear and scuffed leather work boots. It’s not a combination I’ve seen before. I like it.” He tugged again and got nowhere with the stubborn lace.
“I double-knot my laces. Sorry.”
“It’s either slow down long enough to do this or rip the crotch out of your shorts.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to vote for tearing her shorts when he found the tightest loop and pulled the lace free. He set to work on the second boot.
“Want some help with this one?” she offered, but he’d already undone the lace. The second boot joined the first on the floor.
“Now,” he said as he stood and towered over the bed. He was so large, so powerful: physically, mentally and emotionally. “Let’s get naked,” he said. He shucked his slacks and tore off his shirt, while she slipped out of her bra, shorts and panties.
When she reached to tug off her socks, he stayed her hand. “Leave those on. Good God, Morgan, you’re sexy as hell and those socks, rolled down just that way at the end of your gorgeous legs, are about to put me over the top.”
She chuckled, glowing at the compliments. Silly what could turn a man on, but who was she to argue? She’d spent seven years lusting for this man in grainy newsprint photos.
And now, here she was, living the dream.
He stood ready, flushed, muscle and sinew taut with need and aimed straight at her.
Hallelujah.
The hair that she’d nuzzled earlier spread across the expanse of his chest, then narrowed as it crossed his flat belly. It bloomed, darker and thicker, at his groin.
His penis rose toward her, and she melted at his obvious control, needing to hold him close.
Hold him in the crux of her body, her arms and legs entwined with his. She wanted to feel his hips bearing down, his chest heavy and hard on hers, the scent of his heated neck, the caress of his silky hair when she nuzzled his ear.
She wanted him in the fullest way a woman could want a man.
Kneeling on the bed, she trailed her nose along his clavicle, drinking in the aroused scent of him. She cupped his sac and let her fingers play his shaft. His hips arched toward her in silent need.
He groaned, then took her to the mattress with him. She sank into the bedding, legs flared, knees bent, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat as he took his position between her thighs.
She kissed him eagerly in welcome.
A sigh, a moan, a kiss with deep tongue strokes and—The sound of the packet opening gave her a wary moment.
This was happening. Now. Here. And he was huge!
She held his arms and pressed herself up so he’d slow and look at her. Momentous expectation filled his gaze. “Please?”
“I like you, Mac. I think you’re a good man.” She believed it. “A dream weaver.”
He hesitated. “Thank you.” The warmth in his gaze deepened as he believed it, too.
Then he slipped his hand to her bottom, held her hips up and slid into her in one smooth motion. She took him in, opening to receive him fully.
“You’re so wet. So hot.” He pulled out, drawing each silken muscle taut. Her channel clasped him as she gasped with the exquisite sensation.
“Oh, Mac! This is…you are…” Words failed as she succumbed to the tension of his slow, easy rhythm.
He brushed hair from her face. His eyes burned with each plunge and retreat as he stretched and filled her. He changed tempo and pumped faster, pressing deeper with each stroke until she crowned and burst into a pulsing release.
She groaned and grabbed him tight, urging him on until he, too, lost control.
A guttural groan rumbled around her with his release. The pulsing that filled her channel was not her own as he tensed and stilled in her arms.
She held him close, anchoring him while he shook against her, his heart slowing with hers.
He surprised her by rolling to his back, carrying her with him. Content to let him hold her, she sprawled across his big body.
“I love your chest, the scent of your skin.” She sounded almost reverent with the afterglow. “This was the best time I’ve ever had.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad.” He weaved his fingers through her hair. “I love your hair. It’s like silk.” His other hand slid to her bottom. “And I love your ass. You wear those hot shorts to distract men.”
She grinned into his chest. “Of course not.” But her shaking shoulders gave away the lie. “Okay, okay, you caught me. I figure if the guy’s checking out my Daisy Dukes then he might not catch on to what I’m doing in time to stop me.” She lifted her head to find his eyes full of mischief. “You’d be surprised how effective that is.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Your butt was a major distraction for me. I couldn’t think when I stepped out the door and saw you bent over so prettily.”
“And then you saw my socks?”
“Ah! Your socks cinched the deal.” He laughed and rubbed his feet against hers, hooking his big toe in the woolly folds at her ankles. He growled, making her giggle, then tapped her bottom for permission to rise. She slid off, feeling generous and affectionate.
His stroke on her cheek spoke of similar feelings. Maybe it was the sex, but she preferred to think it was more than that.
He strode into the master bath and shut the door, leaving her to gather her thoughts. If nothing else, maybe they could part as friends.
It was a nice thought. Appealing under the circumstances. In spite of her decision to seek quality adult time, she probably wouldn’t have gone through with the plan. A guy she chose for a one-night stand would have to be outstanding. Irresistible.
Like Mac. He’d charmed her so thoroughly and completely, she’d let down her guard. Perhaps she shouldn’t have given in to her dreams and fantasies this last hour, but she couldn’t be sorry.
She closed her eyes, determined to hold on to the dream of Kingston McRae for as long as she could.
If he walked out of the bathroom and looked cold or dismissive, she’d dress and leave before he said anything to wound her. That way, she could walk away with sweet memories and sweeter dreams.
From the sounds in the bathroom, she wouldn’t have time to dress, so she did the next best thing and wrapped herself in the sheet. She stood by the window.
Life with her mother had taught her that a woman should depend on herself. Morgan never expected or wanted a man to rescue her. Her happiness and security was up to her. Johnny DeLongo had taught her that lesson so well she’d never forgotten it. Would never forget it.
She could still see Elizabeth telling the judge that Morgan should go to Juvenile Hall, that it would do her good. Elizabeth had wanted the time to find husband number four. Or was that five?
Thank God the judge had come up with a different solution. Morgan had been sent to a halfway house famous for turning kids with potential around. The counselors had offered her a chance to prove her talents, to see she was a capable person in her own right. She had no idea where she’d be if she hadn’t been given that break.
Clouds had rolled in while they’d been making love. The light had softened to muted gray. Seattle in June.
The window overlooked the back of the estate. In the distance, against the stone wall that enclosed the grounds, stood a garden shed. In the middle of the grounds was a huge maple tree that had to have been old when Mac was a boy. In the summer the shade under the tree would be deep and cool.
She studied the imag
es to keep for future dreams. Her fantasy life would be enriched by the details she could pull up.
Directly below the window a hot tub sat beside a kidney-shaped pool. The flagstone patio showed its age. Some of the stones had shifted.
The back garden brought Mac into a new light, a realistic one. He was a guy whose house needed upkeep. He’d already renovated the kitchen for Rory’s sake, but this mansion was wasted on a pair of bachelors.
The Kingston McRae she’d fantasized about didn’t exist. That man had been manufactured by the tabloids and embellished to near-royal status by her lonely, overactive imagination.
If she wasn’t careful, a full-out infatuation would take her down.
Mac came to stand behind her, his hands on her upper arms and his chin by her ear. He’d been so gentle with her, leashing his power.
“Sorry, did I catch you unawares?” He spoke into her ear, then added a kiss and a nibble on her neck. She tilted to give him access.
“I was wondering what the hell I’m doing here. Aside from the obvious, of course.”
He gathered her close. One sly hand slipped under the sheet and cupped her mound. “The obvious is enough for now, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said as moisture gathered where he rubbed her with delicate ease. “Oh, that feels good.”
“So wet. So warm.” He pulled her backside close to align with his rising cock.
“Again?” she whispered.
He kissed her neck, then moved down to her shoulder, nipping her. “Sorry to be so obvious. And I’m especially sorry that I’m rushing you, but—”
He rubbed her clitoris, using her own wetness to ease the friction. She arched her back toward him and opened her legs for more. “I can’t get enough of you, Morgan. You surprise and delight me.”
She whirled, dropping the sheet. Naked, she pressed her hands to his shoulders. This time, she had to keep it real. “I’m twenty-six, Mac, long past the need for declarations. This is what it is. A couple of stolen hours.”
Hours that would live forever in her dreams.
She pushed harder and walked him backward two steps. Three.
He grinned as her intent became clear. When the back of his legs hit the bed, she shoved hard enough to tumble them both.
She straddled him. “I want to make the most of our time, then I’ll leave.” To prove her point, she raised her hips, took his hand and slid it to her honeyed center. “See? I’m more than ready.”
He found her clitoris, ripe and firm as a new plum. He slid a finger deep inside her but it wasn’t enough. “Clever man,” she said when she saw a fresh condom packet on the bed. She tore it open and settled at his side to roll it down his shaft.
He raised her face with a finger and his expression softened. “I was right about you.”
“How?”
“There’s not a coy bone in your body. You know what you want and you get it.”
“Always.” She warmed at the admiration in his voice. “And what I want right now is you.” The first time with Mac might have been a dream, but this was as real as sex could get. They were healthy, normal available people, free to spend time with each other if they chose.
That it would be the only time didn’t diminish her enjoyment in the least. She slid her fingers along his jaw, memorizing the feel of his stubble, his strength, the warmth of his skin.
Suddenly a man’s voice sounded in the hall outside the bedroom door. Rory.
“No, I can’t say where he’s got to.”
Mac covered her hand to still her exploration. “Damn it. He’ll knock any second.”
She closed her eyes with a sigh. Just as well, Mac had gotten to her. Better to cut it off quick.
“Morgan, we’ll finish this. We will.” He cursed. “Just give me half an hour.” He rose and bussed her firmly on the lips.
The expected knock came and she nodded at him. “Sure. But, um, could I ask for one favor?”
He slipped into his slacks. “Of course.” He clasped her chin in his hands and kissed her deeply.
“Could you let me know how this all pans out? If you catch your stalker?”
“You mean when.”
“It’s okay if it’s just a message. Jack could leave it with BB for me.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You’re taking off as soon as I walk out.”
“I don’t wait well. Too impulsive, I guess.” He didn’t need to know that her mother had begged for the attention of the men in her life. Morgan refused to live that way.
He straightened and ignored Rory’s second knock. “You’d go back on your word that we’d have two full hours?”
That was exactly what she’d planned. But when his frown deepened she couldn’t disappoint him or herself. “There’s forty-five minutes left, then I’m gone.”
The side of his mouth kicked up and he kissed her again. This time, he fondled her breast and groaned. “Don’t leave, Morgan. Please.”
“I won’t.”
He studied her face for a long moment before he released her. “I believe you. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t.”
“Go, before Jack and Rory barge in. They may think you’re kinky when they see I still have my socks on.”
“I wouldn’t leave you on any other day, you know that, right?”
“If any other man said that, I wouldn’t believe him. Now, go find out what Jack’s learned. Maybe the whole repo thing has been cleared up and you can keep the car.” She didn’t want to ruin the wedding, but he could use a limo. Surely he had a couple.
“Every kiss makes me want more,” he said, and looked startled at his own statement.
When he walked out, her fingers stayed on her quivering lips, holding in the taste of him, the feel of his determined kiss. Did he really feel the same way she did?
That couldn’t be right. She was the one with the infatuation. Not him. Not Mac McRae.
When the door to the suite opened, she heard Jack’s voice. “We’ve got something, Mac. This is probably a woman…someone you’ve dated.”
An ex! Of course. Lots of exes got possessive and weird. The news was full of the violence of scorned lovers. She shouldn’t stick her nose into their discussions. This wasn’t her business.
This time, she had to stay on the sidelines.
She squelched an impulsive urge to charge out into the hall to help.
Oh! To hell with it. She had to know, had to offer her help if Mac needed it.
She slammed back into her clothes, making sure her T-shirt was on right side out, and marched toward the door.
6
RORY AND JACK WERE in the hall when Mac stepped out.
“Check that the garden shed’s secure,” Jack told Rory.
“You should have let me cover that door years ago.” Rory looked to Mac.
“It still comes in handy on occasion,” Mac said. Both his parents had used the secret entrance. Her mother, for liquor deliveries, his father as an escape route to rendezvous with women he wouldn’t be seen with in public.
Rory’s expression was bland as he headed down the hall, while Jack’s was condemning. “This Morgan could be setting you up for anything.” Jack rounded on Mac. “A paternity suit or assault charges. You don’t know the first thing about her, and—”
“I know enough.” He was usually more cautious, but he was sick of caution. Beyond the physical, Morgan touched him in ways he couldn’t describe.
Jack scoffed. Mac didn’t wait for his next comment but led the way into his office and took his position by the window, his mind still on Morgan. The reflection showed Jack’s concerned expression and prematurely gray head. The whole team ragged the security chief about his early silver, Mac included. Idly Mac wondered if the gray affected his success with women, but he doubted it. Jack never complained.
“We’ve narrowed the list of personal suspects to Maria Sandoval, Gretchen Eriksen and Lila Markham.”
“And the business-related suspects?”
“Much longer.
People hate you for your success, Mac. You cost a lot of people their jobs over the years and this recession—”
“None of the businesses I turned around have ever asked for bailouts. And bonuses are the first thing to go when I take over.”
“Which plays well with the public, but those disappearing bonuses are important to some people.”
Mac nodded but remained unconvinced. This had the feel of a prank more than a serious threat.
“What about the women, Mac?”
“I dated them,” he said with a nod. “So what? They were mostly set up by our PR people. For convenience. For their careers, not mine.” He hoped Morgan hadn’t misconstrued his rush out of the bedroom.
“Mac?” Jack’s stern voice pulled him back. “Get your head in the game. No cause for a broken heart for any of them?”
“I don’t think so.” He pulled up what he remembered of Maria Sandoval. “Maria is an actress, ambitious to a fault.” She was eager to start her own line of gym wear. “You remember she asked me to appear in an infomercial wearing her workout clothes.”
Jack snorted. “Not likely. I can’t see you in fuchsia tights.”
“Exactly. When I learned she’d used my name to get financial backing, I said goodbye.” Being used was par for the course, but Maria had been underhanded. If she’d asked him, he might have provided her with the money she wanted, but by going behind his back, she’d lost his trust.
“Didn’t her manager get an ex-rapper involved?”
“Strictly C-list. He’d discovered bodybuilding after his music career tanked and thought the infomercial would reignite interest.”
Morgan showed up in the window’s reflection, framed by the doorway. “I remember him,” she said clearly. “He was sent to prison for three months and came out buff. I think he discovered steroids behind bars.”
Mac faced her with a private smile, happy she hadn’t cut and run. “Morgan, glad you could join us.”
Jack, decidedly, was not. He faced her, too, his back stiff and shoulders squared. Jack could freeze a Caribbean island with his stare and Morgan’s reaction proved it.
Her eyes widened, then unbelievably she faltered and hung back by the door, indecision carved into her beautiful face.
Possessing Morgan Page 7
