She hopped out of her truck and restrained herself from running inside. Instead she sauntered, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, just as Kelsie had taught her.
Bruiser glanced up, those twinkling eyes sliding down her body and back up like a lover’s caress. Mac shivered and as she started to slide into the opposite side of the booth Bruiser shook his head and patted the spot next to him. Mac hesitated briefly then sat down on his side. He slid closer, their thighs touching, and rested his arm across the back of the booth, rubbing her shoulder with his strong fingers.
“Miss me?” He grinned at full wattage, as if really happy to see her.
“Like an ice storm on a Seattle freeway.”
“Good. I missed you, too.” Insults didn’t deter Bruiser. He glanced around. “No Craig tonight?”
“No, he’s going back over some leads.” Mac refused to give into the guilt.
Bruiser frowned. “Is that all he ever does?”
“Pretty much twenty-four-seven, and I do mean that. He doesn’t sleep much. Finding out what happened to Will is his life.”
“I think that’s sad.” Looking down, Bruiser toyed with his coaster. After a few moments, he looked up. “You know, I’ll do that for you if it’ll help.”
“Do what?”
“Come on to Trudy. See what I can find out. I draw the line at getting naked with her though.” His grin returned. “There’s only one female I’m interested in getting naked with right now, and she’s sitting next to me.”
“You’re toying with me.” Mac so wanted that to be true.
“Oh, yeah, and I’d like to do so much more.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in his trademark, lopsided grin, as he cocked his head at her, while that stubborn lock of blond hair fell across his forehead.
Their gazes caught and held. A tremor rumbled from her toes to the tips of her newly highlighted hair, with the epicenter right between her legs.
Bruiser wound several strands of her hair around his index finger. He brought them up to his nose and inhaled. “Your hair smells damn good.”
“And you look damn good.” Lately the man had this more-than-a-five-o’clock shadow thing going on, and it was sexy as hell. She’d never been much for facial hair, but Bruiser could have hair on his shoulders and back, and she’d still find him bone-jumpingly drool-worthy.
They ordered dinner and huddled together in their little dark corner like two lovers, or at least would-be lovers. Mac sipped cheap wine. She’d never acquired a taste for the expensive stuff. Give her white zin or chilled red any day. Bruiser sucked down a microbrew and soon they were debating the merits of 3-4 defenses versus 4-3, whether or not Zach had enough gas left in his tank for another season, and the odds on Tyler molding the young offense into a cohesive unit.
They talked so much that they didn’t even notice the place had emptied out and the staff watched them with undisguised annoyance. Bruiser dropped a big bill on the table and grabbed Mac’s hand. “So my place or yours?”
“Mine is closer.”
“As long as your dad stays far away.”
“He will. He thinks I’m sick. He’s never been good at playing the role of nursemaid.”
“So you lied to him?”
“Fibbed. For the greater good.”
Bruiser threw back his head and laughed as they crossed the parking lot. “Mac, you’d better watch it. You’re getting more and more like me every day.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“Yeah, one of me is enough. Even I admit that.”
“I don’t think you’re nearly as bad as you pretend to be.”
“Now don’t go giving me a conscience. That’s never been part of the deal.”
“You volunteered to chat up Trudy.”
“Yeah, well, momentary lapse from my selfish reality. Plus, if it helps get me in your pants, then game on.”
“You don’t fool me, Bruce Mackey. Under that pretty-boy exterior is a real person and a genuinely nice guy.”
“You’ll never hear that from me.” Bruiser’s jaw tightened, making that cleft in his chin even more pronounced. He stared straight ahead, his gaze distant and his expression closed. She’d hit a sore spot, but damned if she knew what.
In a matter of seconds, the pretty boy was back in character. “If being a nice guy gets you horizontal, I can manage that.” He grinned at her, but Mac wasn’t fooled. She’d seen something deeper, more than just the surface stuff he showed to the world.
He stopped beside her car, then flattened her against the driver’s side door and gave her a deep, sexy kiss full of promise and expectations before he pulled back. “See you in a few.”
Mac gasped for breath and clutched the door handle. He’d sucked the oxygen right out of her lungs and left her gasping for air and longing for dirty sex.
Well, two could play this game, and she had a small head start.
As soon as she pulled into her driveway, she raced into the house, ran to her room and locked the door, knowing he’d be right behind her.
Mac threw on the revealing, little pink sundress Lavender had given her and adjusted it for maximum cleavage. She slid off her panties and threw them in a hamper. Running a brush through her hair, she fluffed it up, took a deep breath, and entered the living room.
Bruiser stood near her mantle, staring at the pictures. He turned, holding one in his hand and studying it intently. “Your brothers?” he asked without looking up.
“Yes, Will’s on the right and Clint is on the left.”
Bruiser studied the photo for a moment more, then glanced up and opened his mouth to comment but the words came out in an unintelligible stutter that sounded something like, “Holy shit. You look stunning.”
Mac’s face turned fifty shades of red. She stared everywhere but at him. “Thank you. Lavender gave me this dress.” Moving next to him, she took the picture from his hand and put it back on the mantle before he dropped it.
“That dress looks like Lavender.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Girlie and sexy. You do it justice.” His sexy smile hit her in her most vulnerable places.
“You think I’m sexy?”
“Honey, you are smokin’ hot.”
Mac grinned at him, feeling naughty. “I’m not wearing underwear.”
Bruiser swallowed and cleared his throat. “None?” he croaked. His gaze fell to her chest, where her nipples were showing off for him.
“None.”
That crooked smile of his made another appearance. “What if I told you I wasn’t either?”
“You aren’t?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll need to find out for yourself.” He stalked toward her and she slipped away from him just as he reached for her. With a half scream, half laugh, she skirted around the couch away from him.
“Awww, so this is how it’s going to be.” He sprinted for her, careening around the couch like a man used to running and dodging for a living.
Mac faked one way then leapt the other, but Bruiser wasn’t fooled in the least. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm and tossed her onto the couch, shocking her with his brute strength. She shouldn’t have been surprised, not the way he ripped through defensive lines as if they were a peewee football team.
He straddled her and grabbed her hands in one of his big hands, holding them over her head. “Don’t mess with the master, darlin’, you don’t stand a chance.”
“Maybe I don’t want to stand a chance. Maybe I—”
“Too much talking.” He bent down and covered her mouth with his mouth while his stubble scraped across her chin and cheeks. She didn’t care one damn bit. Instead, she wriggled under him, pressing her hips against his, rubbing up and down, needing to know she could make him as crazy as he made her, and judging by his reaction, she did.
Payback was a bitch, and Bruiser’s mouth laid waste to every shred of rational thought as his lips journeyed down her neck. He nibbled on her collarbone wi
th little bites all along the sensitive skin. With his free hand, he yanked down the stretchy bodice of her dress, freeing her breasts.
Mac froze, worried she might be too small for his taste, but his sharp intake of breath and a slow shudder dispelled those doubts. His eyes drank her in like an alcoholic during last call in a bar on Saturday night. “You’re beautiful,” he said with such reverence, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so admired.
He bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, while he plucked the other nipple with his fingers. Mac whimpered as Bruiser sucked, sucked harder, released, sucked again.
Their eyes met and he smiled, not one of his practiced seductive smiles, but a warm, genuine smile that said he was enjoying himself and her. He sucked on her nipples until they were sensitive and sore, a good sore.
Bruiser sat back, released her hands, and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside. It was Mac’s turn to gasp. She’d seen him shirtless before plenty of times, but not up close and personal, not within touching distance. And touch him she did, running her fingers across the ridges of his hard, well-defined abs, up to his firm pecs, and around his broad, muscular shoulders. God, he felt good, like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.
He sucked in a breath as she stroked his muscles, giving her confidence that he needed her touch as much as she needed his. Then he lifted himself off her and shucked his pants in one practiced motion—he was commando—like he’d done this a million times, most likely with countless women.
Mac pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on Bruiser with his incredible body. Bruiser with the laughing blue eyes and devil-may-care attitude. Bruiser, the guy who lived life to its fullest yet carried a painful secret. Despite the women he’d been with in the past, tonight he was hers and hers alone. She may never get this opportunity again, and she’d damn well take advantage of it.
Judging by the campfire blazing in Bruiser’s eyes, he felt the same. “I fucking want you. Bad. I’ve been thinking about this since I picked you up that evening for the barbecue.” He fished a condom out of his pants pocket, ripped it open with his teeth, and sheathed his magnificent cock faster than it took Tyler Harris to throw a ball downfield.
The barbecue? As much as she tried to convince herself that Bruiser was attracted to the real her, the reality stung. He’d never paid one bit of attention to her until she’d worn a slinky dress, revealed some leg and boobs, and all-in-all made him see her as a woman. She wanted to be a woman for him, but she also wanted to be more than someone he took at face value.
Bruiser plunked his fine naked ass on the couch next to her, and Mac threw her self-pity out the window. Tonight was about the physical, nothing else—the pure physical pleasure of two bodies doing what nature designed, and nature had definitely designed Bruiser’s body for sex.
Mac pulled her skirt up to her waist, rewarded by Bruiser’s slow grin. The couch cushion dipped as he turned his body toward her, threw a leg over her thighs, and straddled her again, his usually laughing eyes deadly serious and intense, the sexiest thing in the world to see. His impressive erection rubbed against her stomach. She ran her hands up his forearms and clutched his hard biceps.
He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. The veins stood out on his neck, and his magnificent body shuddered. “I can’t last through much foreplay.”
“Just watching you all night was foreplay.”
“Are you telling me you’re primed and ready for action?”
“Like a well-tuned machine.”
“Honey, you’re no machine. You’re one hundred percent American woman in every sense of the word. Tough. Sensitive. Driven. And passionate.” His eyes rolled back in his head, as she gripped his dick and squeezed, guiding him toward that spot that longed for him with an ache that wouldn’t die. Mac stared at him, large and erect, waiting to enter her most intimate spot and give her the ride of her life.
She wanted him to mount up and gallop into the sunset. At least for tonight.
“Fuck me, Bruce,” she whispered. Judging by his strangled moan, she got her point across. He braced his arms on either side of her and began to push into her slick, tight opening.
He hesitated, a puzzled expression partially replaced his lust. “Are you okay? You’re so damn tight.”
“I thought men liked tight women.”
“Oh, fucking hell, yeah.” Bruiser’s strained smile attested to that fact.
“I’m not exactly the type that sleeps around much. Especially the past three years.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Mac groaned in frustration. “The only way you can hurt me is by treating me like a fragile little princess. I am neither fragile, nor a princess.”
He nodded and managed a strained chuckle as his cock pressed against her folds, and he pushed the tip inside. Bruiser took his time, pushing forward, withdrawing slightly, then pushing deeper with each gentle thrust, as if she were a delicate orchid he didn’t want to damage. He tortured her with his slow methodical thrusts, until she swore she’d go mad if he didn’t just nail her deep and hard.
“Fuck me,” she demanded in a throaty voice that didn’t sound one bit like her but said everything about the way she felt. Mac wrapped greedy legs around his waist and with quick hands she pulled his face down to hers, her mouth hungry and demanding.
Bruiser shuddered, a sure sign his control had finally snapped. With one hard, deep thrust, he buried his penis inside her. He held himself there for what felt like a lifetime that would never be long enough. Then his thrusts came harder, each one so deep he touched her womb and her soul.
Together they established a rhythm. Bruiser drove deep and high inside her, stripping off her protective layers until only her core essence remained. Mac’s hips rose to meet each thrust. His eyes held hers captive, and she became his willing slave. She buried her fingers in his silky gold hair. He traced kisses along her neck, pausing at times to suck hard. He didn’t just mark her once, he was branding her neck, her collarbones, and her breasts—breasts that still tingled from his mouth and lips.
Bruiser’s thrusts came faster, his mouth rougher. His body quivered as he buried himself deep one final time. Sweat beaded his forehead and glistened on his tanned skin. He threw his head back and called out her name as he found his release. Mac went with him and they soared through time and space. They existed together, as if their separate souls had melded into one where nothing was hidden from the other.
Mac wanted to stay in this place, clutching him, listening to his raspy breathing laboring in her ear, feeling his sweaty body sliding against hers while his soul intertwined with hers.
She had brought him to this and she reveled in the knowledge of a dream come true.
But dreams never lasted forever.
Slowly they floated back to earth to land lightly on terra firma, arms around each other, holding on as if their next heartbeat depended on the other.
Maybe it did. At least in this moment.
* * * * *
Fucking hell. What just happened?
Bruiser woke up on Mac’s bed, their legs entwined, her head on his chest, his arms tight around her.
He breathed in the scent of her hair. She smelled like the flowers that bloomed outside Jacks’ HQ every spring, the very flowers Mac so lovingly took care of. She sure as hell had taken care of him. Holy shit on a firecracker, he’d been blown to pieces and put back together, only it felt like some of the old pieces had been discarded, replaced by new ones. He wasn’t altogether comfortable with the result.
What the fuck had he just done to himself? And to her? Could they go back to being friends after being lovers? What about his one-week rule? They’d had one night together, and Bruiser didn’t think it would be enough. He wasn’t even sure a week would do it.
A little voice he usually kept silenced whispered that rules were made to be broken. Yet Mac didn’t fit his plans. She didn’t further his goals, not like a Hollywood starlet or a
rock diva would. Mac would never get him face time with the press. Hell, she’d avoid it. But Bruiser needed that face time. Brice, his bold, daredevil twin, would’ve expected nothing less from his one-time quieter twin. After all, Bruiser was living for both of them now.
Even worse, he’d fallen asleep with her in his arms. Bruiser didn’t cuddle. He got the deed done, once or several times, depending if his dick was up to it, then he got the hell out of there.
He rarely took women home or stayed over at their place —too personal, plus it gave them a foot in the door to demand more than he could give.
He tried to extricate himself, but Mac held on tighter, muttering something in her sleep that sounded like, “No, don’t go.”
Well, crap. He was torn between his normal M.O. and a desire for more. Plus, his dick wanted a vote in this election, and it wanted Mac.
Bruiser rolled onto his back, and Mac cuddled in the crook of his arm. Morning sun peeked through the blinds and cast a golden light across the bed, like sleeping with an angel. He didn’t deserve an angel.
Feeling spooked, he managed to pull away and crawl out from under the sheets without waking her as his brain did a quick recap of last night’s activities. He’d banged her how many times? Good thing he’d grabbed a six-pack of condoms.
Mac hadn’t disappointed him. That passion and fire she put into everything she did she also put into sex—no holding back.
Usually Bruiser chose women who were like him, women who used him for their own agendas. He had no fucking clue what to do with a woman who didn’t fit his usual mold.
Bruiser walked down the short hallway, past the cat sunning himself in a pool of sunlight that ran across the couch. He found his jeans, pulled them on, and continued to the neat and tidy kitchen. He paused and looked around, taking some time to assess Mac’s home.
Backfield in Motion Page 12
