by Debra Webb
He frowned, his gaze searching hers. “Oliver’s fine. He eats, he pees, he poops. What do you mean you don’t see the point?”
She shrugged and gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “I mean, why bother? It’s like no one cares. Why should I?” Free turned away from him then, afraid he might somehow see the lie in her eyes. She crossed the room, putting some distance between them, then faced him again. She blinked, startled, when he moved in her direction. “Why should I work so hard to save little pieces of history from this house or any other that no one seems to care about anymore? Why not just tear it all down and leave it in one sad heap?”
Surprise flickered across his handsome face for a moment before irritation replaced it. He pivoted, a flash of navy Armani, and strode toward the double doors leading to the entry hall. Unsure of what he intended to do, she followed.
He surveyed the hall, then jammed his hands at his waist and pinned her with a steely look. “What about this handrail?” He glanced at the staircase and then to Free, his gaze ultimately going back to the stairs. “It’s a veritable work of art. Exquisite detail,” he added distractedly. “And those doors.” His gaze shifted and he moved back toward the parlor, admiring the sliding pocket double doors of rich mahogany. The beauty of the wood still shone through despite the years of neglect.
Free silently trailed him. Her heart bumped against her ribcage with a fierceness that was matched only by the smile that threatened her lips. She couldn’t believe her ears. Mac was actually looking at the house as if its irreplaceable interior had real value.
“This mantel is gorgeous,” he said, more to himself than to her. His hands traced the intricately carved wood while his gaze roamed the room. “The detail of the molding is some of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Mac started forward again and caught himself just before he tripped over the picnic basket. “What’s this?” he asked, that intense blue gaze settling on her.
She shifted under his scrutiny. “I had planned to bring lunch to you at the office when your secretary called.” She shrugged and waved a hand toward the basket. “I thought we could have lunch here and…” Her explanation drifted into silence. She flushed with the humiliation rising inside her. He no doubt thought she was foolish.
Why had she done something so stupid? He was already upset with her over the puppy and missing a day’s work. Tomorrow she intended to set him up so Alex’s plan could be put in motion. Free silently called herself what she was: a liar, a betrayer. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled a shuddering breath into her lungs. How had she allowed things to go this far?
Before she even knew he’d moved, his hand closed around her arm, then slid down to envelop her trembling fingers. Free opened her eyes to find Mac staring down at her, concern in his eyes.
“I got a little carried away,” he murmured. One side of his mouth quirked upward in a half smile. He blinked and looked down at their joined hands. Free watched the play of muscle as he swallowed hard. “I asked you to meet me here to find out why you haven’t completed your work at this site.” His gaze lifted to hers. All the fierceness was gone now, leaving the intense blue staring back at her. “I shouldn’t have gone off like that,” he offered by way of apology. Uncertainty warred with the need she saw in his eyes.
Free smiled, but her lips trembled and tears threatened to snap her tenuous grasp on composure. “I’m sorry I whacked you with the door,” she said, her voice nothing but a whisper. “You know I didn’t mean to.” Needing to touch him, she reached up and caressed his jaw, her thumb sliding over full lips and a perfect nose. Regret overwhelmed her then. “I shouldn’t have badgered you into taking Oliver home. I shouldn’t have pushed you into spending the day with me. I shouldn’t have gotten you thrown into jail, and—”
He cut off her next words, taking her lips with his own. “Free,” he murmured her name, the sound lost in the kiss.
She tried, God help her, she tried, but she just couldn’t push him away. She wanted him too much. The feel of his hard body against hers as he edged closer. The strength of his arms around her waist, pulling her nearer. And the taste of him as he devoured her mouth.
Free slid her arms around his neck and gave in to the desire, to the need. She didn’t care what happened tomorrow or the day after that. She only cared that Mac wanted her and she wanted him. There would plenty of time for regrets later.
His erection pressed against her, sending a thrill of anticipation through Free. Heat pooled at the juncture of her thighs, readying her body for his possession.
Then they were moving. Mac stumbled slightly as he made his way to the wall without breaking the kiss. Free clung to him. They groaned simultaneously when her back hit the old plaster, allowing their bodies to mesh fully together. She caressed his thigh with her own, up and down.
The long fingers of one hand closed around her breast. Free gasped, drawing in his warm breath. His thumb flicked her nipple, teasing the tight bud beneath the thin, soft cotton. Free plunged her hands into his hair, reveling in the silky length. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth and matched his frenzy, searching, teasing. The tip of his tongue swept over her lips and then dipped inside once more. Free sucked him deeper, wrenching a low, primal groan from Mac. He ground his hips into hers, pressing her into the wall. Free matched his groan with a primitive sound of her own.
“I want you,” he growled against her lips, his gaze locking on hers. His breath raged in and out with the growing force of his need. Free’s own breathing was as ragged as his. His body felt so hot and hard against hers, it seemed to burn her through the layers of clothing.
“I want you, Mac,” she whispered in response.
Mac paused as if contemplating the next move, then suddenly he jerked off his coat and tossed it onto the floor. His tie followed. Free forgot her inhibitions and began to unbutton his crisp, white shirt. His hands moved to the thin straps of her sundress. He pushed them down slowly, his eyes riveted to her breasts as the fabric lowered.
His mouth followed his gaze and latched onto one breast. Free arched into him and buried her fingers in his hair. He suckled one breast until she writhed against the wall, then he moved to the other. She almost screamed her pleasure when he pulled her hips hard into the thickness straining against his slacks.
Reaching past her, Mac lowered his zipper. Slowly he dragged the dress down until it pooled around her bare feet. His lips followed the material’s decent. His hands clasped tightly around her waist and his tongue blazed a trial to her naval. Tension coiled tighter and tighter in Free’s center as liquid heat sped through her veins. She felt ready to explode, but need continued to build inside her. She’d never experienced such madness.
“Mac,” she pleaded. “Please.” Se begged him to do what she couldn’t name. Free could only pray that he knew how to assuage this desperate ache building inside her.
He straightened. His mouth covered hers in a kiss so desperate, tears sprang to her eyes. Free fisted her hands in his shirt and ripped it open, watching the remaining buttons fall to the floor. She had to touch him, to feel the very strength and sinew of him. Free pushed the shirt off his shoulders. He moaned low in her throat at the feel of his muscled shirt. Her palms glided over taut, hot skin.
Mac stilled, save for his ragged breathing. He looked away and swore. Free flinched. Her body throbbed with need, her heart pounded in anticipation. He couldn’t stop now. Not for anything. “What’s wrong?” she gasped.
Mac plowed a shaky hand through his hair, his gaze moving to hers. “I still don’t have any protection.” He uttered the words like a self-imposed death sentence, his eyes closing with regret. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered with a shake of his head. He opened his eyes to her and explained, “I haven’t had unprotected sex since I was a teenager.” A burst of frustration blew past his lips. “You have me completely out of control.”
Free gulped on a breath. “Me either.” She managed a smile. “I mean I haven’t had unprotected sex
since I was a teenager either,” she clarified.
Mac pressed his forehead to hers. “If we’re both so careful, how did we wind up in this predicament?” he lamented.
“I…I guess I’m out of practice,” Free offered. Her hands continued to caress his beautifully sculpted chest. “It’s been a long time,” she added self-consciously and averted her gaze.
His hand tightened on her waist. While the other threaded through her hair. Mac tilted her head back, forcing her to look at him. His lips quirked into a smile. “How long?” he teased.
“A very long time,” she admitted reluctantly.
He pressed her with his gaze, eyes twinkling with mischief that barely concealed the raw lust beneath. “Be specific,” he prodded. “How long?”
Free ducked her head and mumbled, “Seven years.”
“Seven years?” he said incredulously.
She nodded without looking up.
“Seven years? But why?” he demanded, his disbelief a palpable force.
Free shrugged, still unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know. It was just that one time, and after that I—”
“One time?” he echoed, tipping her chin up so he could see her eyes.
Free blinked and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. “It wasn’t that great,” she admitted as if that explained it all.
His gaze held hers, all that twinkling mischief and intense lust melting into something else. Something Free couldn’t identify, but it looked a lot like tenderness. Her heart squeezed. Mac kissed her gently then bent to pick up her dress, drawing it back up around her waist.
Suddenly, Free knew what she wanted to do. What she wanted more than anything in this world. She pressed her hands against his forearms, halting his movements. “Make love to me, Mac.”
He stopped trying to dress her. The fabric slipped from his fingers and the dress puddled around her feet once more. Mac stood absolutely still, his questioning gaze searching hers. Free wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. “Kiss me,” she demanded softly.
He obeyed.
Still kissing her, Mac lifted her against him and carried her to the quilt. He eased her down onto the age-softened material and aligned his body with hers.
Slowly, he kissed his way down to her panties. Free shivered as he dragged the bright scrap of yellow satin down her legs. He paused to deposit a lingering kiss on her rose tattoo. He fingered the silver chain around her ankle, then smiled at her, stealing her already sparse breath.
He stood, kicked off his loafers and, in one smooth motion, shed his slacks and boxers. She felt lightheaded and giddy when her eyes roamed the length of him. He was beautiful. Wide shoulders, sculpted chest, lean waist and narrow hips, muscular thighs. Free’s heart fluttered wildly in her chest at just how generously endowed he was.
Her eyes widened. He was…he was…looking at her, she realized nervously. She tried to conceal herself. It was all she could do not to scramble away when he knelt beside her. His gaze moved over her with masculine appreciation apparent on his face. He leaned toward her. His gentle smile and that slight tremor in his hands reminded her that she didn’t have to be shy with him.
“Free.” He whispered her name against the shell of her ear, sending a thrill right through her. “I want this to be special for you. Tell me how you want me to touch you.”
She moistened her lips and flattened her palms against his shoulders, just in case. “The normal ways will be fine,” she murmured, keeping her gaze locked on his awesome pecs. She drew in a breath that expanded her lungs and brushed her nipples against his bare skin. Mac’s soft chuckle at her words ended on a shudder when her taut peaks grazed his chest.
“How about like this,” he suggested as he nibbled her neck.
“That’s”—Free’s breath caught—“fine,” she managed.
When his hungry mouth moved to her breast, she almost howled with delight. “Mac, oh, God, that’s—”
“Better than fine?” he offered, his mouth tender against her sensitive flesh. She could only nod. He moved lower, nibbling, suckling, kissing.
“Oo-oh!” she murmured when his mouth reached her pelvis.
Mac groaned with need as he pushed her knees up and bared the most private part of her completely to him. The first thrust of his tongue sent her senses into overload. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe. She could only pray that he wouldn’t stop loving her that way. With his mouth, he aroused her almost unbearably, finding and paying special attention to a certain spot. Waves of pure pleasure crashed over her. When her tremors began to ease, she was vaguely aware of him moving over her, but she couldn’t open her eyes. Her senses couldn’t take that kind of stimulation. She could feel him touching her, kissing her body, murmuring sweet sounds. She tried to speak but couldn’t, so she simply smiled in the aftermath of her very first climax. He opened her thighs and she responded instantly, instinctively. Opening, stretching, molding to him as he filled her in one long, slow thrust. She gripped his shoulders and screamed her pleasure and the delicious madness started all over again.
A primal sound rumbled from Mac’s throat as he moved inside her. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Free forced her eyes open to watch what was happening between them. Mac’s eyes were closed, his handsome face intent. His muscles were rigid, straining for release. His hips flexed powerfully, filling her completely with each thrust, pushing her toward the peak she now recognized and longed for with every fiber of her being.
Free arched up, matching his rhythm. That frantic pleasure burst inside her, an explosion of sensations that carried her over that ultimate pinnacle. Mac followed her there. Their bodies melted together, hearts pounding. He threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair and kissed her gently, thoroughly.
Save for their ragged breathing, silence enveloped them. Long, golden beams of sunlight moved across the floor, caressing their bodies with warmth. Their eyes met and something shifted near Free’s heart. In that ethereal moment she felt closer to Mac than she had ever felt to another human being. Connected…beyond the physical. And when he smiled, he touched something deep inside her. Tears sprang unbidden and her chest tightened unbearably.
Mac brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek and pressed a tender kiss there. When he looked deeply into her eyes, Free saw more than the ebbing passion and sated need. She saw a kind of sadness that tugged at her heart.
He managed a strained version of his previous smile and murmured, “How am I ever going to break your spell, gypsy lady?”
Chapter Eight
“You’re sure this is the only way?” Free asked again as she surveyed the modern lobby of McFerrin Enterprises’ Huntsville offices. Glass and steel formed the outer walls of the immense structure. The veined marble floor inside echoed every footfall. Large green plants and designer trees dominated the decorating scheme.
“It’s the only way,” Alex reiterated. She arched one dark eyebrow in question. “You’re not chickening out on us, are you?”
Free smiled and surveyed the small group which had gathered. Mr. Towery, three other residents from Chenille Street, and her assistant Lance peered at the architectural models gracing elegant display tables as if they had never seen anything as interesting as McFerrin designs.
“No,” Free admitted. “I just feel”—she glared down at the getup she was wearing—“ridiculous in this outfit.” Not to mention, she was sore in certain private places. She’d only been with one other guy and, like her, he’d been just a kid at the time. Free glanced at Alex. Maybe later she could talk to Alex. See if all these intense feelings were par for the course.
“You look great,” Alex gave Free a careful once-over. “You should dress like this more often.”
Then again, Free decided, maybe not. Knowing Alex’s take on the independent female, her friend would think Free old-fashioned for feeling anything but sexually satisfied. “Yeah, right. It would do wonders for my reputation as a businesswoman.” F
ree sucked in a breath and tried to hold it. The dress was too tight. Alex had a more slender figure. Free filled out the spandex in ways that had never been intended by the designer.
Alex glanced at her watch. “Ten-fifteen. Time to go.” She nodded to Mr. Towery and headed for the bank of elevators.
Free followed, balancing precariously atop the cherry-red stiletto heels. Her heart hammered frantically. I can do this, she repeated silently.
Why did the first and only man she had ever truly wanted have to be all wrong for her? Their lives were worlds apart. Mac didn’t want to share his life with anyone; and if he ever changed his mind, he certainly wouldn’t want to spend it with her. Free’s soul ached with the loss of something she’d never even had.
She forced her eyes to open and heaved a bone-weary sigh. How could she think for one second that a man like Mac would be interested in a woman like her, for more than what they’d shared on the floor of that old house anyway? He was sophisticated and intelligent, and she was just a plain old country girl.
She had given him the only thing she had to give, and he’d hurried away at the first chirp of his cell phone with a promise to call her later.
He hadn’t called.
Free stared down at her shiny red shoes as the elevator bumped to a stop. Oh, his secretary had called to ask if Free would check on Oliver since Mac would be working late, but nothing else. Later, around midnight, he had come home. Free had watched from the darkness of her bedroom window as he trudged up the steps and into his house. She had longed to run out the door and throw herself into his arms.
But she hadn’t.
Dressed in their Sunday best, the little group shuffled off the elevator. Free reluctantly followed. Mac would be going back to Atlanta soon. Alex had told her that, according to Jake, Mac had only come to Huntsville for a few weeks. Free should never have allowed herself to fall for him like this. She was only going to wind up with a broken heart.
