by Bec McMaster
"I can still taste you, did you know?"
"Mia." A warning growl.
"What changed?" she asked.
He started unbuttoning his shirt, then clearly thought better of it. "What do you mean?"
"You made me a lot of dirty promises when you were drinking in my bar."
"I was drunk, Mia." McClain tossed his belt aside. The single bars of light through the shutters highlighted the erection straining his jeans. "I said a lot of things I didn't mean."
She rolled onto her hip. "I call bullshit." Draping a hand down over her breasts, she caressed herself through her tank. And he watched every movement. "Every word you've uttered since you walked through that door is a lie.
"Something changed," she said, reading his reaction. "You wanted it then. And you want it now. Every time you touch me, or look at me like that, I can see how much you want it. But then you get this constipated look on your face, like you're trying to tell yourself you don't." Mia slid her hand up under her tank, tracing circles across her hip. "Something happened that night that Jake wanted a quiet word with you. What did he say?"
Those hungry eyes narrowed. "The truth. That you and I have no future together. I like you a lot, Mia. I genuinely like you. And I don't want to break your heart when I leave. Please stop doing that. I'm just a man, one trying to do the right thing. And you're destroying me right now."
Mia's hand stilled. Guilt descended. Guilt and frustration, and a bittersweet loneliness that ached in her chest. She'd wanted more but instead she was pushing him, shredding his willpower. And that wasn't fair.
Even if her body—her heart and soul—ached with denial.
Something haunted him.
Slowly Mia sat up, trying to cool the furious ache beneath her skin. She'd come here to get laid. That wasn't going to happen, and it physically hurt. Or maybe she was so fucking tired that she couldn't tell if it was her body or her heart that burned. The fan buzzed. "All I want is for you to stop pretending. To stop lying to me. I know barely anything about you, McClain. Every time I look around you're there for me, but you won't let me near. And. It. Is. Killing. Me."
Exhaustion painted dark rings beneath his eyes. "I know."
She wanted to growl with frustration. One step forward. Two steps back. "That's it? 'I know.' That's all you're going to give me?"
"It's easier this way," he said.
"Easier for who?"
"Easier for you."
"That would presume that you were finding any part of this difficult." She couldn't keep the bite out of her voice.
"Mia." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying not to hurt you. Really trying. If I didn't give a damn about you, we'd have been in bed weeks ago. But there are things about me that you don't know. I'm not a good man."
At least he was honest about keeping something from her. "I hate secrets."
"I know."
"Fine," she said in a low growl as she collapsed back on the bed. "Let's pretend that kiss never happened." Even as she said it, she could feel the ghost of its caress on her sensitive lips. "No kissing. No touching. No sex. You can sit down. It's not like I'm going to push where I'm not welcome."
McClain hesitantly sat on the end of the bed. "If I could be the man you needed, Mia, then I wouldn't be saying no. But... it's complicated. If you knew my secret then you wouldn't look at me the same way. And I don't think I could bear that. Not from you."
Mia stared at the ceiling. "You don't know that. Maybe you're underestimating me?"
"I do know that."
Fine. "I just can't imagine you doing something bad. It's not your style." She laughed bitterly. "Hell, if you were really the kind of man you paint yourself as, you wouldn't be warning me off. You'd have taken what you wanted and kept your mouth shut."
Silence fell. McClain rolled slowly onto his back at her side. Inches separated them. It might as well have been miles. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Like what?"
"Sage is adopted," he murmured.
Mia glared at him. Oh no. She wasn't going to go spilling everything about her life when he barely gave her anything. "What gave it away?"
McClain flinched.
And suddenly she felt like a bitch. A tired, frustrated, grumpy bitch. She dragged the heels of her palms to her eyes. "Sorry. I need sleep. Badly."
"We both do."
Mia sighed and reached for his hand. She couldn't lose him. "Still friends?"
McClain eyed her, his head twisted to the side. "Friends?"
They'd never been that. She didn't quite know how to classify their relationship. "If you want."
"I would like that," he whispered.
Mia rolled onto her hip, tucking the pillow under her head and still holding his hand. "We were both adopted. Susan and Greg Gray couldn't have kids of their own, so they raised children for those who couldn't. They were almost sixty when we came along, so I kind of have other brothers and sisters, technically, but Sage and I were raised together. The others had their own lives by that point, and we don't see them much anymore. They moved on.
"I don't know who my mother was, but she left me on their doorstep when I was a baby. I used to get upset over that but as Susan pointed out, this is not the sort of world that makes it easy for young girls who fall pregnant. Whoever my mother was, she knew that Susan and Greg were renowned for raising other people's kids, so she must have loved me. Enough to find me wonderful parents."
"Do you miss her?"
"I miss them all," Mia corrected. "Sometimes I regret the fact that I never got to know her, or what her story was. And I miss Mom and Dad terribly. They were great people. Wonderful parents. And they gave me Sage too, which is the biggest blessing in my life. I don't know what I'd do without her."
"Kid sisters," he said dryly. McClain lay flat on his back on the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Can't live with them sometimes, can't live without them."
"Yeah." She looked at him. "Sometimes people don't get it. What family means to me."
"I know. The rest is just a technicality." His voice trailed off and he stared at the ceiling, going someplace distant.
She recognized that distance. It had been in his eyes when he spent all of that time in her bar, staring into his glass of whiskey as if it held the secrets of the world within it. McClain had demons. She'd known that the moment she met him.
"That sounded like it had hidden meaning to it," she said softly, sounding him out.
McClain's head rolled toward her. He'd shaved that afternoon, but she kind of missed the scruff of dark beard that had taken over his jawline in the last day or so. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him looking anything other than clean-shaven. It put a dint in the myth of him. Made him seem more human to her. More touchable. He was so in control of himself that sometimes it seemed like she'd never breach that gap between them. Maybe shaving was just another means to take ownership of his life?
"There was a little girl that I was raising," he finally admitted. Exhaustion created dark hollows beneath his eyes. "I was always 'Uncle Adam' to her, but it felt like she was mine. I would have moved mountains for that kid."
"What happened?"
Please not something bad.... But maybe that was the secret he carried, the one that weighed heavily on his shoulders, and wouldn't let him reach out to her.
"Her name was Lily," he said, voice soft and confessional in the darkened room. "And she belonged to a friend of mine, Luc Wade. He couldn't raise her for a long time, so I stepped in. At first it was a duty: I owed him that. But Lily... she was the most loving little kid. She used to have these nightmares, and she'd come up to my room as though she wanted to sit out front of my door. As though that made her feel safe. So I'd call her in and... I remember the first night she fell asleep in my arms. The way she curled herself in against my neck, as though nothing bad could ever touch her again when I was there. That was when I knew she was mine." His voice trailed off. "Or she was. Wade came back, an
d you know, of all the losses I've had in my life that one was the worst."
"So he just rides back in and picks up where he left off?"
McClain tilted his head toward her. "It's not like that."
The moment stretched out and it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything more.
Right. Half a confession then. Mia sighed and rolled flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. Every time she thought she was getting somewhere with him, he backed away.
And she didn't know why that bothered her so much. This wasn't going anywhere. She knew that. She'd been telling herself those words ever since he strolled in through the doors of her bar, his boots caked with dust and his black cowboy hat hiding his eyes. That moment had nearly knocked her off her feet, and she realized that she still hadn't fully recovered from it.
A single moment and she knew that Adam McClain was going to leave scars on her life that she might never recover from.
The question was: would it be worth it? A touch of paradise, maybe just one night in his arms, branding that memory on her skin for all the long years ahead.
Would it be enough for her?
Every bone in her body felt like lead. Mia closed her eyes. She couldn't answer that. Everything in her past told her not to take that risk. All she knew was loss. The woman who'd given birth to her; the parents who'd lovingly raised her as their own; the boy who'd broken her heart.
But she also knew what years of guarding herself felt like.
No one to sit beside at night and whisper all of her daily musings in his ear. No warm arms around her in bed. She was tough enough to survive by herself. She had Sage, after all, and a job that kept her busy.
But was it enough for her to merely survive? Longing filled her chest, an aching chasm that threatened to swallow her whole. Just once, just once, just once, that longing whispered. Just once to pretend, and then she could cherish that memory for the rest of her life.
If he would let her in....
"There are so many things I can't tell you," McClain said, as if trying to explain.
"You're not married, are you? No other woman tucked away somewhere?"
"No."
"You're not a murderer, or diseased, or—?"
"No." McClain shook his head in frustration. "Mia, I can't—"
She pressed her finger to his soft lips. Fine then. "I'm not dreaming of happily ever after, McClain. All I want is one night. And I get it. You can't tell me something. Or maybe you don't want to break my heart when you're gone...?"
His lashes fluttered shut, blond at the tips. "Mia." There was a wealth of need in that one word. Every inch of his body said one thing, while his lips said another.
Maybe McClain doesn't want to break his own heart?
"We live in a dangerous world," she whispered, "I want to take my chances where I can."
McClain simply looked at her.
"I know." This was the worst time to be trying to think her way through this. Exhaustion slid through her veins, a heavy drug.
"Mia." He rolled toward her. She felt the bed shift and then his warmth seemed to envelop her, as if their auras connected. A hand brushed her arm, and she felt the longing in that touch too.
Knew that she wasn't the only one who felt that chasm. Maybe that was why she'd connected with him so instantly?
"I owed Luc a debt," McClain murmured, so quietly she almost didn't hear him at first, "and I repaid part of that by looking after his child. It was my fault he had to leave, and when he came back I couldn't say no when he wanted to take her. Lily was his, and the only reason she'd been forced to grow up without her father was because of me. I betrayed him. I cost him everything he ever had. It tore my heart out of my chest, but she was his before she was mine."
McClain's shoulders blotted out the light of the moon through the window, leaving his body a dark mass in the night. But she could still feel the heat contained beneath his skin.
"Thank you," she whispered, reaching out and hooking her index fingers through his. "I'm sorry that you lost her."
He released a huff of breath. "So am I. This last year... riding alone... I don't think I let myself look too closely at all that I'd lost. But the truth is, I miss her. The way she'd look at me as if I could solve every problem in the world. I miss my sister, Eden, and I miss having a home. Having friends."
"You could find a new home." She rubbed her thumb against his. "Maybe you could see your sister again?"
No. The answer was no. She felt it in him.
And it hurt her heart.
She at least had something.
McClain shifted. "Mia...."
Here it came.
"I should sleep in the chair," he said, withdrawing his hand from hers. Swinging those long legs over the bed, he made to sit up, but she scrambled after him and caught his wrist.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Nothing can happen between us. You know that, right?" Shadow sliced across his high cheekbones as he glanced back at her.
"Yeah, I got it." Thanks. She nursed her injured feelings. "I wasn't going to do anything."
"Every time you touch me you make this harder."
Mia withdrew her hand and knelt on the bed. "Then I won't touch you. The bed's just big enough for two of us. And even if I were tempted, I'm fairly certain I don't have the energy anymore. I'm wrecked. And I won't pretend you don't do all kinds of bad things to my willpower, but I need sleep." She lowered her butt onto her heels. "You're exhausted too. And we're both adults. We can share a bed for one night without it going any further. Besides, that chair looks uncomfortable."
McClain sighed. "It is uncomfortable."
And that was about as much capitulation as she was going to get tonight.
"Stay," she told him. "I promise I won't ravish you in your sleep."
McClain lay back down, clasping his hands under his head. Despite her words, she couldn't resist looking at the powerful muscles in those upper arms. "Good night, Mia."
Later. Maybe. She wasn't going to give up on that hope. Tonight he'd reached out to her. That was something. Mia squeezed her eyes shut. "Good night."
Slipping her jeans off, she slid under the blanket and gave him her back again, ignoring the pointed silence from the other side of the bed. He would just have to deal with the fact her legs were bare. She was too tired, too ratty, to give a shit anymore. Especially after that latest rejection.
Or was it?
Her eyes shot open in the dark as she thought about his words. Nothing can happen between us... Not I don't want anything to happen.
Every time you touch me you make this harder....
Mia caught her breath in the dark. The problem wasn't the fact he didn't want her. No. He clearly did.
Just what was he hiding?
It made her uncomfortable and she snuggled in under the blanket, pondering this latest revelation.
She was going to find out McClain's secrets. This constant to-and-fro threatened to drive her crazy. And the one person who knew McClain's secret was Jake.
Mia's eyelashes fluttered closed. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow....
Game on, McClain.
Eighteen
SOMETHING HAD CHANGED.
Adam realized that two seconds after he woke the next morning. He'd half expected Mia to be wrapped around him—last night she'd come perilously close to tempting him to break his promise. But there was no sign of her in his sheets beyond the scent of her and the imprint where she'd lain. Mia smelt like a woman. The soft musk of her natural body odor, the soap she used in her hair—chamomile—and that hint of warm linen....
Fuck. Adam scrubbed his face with his hand as his cock woke up. It had been half-hard when he woke, but now it was alert and ready for action.
Only one thing missing....
"Behave," he muttered, rearranging himself in his underwear. He'd stripped his jeans off sometime during the night, thanks to the heat.
Inside the washroom the shower turned on. Adam couldn'
t stop himself from turning his head that way. Mia. Wet. Naked. His mind supplied a generous image, and he groaned. Now he was losing the battle within his own head.
Would that be so bad?
She'd made it clear last night that she didn't expect anything more from him than sex. No broken hearts. Just a memory.
He hadn't realized how much the thought of that tempted him.
She knew he was keeping a secret. She'd been okay with that.
In the light of day it was easier to work his way through this mess. Adam rolled out of bed, still not entirely certain what he was planning. All he knew was that he wanted to see her, and that not having her was starting to hurt more than he'd expected.
The door to the washroom cracked open half an inch. Adam rapped on it with his knuckles. "Mia?"
"Come in."
If she was naked, he was not going to be able to stop himself. But when he nudged the door open, she was still wearing a shirt. His shirt, he realized. The black cotton hung down the back of her thighs, caressing the rounded curves of her ass, and highlighting her dark skin. Her panties lay discarded on the floor.
It looked good on her. It was also a little confronting to realize that a part of him wanted to see her in his shirt every morning for the rest of his life.
That thought was not just friends. Even with benefits.
"We need to talk," he said.
"I thought we did enough of that last night."
Mia's face remained carefully neutral as she waved her hand under the water spray, testing the warmth. Her black hair was a riot of gorgeous curls. Most of the time she tried to tame them, either by knotting it all back or braiding it. He liked it like this. Fresh out of bed in the morning. He could almost imagine wrapping his fist around a handful of it and pinning her beneath him.
"I'm just having a shower," she murmured, grabbing the soap off the bench. "I'll be out shortly."
And suddenly he couldn't keep this up anymore.
"Here are the rules," he grated out. "One fuck. No holds barred. And we don't talk about it afterward. No messy emotions. No future. No expectations. Just a memory to warm ourselves with forever."
Mia dropped the soap. "What?"
