by Amy Andrews
They pulled up outside the two-story building that housed the Kennedy Family Veterinary Practice. The lights were off in the rooms downstairs. Sal must have been finally finished for the day.
Which meant she’d be waiting upstairs for them.
Josie dragged her focus from the window when Mack cut the engine. “I reckon we can, don’t you?”
His gaze roamed over her face and dropped lower. She felt it on the buttons of her shirt, her breasts, her skirt, her thighs.
“Nope. Not with you looking like that.”
She studied herself. “Like what?”
“Sal’s pretty attuned to body language, and you do look…” He checked her out again. Josie’s body did not object, her nipples hardening at his thoroughness. His eyes settled on her mouth. “Very well kissed.” Her lips tingled in blatant response. “Better do something about your makeup.”
Josie nodded. The tingle became a buzz. “Uh-huh,” she murmured.
Her bag sat between them, and he handed it to her. “I’ll watch.”
His mouth quirked up at the side at his joke, and she returned it. But that didn’t stop her hormones from dancing a wild, wild tango.
Chapter Seven
Mack opened the door and stood aside for Josie to enter. The smell of them—of him on her—enveloped him in a cloud of lust, and he shook his head at the surrealness of it all.
He’d had sex. With Josie. In an alley.
“You’re back,” Sal said from the direction of the kitchen. “I rang you about half an hour ago, but you didn’t answer.”
Ah, the ringing phone from earlier. He’d had sex with Josie in an alley while his sister was ringing her on the phone. And now they had to pretend it hadn’t happened, which was going to be pretty damn hard with Josie standing there in that skirt, knowing he’d slid his hand under it less than a half hour ago. That he’d had his hand in her underwear.
More than his hands.
But it had been a one-off. And they couldn’t afford to tip off Sal. She’d be ruthless—annoyed or thrilled, she’d still be ruthless.
“You called?” Josie asked.
He smiled to himself as Josie’s cheeks pinked up, and she joined Sal in the kitchen, making a great show of hunting through her bag for her phone. Her quick glance at him, and the blush spreading over her face, told him she was thinking about what they’d been up to when her phone had rung.
“I must have had it on vibrate.” She pulled her mobile out and made a great show of checking the screen. “Oh, yes, so you did.” Josie glanced at it, then back at Sal. “It was noisy in the pub.”
“You shouldn’t have gone out by yourself,” Sal said as she poured a glass of wine and offered to pour two more.
“Thank you,” Mack said, accepting a wine. He looked at Josie with a stern expression. “That’s what I told her.”
“I was fine,” Josie huffed.
Sal quirked an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. “She was being accosted by two inebriated jerks when I found her.”
“Josie!”
Mack was familiar with that exasperated little lilt as Sal’s voice went up at the end. He’d been on the wrong end of it too many times.
“I was fine.” She scowled at him.
“You were after I arrived.” He grinned, enjoying himself. It was nice to have someone here to absorb some of his sister’s bossiness.
“Yeah, you took real good care of me.”
Mack choked on his mouthful of wine. He narrowed his eyes at Josie’s triumphant little smile.
“Good man,” Sal said, missing the innuendo as she busied herself opening the oven door and filling the kitchen with an aroma fit for a restaurant. “I made mac and cheese. And there’s a Die Hard marathon on TV. Who’s in?”
Mack’s stomach growled. It had been a long day, topped off by a bout of crazy, vigorous, public fornication. He could eat a woolly mammoth. “Sounds good.” He took a gulp of his wine and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Start without me. I need to shower.”
“He smells like horse,” Josie said, and Mack glanced at her, their eyes meeting across the kitchen behind Sal’s back.
Sal snorted as she dished up. “So, what else is new? You’re never going to get laid smelling like horse all the time.” She glanced at Josie. “Tell him,” she said before turning back to the hot dish.
Mack winked at Josie, and she grinned back. “You’re never going to get laid if you smell like horse,” she parroted.
He lounged against the kitchen bench. “I’ll have you know some women find it a turn on.”
Another snort from Sal. “Who told you that?”
“It’s virile, apparently. What do you reckon, Josie?”
She shook her head at him in warning, but he could see the little quirk to her lips, and as she was the one who’d started with the innuendo, she could squirm for a little bit. He wanted to suggest she walk right on up to him and take a nice deep sniff but wasn’t sure he could be trusted around that skirt.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Mack chuckled; he couldn’t help himself.
Liar.
Sexy. Little. Liar. Standing there in that skirt with his scent all over her, looking like butter wouldn’t melt. He let his gaze drift to her breasts and linger a little. Heat flared in his loins, and he was satisfied to see the pink in her cheeks when he returned his attention to her face moments later.
Thankfully, Sal crashed their innuendo party. She shoved a bowl into Josie’s hands. “Come on,” she said. “It’s starting. Yours, horse-boy,” she said as she passed by Mack, “is on the bench for when you smell human again.”
Josie grinned at him as she, too, brushed past. It took a surprising amount of willpower not to grope her arse.
…
At two o’clock in the morning, Josie was still awake. Wide awake. Her brain was reliving in full, graphic, Technicolor detail what had happened in the alley, and her body was buzzing. She squirmed against the mattress as the ache between her legs grew exponentially.
She was hot and flustered and wet just thinking about it.
Sitting opposite Mack tonight, watching Die Hard and eating pasta, had been bizarre and excruciating in equal measure. On the surface, everything was business as usual. The three of them laughing and chatting like old times. But underneath was a different matter.
Dressed in briefs and a T-shirt, Mack had stretched his long legs out on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles. They drew her eye constantly—well defined muscles, a light covering of dark blonde hair, very large feet, which she now knew was definitely indicative of other parts of his anatomy.
Every time he’d shifted, his quads would bunch and then relax, and all she’d been able to think about was how they must have bunched and relaxed as he’d thrust in and out of her in that alley.
How strong his legs were. How strong he was.
And then there’d been his shirt. It was old. Soft and loose, obviously well-worn but managing to fall very nicely against the muscles of his abdomen. The kind of shirt that encouraged a girl to snuggle. That would smell of laundry detergent and sunshine and man.
And then there were the times when his hand had occasionally come to rest in his lap. Over the package bulking out his briefs. She’d spent a large slice of the movie thinking about that package, and realizing she hadn’t seen his penis.
Given the dark, her boneless state, and the lack of space between them, it was hardly surprising.
And she had felt it. In her hand. Rubbing against the juncture of her thighs. Thrusting deep inside her.
But lying in bed, turning the events of the alley over and over, she wished she had seen it.
It had felt long and thick. Hard. God, so hard. And while she hadn’t seen that many in her lifetime, she’d read enough to know there were a million variations out there in the world.
What would his look like?
Curtis had covered up his naked body because he’d been embarrassed by nudity.
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She’d bet her last cent that Mack would strut.
Josie rolled over and stuffed her fist between her legs as the ache became almost unbearable.
How was it possible to think this way about him? Her best friend’s brother. Her friend. Or maybe the question was, when had Mack gotten this sexy?
Had sex with him in the alley tripped some switch in her? Ripped away her blinkers? Replaced her platonic glasses with red-hot sex-ray vision?
Why did she suddenly want…more?
Because, dummy, it’s been a long time since you’ve had sex that thrilling and exciting. That freaking good.
A very long time.
So, long in fact, she’d forgotten how addictive it could be. She’d gotten staid and boring, had traded safety for mediocrity. She’d settled for beige sex with a beige boyfriend.
But she didn’t want to anymore. Not after sex that had popped and fizzed with every color of the rainbow, twisting behind her eyeballs like the myriad patterns of a kaleidoscope.
The list insinuated itself into her brain and whispered him, and something wild and wanton pulsed between her legs. She pushed her fist harder into the ache to relieve it and shut her eyes against the sinful proposition and images of Mack tying her up and having his way with her.
No. Mack and she were a one-time thing. They were friends, first and foremost, and sex always screwed up friendships—any number of glossy women’s magazines could tell her that. And besides, Sal was certain she needed a bad boy for the list.
The whisper came again. He fucked you in an alley with all your clothes on. How much badder does he need to be?
It made a good point.
But…they were friends. It was complicated and fraught with potential disaster. And even if she was sexually delirious enough to put that all aside, surely the time to have brought up the possibility of ticking off the list with him would have been directly after they’d publically fornicated.
Broaching the subject in his truck would have been much better timing. If ever there’d been a time to say, so, how about it, that was the prime opportunity.
But she hadn’t.
Nope. That boat had definitely sailed.
Damn it all!
…
An hour later, Josie gave up fighting. She was ready to swim out to the damn boat without a vest, a wetsuit, or a shark cage and beg him to let her ride again—even if it meant her total humiliation.
If he did reject her list proposition out of hand, which she could hardly blame him for given the potential for monumental disaster, maybe she could coax him into just one more time. Tonight, with the ache between her legs roaring to life, she’d take what she could get from the man who had opened her eyes to kaleidoscope sex.
Giving herself no time to chicken out, Josie leaped out of bed. She didn’t stop to change into something slinky, check her hair, or fix her face—any equivocation would see her straight back under the covers. Instead, she just crept out of her room.
With her pulse roaring in her ears and bounding through every cell of her body, Josie tiptoed down the hallway until she was standing outside Mack’s door. The urge to run, to settle for safe again, rose in her—fleetingly—before the more urgent pulse between her legs quashed it ruthlessly.
Just do it. The time for beige was over.
Josie took a deep breath, her pulse so loud it sounded like a cyclone in her head, and reached for the knob. It turned easily, and she pushed the door open slightly. A loud creak rang out, louder than a coffin lid in an old black and white horror film, and she froze. She stood there, stock still, waiting for the hallway light to flick on and for Sal to charge toward her with a baseball bat.
It didn’t. She didn’t.
But just when she was congratulating herself and wallowing in the rush of relief to her extremities, she heard a whispered, “Josie?”
A very male whisper.
She swallowed. Here goes nothing.
Josie peeped her head around the door to find Mack half raised on his elbows. There was no bed, just what looked like a couple of double mattresses stacked on each other. Moonlight slanted through the blinds covering the high window above his bed, striping his body in interesting light and even more fascinating shadow. His hair was rumpled, the sheet was pushed down to his hips, and his naked chest was on full magnificent display.
Oh my.
Her gazed dropped lower. His legs were akimbo in that lazy dominate way males had and, thanks to the moonlight illuminating his interesting contours, Josie was fairly certain he was naked under the sheet, too.
“Josie?”
She dragged her attention back to his face and opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing came out. There was no blood left in her brain. It had scattered to her breasts, her thighs, her belly. Engorging her nipples, heating her buttocks, and surging like the tide down deep and low.
He sat up straighter, propping his back against the wall, his abs moving nicely. “Come in,” he whispered.
She did not need a second invitation.
After shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could, she turned back to face him. “You need to oil that damn thing,” she murmured.
His crooked smile cranked up his sexiness another notch. “You here to critique the hinges?”
Josie shook her head as her real purpose was thrust center stage. “Can’t afford a bed?” She hedged a little more.
He grimaced. “Long story.”
Josie nodded. The silence stretched between them.
“Can I help you with something?”
Could he ever.
No more putting it off. “I’m here about the…” Her low murmur vibrated inside her dry throat, and the urge to cough bore down on her. But she didn’t want to make any noise that might wake Sal. Not while she was in here propositioning Mack, anyway, so she cleared it as quietly as she could. “Because of the…”
Try as she might, she just couldn’t say it out loud. She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “About the list.”
If Mack was surprised, he didn’t give it away. He just looked at her from hooded eyes as he lounged against the wall. He folded his arms across his magnificent chest and cocked an eyebrow. “What about the list?”
He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
“I was wondering if you might be…interested in helping me out with it while I’m here?”
This time, Josie definitely saw a response. The slight tensing of his jaw, his grip firming on one nicely rounded bicep. “Are you sure I’m not too nice?”
His gravelly question slid deliciously over her sensitized, hyper-aware body. “I was wrong about that.”
He held her gaze for long, silent moments. “Damn straight you were.”
She swallowed. There was something very male about his spread-eagled pose. She was the one standing, looking down at him, looming over him in fact, and yet, somehow, with that casually virile pose, those four little words dominated the room.
Her blood heated another degree. She glanced away, noticing his foot sticking out of his sheet.
A very large foot.
“The way I see it,” she said, trying not to think about his feet or what lay beneath the sheet, “we both have an itch to scratch. I’m leaving in two weeks and we have…chemistry if the alley is anything to go by…”
That crooked smile again as he said, “Oh definitely.”
Josie nodded as said chemistry cranked up a notch or two further. “So…?”
Heat rose in her cheeks, pooled in her belly, and sizzled in her blood as she watched him. He was watching her back, waiting.
And waiting.
Please, don’t make me beg.
“There seem to be lots of good reasons why we shouldn’t,” he said finally.
“True.” There were very good reasons, and he was being very sensible putting it out there. But she couldn’t think about them with the heavy beat of desire drumming through her body.
“You
’re my sister’s best friend,” he continued. “That makes you pretty much off-limits.”
“But we’ve already crossed that line.”
Crossed it. Stomped all over it. Blowtorched it into oblivion.
She watched as his throat bobbed. “You want me to scratch your itch, Josie?”
So freaking bad. “Yes. If you…you know…want to. If you’re interested…”
Chapter Eight
Mack’s heart was hammering like a train in his chest. He’d been lying awake thinking about Josie for hours. About the alley. About their game of kitchen innuendo, the way she’d teased him in front of an unsuspecting Sal. Every cell in his body was awake and humming long past his usual sleep time.
And she stood in front of him now, asking him if he wanted to? If he was interested? In a baggy T-shirt that slipped off one nicely rounded shoulder, draped enticingly against her breasts, barely reaching mid-thigh and screaming easy access?
He was so turned on he’d hardly breathed properly since she’d crept into his room. But she was standing there blushing, averting her eyes, shifting nervously from foot to foot, asking him if he was interested?
He took a moment to settle his rocketing pulse. She reminded him of a skittish foal ready to bolt if he put the slightest foot wrong. Despite her sexual abandon in the alley, being with Curtis hadn’t given her a lot of confidence. And that was just a crime against nature.
How could she doubt that he’d want to?
She was a sexy, needy woman, and suddenly, he was so damn horny he was about to faint from the blood draining from his head to destinations further south.
For the first time in a long time, he felt alive!
Yes, two weeks of sex with his sister’s best friend—his friend—was fraught with potential difficulties. But not if they outlined the boundaries to begin with. If they went into this specifically for the purpose of getting through her list before she flew to the other side of the world, then it could work.
And frankly, if she thought he was going to let her loose with that list then she didn’t know him at all. They’d crossed a line tonight that maybe they shouldn’t have, but what was done was done, and there was no going back now. She’d asked him for more, and he was totally up for it. Who better to initiate her into a world where sex could be fun and easy and utterly debauched than someone who’d known her forever? Who cared about her?
