by Penny Dee
Mackenzie continued to stare at the ceiling. “I thought I was preoccupied by exams but then it all started to fall into place. When Derek’s need for my attention truly ramped up.” She gave a little shake of her head and then turned to look at me. “That’s when the real fun started.”
“Z—”
“He didn’t win,” she assured me quickly, and then she smiled, but it was close-lipped and I was pretty sure it was to reassure me and downplay the horror she’d endured. “Not in the end, anyway.”
She was quiet for a moment and we both stared up at the ceiling—me, trying to digest what she was telling me with the swell of anger in my chest at the thought of what she had endured.
Then she startled me with her next words.
“He got me,” she said simply, and when I realized what she had said and what it meant, my throat tightened. “I had been studying at the library and had lost track of the time, so it was late when I left. He had been waiting for me. Watching and waiting in the darkness. When I was walking to my car he came up behind me knocked me out and took me to the pool house on campus.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, while I held my breath. “I woke up tied to a chair.”
I swallowed heavy and the sound seemed loud in the silence. Her words bit into me and I started to dread the details.
As a pro-athlete, I’d had my fair share of unwanted attention by crazed fans, but nothing, nothing, like this.
“He told me he loved me. That we belonged together. I pleaded with him to let me go but all he would keep saying was that he wanted some alone time with me. That we could swim and kiss, and make love in the pool.” She frowned and her words faltered a little as she recalled her horror. “I still hate the smell of chlorine.”
Nausea swirled in my belly. I couldn’t stand what I was hearing.
“He hadn’t counted on security noticing the extra light on in the building. Thankfully, before he could get me in that pool . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know if I would ever have gotten out of that pool alive if the security officer hadn’t stopped him.”
Beside me she was as still as a church mouse. Almost detached from what she was recounting to me. And I could only imagine it was through months of therapy that let her recall such a terrifying ordeal without even shedding a tear.
“What happened to him?” I asked, thinking he had better be rotting in some jail cell somewhere.
“State psychiatrists decided he was too mentally unwell to stand trial.” I heard her swallow and sigh deeply. “That his actions were because of an undiagnosed illness and not one of malicious intent.”
“He’s not in prison?” I asked in disbelief. Anger flared in the pit of my stomach and again my fists curled into tight balls at my side.
She shook her head. “No. He’s in a private institution for the criminally insane. Even though there was some concern that he was quite sane. But his daddy is a pretty well-known judge back in Arizona. He had a lot of connections. His son was never going to do jail time.”
That anger I had in the pit of my stomach a minute ago? Yeah, it was a white-hot repugnance swirling deep inside of me.
My arms instinctively went around her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m holding you. What does it look like?”
She didn’t fight the intimate closeness of our bodies, in fact, she relaxed and settled against me and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the most amazing feeling in the world.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Thank you,” she whispered. A safe relief settled across her face, and she settled against me again and murmured, “your turn.”
I retreated away from her a fraction. “Not tonight. We should try to get some sleep.”
I felt her relax beside me even more.
“I am pretty tired,” she murmured. “Good night, Jake.”
I smiled but her eyes were already closed.
“Good night, Z.”
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Mackenzie
In the early hours of the next morning I woke up and rolled over to find Jake still asleep. He lay on his back, one arm behind his head and the sheet tented around his nether regions.
Yep. He had a boner. And damn if I couldn’t drag my eyes away from it.
“Hey, roomie.”
Looking up, my eyes met Jake’s and heat immediately flared in my cheeks. He had just busted me staring at the outline of his morning wood. And when I say staring at, basically I mean gawking.
Caught in the act, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“You have a boner!”
Because apparently I had turned into Captain Obvious in my sleep.
But Jake just grinned up at me looking all sleepy-sexy and a relentless throb took up residence between my thighs.
“Yep. But don’t take it personal, Z. It’s a guy thing.”
“Thanks, Sherlock. I didn’t think it was a girl thing,” I replied, desperately trying to act nonchalant, because the sight of his morning glory had me momentarily distracted.
He chuckled. “Don’t freak out. It’s not because I’m attracted to you.”
It surprised me how disappointed that made me feel.
“I don’t know if I should feel relieved or offended,” I muttered.
“If it’s bothering you, I can always go and take care of it.” He grinned up at me from the pillow and my stomach muscles suddenly tightened. “Or I can just stick around and you could help me out?” His annoying boyish grin faded to a molten hot look with a cocked eyebrow, and those tightening stomach muscles? Yeah, they detonated into raging want that left me pressing my legs together to stop the convulsions. My mouth was a desert. Damn, I wanted to fuck him.
I chuckled to cover my body’s traitorous reaction. “You cannot say that to me!”
“Why? You finding it hard to say no?”
I rolled my eyes. “Someone’s feeling cocky.”
“According to you, I kinda have a right to be.” He grinned again. Big, bright, and totally delicious. “What was it you said last night? A pretty big invitation?”
Again, I rolled my eyes at him but he raised an inviting eyebrow at me, so naturally I threw my pillow at him. Unfortunately, it was a direct hit to his morning wood, and he snapped into a fetal position.
“Jesus Christ!” he groaned.
“Oh, hell!” I launched across the bed to offer some kind of assistance but stopped short of touching him. “I’m so sorry. I was . . . distracted. I was trying to change the subject.” It was a feeble explanation.
“Boy, when you want to change the subject, you sure don’t mind kicking a guy in the balls when you’re doing it.”
I winced. “I’m so sorry, Jake. Let me make it up to you.” I climbed off the bed. “What about breakfast?”
Because clearly that was going to make up for attacking his nether regions.
He looked up from the bed, unwinding his body and wincing as he sat up. “I thought you couldn’t cook?”
“I can’t. But I can give it a try.”
He shook his head. “How about I fix breakfast and you can have a shower.”
A warm shower and a freshen up sounded good.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, feeling a bit guilty.
“If I can handle a seven-foot Swedish defenseman called Bubba slamming into me on the ice, I’m pretty sure I can take a fluffy pillow to the balls.”
In the bathroom, I stripped down to my birthday suit and hunted around for my towel. Remembering, I had put it in the dryer after changing into my jeans, I scurried around looking for a linen closet or some kind of secret hoard of towels but there was nothing. Great. So now I either had to put all my clothes back on or I had to ask Jake to bring it to me.
Already naked, I conceded it was easier to brave a request to Jake than redress so I cracked the bathroom door just enough to peer out—just as J
ake was pulling a fresh T-shirt over his head.
I went to say something but my words instantly vanished as my eyes drank in the visual spectacle of a half-naked Jake Pennington. Muscle pulled on muscle. Tendons maneuvered and flexed muscles onto muscles. And as much as I tried to look away, I had no chance because he had me mesmerized. Completely and utterly . . . and oh, my God, he was turning around . . .
Piercing blue eyes met mine and lingered for a moment, until one perfect eyebrow slowly lifted up.
Totally busted, heat flared in my cheeks. “I don’t suppose you could get my towel for me?”
If he knew I was basically molesting him with my eyes from the shady confines of the bathroom, then he didn’t show it. He simply handed me the towel but said nothing. And, of course, I said nothing, too, because the sight of a near-naked Jake Pennington had rendered me speechless. Where there should be words there was a big lump of nothingness. I swallowed deep and accepted the towel from him and then closed the door behind me.
Climbing into the tub, I turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm up before stepping under the spray.
Unwinding the towel from me, I tested the temperature by pushing a hand into the water streaming from the showerhead.
That was when I looked up and came face to face with THE BIGGEST SPIDER IN THE WORLD. Just sitting there like a fat hairy Buddha on the showerhead.
Hairy and ready to kill me, it was raised on its hind legs ready to strike.
And I swear to God, this thing had fangs. Big, nasty, pop-a-cap-in-your-ass fangs!
With no hesitation, I let out a blood-curdling scream and flung myself across the bathtub as I made a hasty, slippery—and very unglamorous—retreat from the tub.
Jake burst into the room just as I grabbed my towel off the side of the tub.
“Mackenzie . . .” He looked around, alarmed, and then surprise lit up his features when he saw me hovering half-naked beside the tub.
All I could do was point in the direction of the showerhead. Tarantula-kill-a-lot was already making his retreat up the wall toward the ceiling.
Fuck. Me.
Jake looked in the direction of my pointed finger.
“That’s what all the screaming is about?” he asked, like I was being completely ridiculous.
I literally shrieked at him, “I don’t like spiders!”
“Would it make a difference if I told you the feeling was probably mutual?”
“Would it make a difference if I told you you’re wasting time and fucking Mr. Fucking Mutant up there is making his fucking escape.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Kill it!” I cried.
Jake retreated from the room—I assumed, to get some kind of weaponry—but when he returned he only had a mason jar in his hands.
“What are you going to do with that? Make it some jam?”
He looked at me like that was the most ludicrous idea in the world. “Hardly. I’m going to catch it and let it go.”
“You’re WHAT—” I scurried across the room like it would somehow seek me out when Jake tried catching it. I couldn’t bear to watch. I pulled my towel up to cover my eyes, and only when I heard Jake leave the room did I secure it back around my boobs. I heard the front door open, felt the chill of cold air as it whistled through the tiny cabin, and then heard the front door close again.
When Jake walked back into the bathroom I hadn’t moved from the corner.
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Another shiver ran down my back.
“Did you really want me to kill it? Just because you were afraid of it?”
When he said it like that . . . well, wasn’t I just the worst person in the world. He made me feel guilty. Like I was somehow responsible for some mass arachnid-genocide.
“I was seconds away from being dinner,” I said.
“It wasn’t that big.”
“I’m pretty sure he was the Robert Wadlow of the spider world,” I assured him. Thankfully, my tallest man in the world metaphor wasn’t lost on him.
He gave me a pointed look. “He was just seeking out some warmth from the cold.”
“He could’ve been looking for Atlantis, for all I care.” I stood up and pulled my towel around me tighter, suddenly aware of how semi-naked I was. Thanks to the blast of cold air my nipples had turned to steel. Not something I could easily hide in my towel so I wound my arms around my chest. “What did you do with him?”
“I put him outside. He’ll find somewhere warm to crawl into,” he explained, like I was somehow worried about its welfare.
“As long as that somewhere warm has nothing to do with me.” I turned around and pointed to a small scar on the back of my thigh. “Courtesy of a brown spider,” I explained. Admittedly, I had somehow managed to sleep through the attack but I am sure it would have been terrifying if I had been awake. In the morning I’d woken up in a world of pain with a red lump forming on the back of my leg. It had taken two rounds of antibiotics and my doctor cutting it open and packing it with some weird-ass seaweed gauze, for it to heal.
Jake had to lean in and squint to even see the scar.
“I can see why you’re terrified of them,” he said, bringing out his superpower sarcasm. As he straightened, he grinned.
“What?” I snapped.
“Someone as tough as you being afraid of spiders.”
I readjusted my towel around my boobs. “Then you’ll get a real kick out of my fear of pancakes.”
“Pan—” He shook his head. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“It’s a thing.”
“Sure it is.”
“Trypophobia,” I started to explain but he had already dismissed my fear of pancakes as something ridiculous.
“Any other phobias I should know about? Puppies? Unicorns? You know, all those scary motherfuckers?”
I also didn’t like sunflowers. Seriously, those fuckers were creepy. Someone once told me that they could turn their heads as you walked by and that was enough to ignite my irrational, but totally understandable, fear of them. But I wasn’t about to share that with Jake. He already thought I was a weirdo.
I also didn’t like moths, meaning Silence of the Lambs was torture for me to watch.
I folded my arms across my chest again because damn my nipples were hard. “You are the funniest man in the whole world.”
“I’m going to leave you alone now so you can shower,” he said.
My arms fell to my side. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Quite sure.” As he headed for the door he looked over his shoulder. “Want me to leave the door open a little?”
“So you can perve on my ass?” I gave him a look. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m hardly going to perve on you while you shower,” he said. And when I looked mildly offended, he winked. “I’m totally going to do that when you’re asleep.”
I threw a wash cloth at him. “Pervert.”
He flipped me a devilish grin as he reached for the door. “Enjoy your shower.”
And with that the door closed.
* * *
Jake
Pretend you didn’t see them.
Pretend you didn’t see them.
Oh, hell.
Of course I saw them. Two perfect nipples pressing up tight against the fabric of her towel. I adjusted myself because I was as hard as freakin’ steel. Jesus Christ, I needed to do something about that.
I had zero interest in Mackenzie. Zero interest. But tell that to my dick.
I tried to focus on making breakfast. Tried to focus on buttering toast and not picturing her soaping up her naked body under a steady stream of warm water. Tried to give the poached eggs my full attention and not picture her hands sliding across her soapy breasts and over two perfect, pink nipples. Tried to remember how long the goddamn bacon took to defrost in the microwave and not picture soapsuds sliding down the length of her perfect body, down to the crevice between her thigh
s. Christ. When she came out of the shower I was going in there myself and I was going to get rid of this ridiculous need once and for all.
But what if it didn’t go away. What if . . .
I frowned. Oh, hell no. I didn’t like this woman. This annoying, tenacious woman. The sooner this blizzard passed the better.
I glanced out the window. It was still snowing and there was barely a hint of light, even though the clock on the wall said eight-forty-five. The blizzard didn’t look like it was letting up and I felt a rise of panic in my stomach.
How long was I going to be snowed in with Mackenzie?
And how the hell was I going to keep my hands off her?
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
Mackenzie
As the hours ticked by we busied ourselves with conversation, reading, napping, and eating. Jake made us both breakfast and lunch—because he knew how much my cooking skills sucked—while I made the most of this mandatory downtime and did some reading. There was no TV reception and Jake’s grandfather had never bought a DVD player, so we were really relying on keeping ourselves occupied.
Luckily, Jake’s grandfather had loved reading and had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stacked with everything from Stephen King and James Patterson, to Dan Brown, Mary Burton and Patricia Cornwell. Hell, I even found an old Jackie Collins paperback amongst some hard-hitting hockey and how-to carpentry books.
Outside, snow continued to pour from the sky. Everywhere you looked it was a blanket of pristine white. My rental car was parked by the porch but it had vanished under a thick layer of snow.
I sat curled up on the sofa, my eyes glued to the pages of a James Patterson book while Jake played solitaire on the floor in front of me. Beside us, flames crackled in the open fireplace.
“Well, hell!” I exclaimed, closing the book after reading the last page. “I did not see that coming.”
