No Strings Attached (33 page)

“It was a
joke,
” he defended.

“It was our secret.”

He shrugged. “No one believed me.”

“The fact that you told anyone at all makes you untrustworthy.”

“Truth is, you don’t like me, babe, so what does it matter?”

There was a long pause during which she looked surprisingly unhappy and vulnerable. He was at a loss for words. She licked her lips and swallowed. The pulse at the base of her throat was visible. It raced.

Mac knew a heartbeat could quicken from anger, physical activity, or attraction. Jen was pissed at him, but something more beat beneath the surface. He looked deep into her eyes and saw her desire. “You do care,” he said, amazed.

“Not a chance.”

“You would never have been upset by my comment otherwise.”

She frowned, then flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “There’s a big difference between liking someone and lusting after them.”

“You want my body?” he asked.

“That’s yet to be determined.”

She had the hots for him. Her attraction was real. He now understood why she’d gotten upset and put him through hell. He had thought she was punking him at her shop when she’d shared her secret. He now knew she’d been serious. Surprise, surprise.

Smiling wasn’t appropriate, especially since Jen was despondent. She’d told him the truth and now expected him to use the information against her. She drew her forearm over her eyes and hid from him.

There’d be no hiding tonight.

He leaned closer, keeping one eye on Chike. He was going after the girl and didn’t want the cat coming after him.

“I came to hang out with you,” he said, “to hold you, to talk.”

“You came for sex.”

That, too. “Introduce me to your vibrators.”

“They’re tucked in for the night.”

“Then don’t wake them up. I give better buzz.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re bad for me, Mac.”

“I’m good in bed.”

“Arrogance isn’t sexy.”

“Confidence is.”

She exhaled so sharply her body went flat. She lowered her arm and patted the mattress. “I’ll regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

He would’ve been all over her had it not been for Chike. The Savannah was a thirty-pound barrier. The cat’s ears flattened and his pupils constricted. His lips drew back. He arched and puffed up his hair, appearing bigger than he was. His tail lashed out and he gave a low, throaty yowl.

The cat’s warning was not lost on Mac. He wasn’t a wuss, but an attack cat gave him pause. He saw Chike as a challenge. He needed to get around the Savannah to get to Jen. She was enjoying his predicament and not helping him in the least, just taking it all in. He had no idea what to do. He had no experience around cats, especially ones with wild eyes.

He went on gut instinct. He would’ve given his left nut for a pair of thick, leather gloves, but all he had was skin. Having his arm ripped to shreds before the Huntington Beach Classic wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t play with his hand bandaged.

Wanting Jen won out. He’d brave the cat.

Son of a bitch.

Slowly, cautiously, he let Chike appraise his hand. Mac felt the twitch of the cat’s whiskers right before Chike bared his teeth and head-butted Mac’s palm.
Butted him twice.
The big boy swatted Mac’s wrist with one paw, then purred. Purred like a motorboat. A long jump and he cleared the bed, landing on the floor.

Mac’s jaw dropped. He watched the cat leave the bedroom. The Savannah had swagger. The other cats collected in the hallway, then disappeared into the darkness.

Mac slid off the bed and closed the door. He didn’t need Chike and his crew sneaking back in and scaring him soft in the middle of sex. He leaned against the doorjamb and caught his breath.

Jenna sent him a slow, sly smile. “You passed the Chike test,” she said, impressed. “He intimidates, but never bites. He’s a teddy bear at heart.”

A teddy bear with very sharp teeth.

His jaw worked. “You made me jump through cat hoops to get in your pants?”

“I’m not wearing panties.”

Her words stroked his dick. A twist of her hips and her nightshirt slid up to her abdomen. The sheet now wrapped her thighs and dipped between her legs. The cotton creased her sex. He was hard in a heartbeat.

He dragged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He toe-heeled his Converse. Then unsnapped, unzipped, and dropped his jeans.

Her eyes went wide. “No underwear?”

“Easy access.”

He retrieved six condoms from his wallet and returned to her bed. He dropped the Black Ice packets on her nightstand, one at a time. The sound of the silver foil wrappers against the unfinished grain of the wood was loud in the silence.

“You’re ambitious,” she said.

“I’m bred for stamina.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

He eased onto her bed and sank deep. The mattress was as soft as a goose down comforter. There was no immediate touching, only deep staring. He felt her heat. She was a woman of fire and passion and a royal pain in his ass. Still, he wanted her.

There’d be no sarcasm tonight. He’d kiss her until she didn’t have a thought in her head; much less the ability to speak. She had a kissable mouth. Lush, moist, and inviting. He nipped her lower lip and sucked gently.

She was his lightning strike. They sparked and sizzled from their first kiss. She closed her eyes and moaned. A woman’s moan, low with longing.

Arousal clutched his cock.

Anticipation jacked him even harder.

He made love to her with his mouth; his kisses were deep, thorough, and insistent. His tongue thrust between her lips, curled, tasted, seduced. She kissed him back, giving, taking, needing him.

He believed in the exchange of sexual favors.

He favored Jen. He wanted her satisfied.

He slid his hands beneath her nightshirt and felt her up. His thumb brushed her high, firm breast. He circled her nipple, then her navel with his forefinger. Sensation overtook her. She squirmed, shivered, and dug her nails into his shoulder.

Her nightshirt came off easily. The neck hole was wider than he remembered. No doubt he’d stretched the shirt when he wore it to the bazaar.

They were both naked now. He admired her bikini wax.

A brush of an arm, a turn of a leg, and friction rubbed their bodies together.

He took her way down deep into the mattress and covered her with his body. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in the cupcake scent of her lotion. Every part of his body sought its sexual mate. His chest pressed her breasts as his dick nestled between her thighs.

More kisses, more touching. More moans.

He embraced her and her soft sighs.

She wasn’t a woman to be held down long. She was strong for someone so small. Determined, too. She wiggled and squirmed. He let her escape. She pushed him onto his back. He willingly changed positions.

He hitched himself up against the headboard until he was sitting up. She then knelt between his legs, leaning up and into him. Her breath bathed his neck, his chest, his hip bones. Blood flowed to his groin when she breathed against his belly, then puffed warm air on his penis.

She took him in her mouth and his entire body twitched. The swirl of her tongue promised release.

His muscles bunched and his body burned.

His back arched and his hips came off the bed.

He clutched the sheet, strained, swelled, and went sexually insane. He was so hard he hurt.

Restraint nearly killed him. His willpower lost to his need to be inside her. He caught her by the upper arms and drew her up over his body. Her legs spread as she settled over his hips. He snagged a condom off the nightstand, stripped the wrapper, and sheathed himself.

She rocked forward then back, teasing his dick, yet refusing to take him fully. He curved his hands over her hips and squeezed her. His gut tightened. His urgency was raw, rushing, and intense.

His orgasm was dangerously close and he wanted her as wild and blind with passion as he was. Even more so, if that was humanly possible.

She looked down on him and one corner of her mouth curved. She wore a woman’s smile, one sly with intent. She went on to frustrate him further. She stroked his dick, holding him between her palms and rubbing her hands together. Friction and heat; slow, then fast. Air exploded in his lungs. Damn, he was about to die.

He refused to come without her. He ran his hands along her thighs until he reached her sex. He parted her and traced tiny circles around her clit.

She was wet, slick, and ready for him when he palmed her mound and penetrated her with two fingers. She threw back her head and let him take her higher still. Pleasure flushed her body.

He withdrew his hand and slipped inside her, a slow streamlined motion of man into woman. Her ragged sigh ripped along his nerve endings where their bodies linked.

Jenna Cates was lost to this man. Mac was sex personified. She’d grown up at the beach and spent her life swimming, surfing, and sailing. She’d seen a lot of hot guys with buff bodies. No one came close to him. He was lean, ripped, and hotwired. He was charged with electricity. His sparks licked down her spine like a hot tongue.

She ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the flow and flex of his muscles. Her legs tightened around him. She thrust her fingers into his hair, pulling his face down for a kiss. He penetrated her mouth with his tongue.

They rolled their hips, and he pumped up into her as she rocked back and forth. He groaned deep in his throat when she rose up and down, releasing his cock, then drawing him inside her once again. She took him deeply.

He touched her everywhere, palming, squeezing, stroking. Her breasts grew heavy and her clitoris tingled.

He raised his head and locked gazes with her. His blue eyes darkened; possessive and searing. His breathing became desperate.

A craving took hold of her and she began to unravel.

Time went away and her orgasm stretched to the breaking point. She moaned, stiffened. Shattered.

He came a second after her, his expression going from pain to pleasure. His ripping-hard climax drove her to a second orgasm. The aftershocks shook them both. They lay tangled and spent. The scent of sex lingered on the rumpled sheets.

Silence followed their sexual high. Neither one moved, neither one spoke. Neither chose to break their intimate truce.

He held her for a long, long time. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. They shared space. Breathed the same air.

It was then she realized her best friend Bree had been right. Every woman deserved a lover like Mac in her life.

Even for one night.

Fourteen

E
veryone deserved a birthday party like Sophie Saunders’s, Dune thought as he leaned against the sliding glass doors that separated the kitchen from the pool deck. The day was golden. Bright and sparkling. The sky was as tropical blue as the water in the pool. The air vibrated with excitement and celebration.

He’d kept one eye on Sophie throughout the afternoon. He liked knowing where she was and what she was doing at any given time. She presently sat on the side of the pool, talking to Nicole Archer from The Jewelry Box. Sophie was animated and happy. So were all the people around her.

The crowd continued to grow as the afternoon wore on. His initial plans for her party had been intimate and low-key, but word soon spread, going viral. His friends and relatives crossed Center Street to make her day memorable. No one mentioned the century-old feud. The Cateses loved Sophie and wanted to take part in her special day.

Sophie wasn’t shy today. She was comfortable with his family. She greeted her guests with smiles and hugs. Dune frowned when Mac kissed her on the mouth. His partner pushed his buttons. He could be a prick sometimes.

He glanced at all those gathered around the pool. Many lounged on the patio furniture and a few sat in the Jacuzzi. Several couples floated on double-wide air mattresses. Jenna Cates stretched out on a floating green sea turtle.

The young boys, Randy and Chuck, jumped off the diving board. Their cannonballs sprayed like geysers. No one cared. Everyone was in swimsuits.

Soon they had so many partiers, Dune and the other men set up buffet tables around the perimeters of the pool to accommodate everyone. Food in abundance was spread out everywhere, from picnic basics to gourmet dishes.

The Cates family grilled hamburgers and hot dogs. They’d brought baked beans, macaroni and cheese, corn on the cob, a variety of salads, and three-fruit Jell-O molds. Someone had sliced an enormous watermelon into triangles.

The Saunders family’s chef contributed as well. Marisole refused to sit idle at Sophie’s party. She’d arrived with a team of servers from the Sandcastle Hotel. They carted in trays of artichoke and prosciutto, crabmeat-stuffed deviled eggs, and shrimp linguini. The team loaded platters with cold fried chicken and beef kabobs. There were at least ten desserts. That didn’t include the three-tiered birthday cake.

Sophie would send everyone home with a plate of leftovers. Mac would pack a cooler.

The scent of grilled burgers drifted over to Dune, making him hungry. Everything tasted better in the open air. He was about to help himself to the buffet when Mac James sauntered over to him.

Mac nodded toward the pool. “I see you taught Sophie how to swim,” he said. “She has her own style.”

Dune agreed. A most unique style. She’d slipped into the pool and was making waves. Her arms slapped the water and her legs kicked up a storm. His sister Shaye and her husband Trace moved out of Sophie’s way as she reached the cement side.

Her hand now on the edge, Sophie bounced up and down to get her footing, then wiped the water from her eyes. She tilted her head and tried to clear her ears. Through it all, she smiled. Dune’s heart warmed just looking at her.

Beside him, Mac twitched a grin. Dune knew what was coming. He set his back teeth. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

Mac eyed Sophie. “You know what, big guy.”