Six Degrees of Lust (22 page)

started with his omelet and hash browns. No ketchup. “I didn’t

want to overstay my welcome.” Asshole didn’t even acknowledge

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Sam’s comment.

“Does that mean you would’ve stayed longer if you thought I

would’ve been fine with it?”

“No.” He chewed on his food, swallowed, and washed it

down with coffee. Light, with cream and two sugars. “Being as I

already knew you wanted for me to.”

“For you to do what?”

“Stay longer.”

“What?” Sam asked, like a total dork.

“You said it was a really short time when I called you about

comin’ up the first time.”

“Considering you were booking a flight and a hotel room,”

Sam hissed. “That’s what I meant. Same applies to this week. It’s

a lot of money and—”

Mac shrugged. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Sam almost growled his response this time around. “I’m not

worried.”

“What are you, then?”

“Trying to be considerate.”

“Now, why would you go out of your way like that? And

just for me?” He looked down and played with his food a little.

“Should I be flattered or somethin’?”

“Why only a few hours, Mac?” Sam repeated his original

question, refusing to dignify Mac’s with an answer.

“Why does it even matter?” he mumbled and reached for his

coffee.

“It doesn’t. But I want to know.”

“Fine.” He looked at him over the rim of his cup. Sam could

tell he was carefully considering his answer. “I have to work.”

“You’ve got to work.” Sam arched his right eyebrow. “That’s

it?”

“My job and responsibilities mean a lot to me, so yeah, that’s

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it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Think whatever you want.” He shrugged again and went

back to his omelet.

“Are you a fireman?” Sam glanced at the edges of the fire

department shield tattoo that was peeking out of Mac’s right

t-shirt sleeve.

“Not anymore.” He drank some more coffee. “I manage a

sports bar now.”

“Why did you quit?” Sam knew he should have kept his mouth

shut. The amused twinkle in Mac’s eyes was the confirmation he

most certainly didn’t need.

“You better watch it, darlin’.” He swallowed his eggs and

pointed at Sam with his fork. “You offered me a flight to NYC

and accommodations the first time and jumped at the opportunity

to see me again. We’ve been swapping illegal amounts of spit

for hours, even though I’m willing to bet you don’t like to kiss

people. You gave me a pet name and now you’re asking personal

questions. And I gotta tell you, this sharing a meal business I

proposed is startin’ to feel an awful lot like what you described

as a ‘date’ to me.”

“But we know it isn’t.” Sam’s voice was low and leveled,

his slightly amused expression the perfect disguise for the inner

turmoil the Texan’s teasing words had prompted. No way was

he losing his cool. “There’s only one thing I was interested in

knowing and that’s how far up your ass you could take my cock.”

“Right,” he whispered and Sam could have sworn the guy

looked hurt. Had Sam’s comment hit a nerve? Shit. He watched

Mac take a deep breath and straighten up in his chair before

looking Sam in the eyes. “I came here to finish this thing we

started weeks ago, and only for a few hours because there’s only

so many times you can fuck my ass in one day. Unless you’re

willing to trade places with me, I don’t see the point in staying

here longer than absolutely necessary.”

“I don’t bottom for anyone. Ever.”

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Although not against it, truth was it had not been his

inclination thus far. He was convinced he was a natural top and

always upfront about it.

Until Mac.

When Sam looked at Mac his thoughts had nothing to do

with how big he was or how easily he could overpower him, and

everything to do with how much he liked touching him. How

much he wanted to take him again, and yes, how much he’d like

to find out what it felt like to have Mac wrapped around him,

buried deep inside him.

There was no denying he was crazy for that heavily muscled

body.

“I already knew that, darlin’.”

Those mocking words snapped him out of his introspection.

Mac was shaking his head and chuckling a little, and didn’t that

bug the shit out of Sam. “Stop making assumptions about me,”

he snapped.

“Who’s makin’ assumptions? I’m just voicing what’s been

repeatedly implied by you.”

“I didn’t have to imply a thing. I was very clear about my

preference from the beginning.” Mac looked away. Sam didn’t

like it. “I thought you were fine just taking it.”

“What if I changed my mind?”

“Too fucking bad if you did.” Sam smirked. “You knew I

wanted to fuck you and couldn’t get on your knees fast enough.

We aren’t changing that.”

“True enough… Although, the way I remember it? I tried to

get on my knees and you couldn’t stop me fast enough, preferrin’

to take me on my back instead. Care to tell me why?” Mac didn’t

wait for an answer. He just grabbed a napkin and wiped his

mouth and hands before looking at Sam, deeply dimpled smile in

place. “Didn’t think so.”

Jesus.

Sam wanted to hit him for that smarting comment. Then he

154 Taylor V. Donovan

wanted to stick his tongue in those dimples of his.

“Position isn’t important to me, as long as my dick is buried

deep in your ass.”

“So you didn’t want to look at my face then.”

“Not really,” Sam snarled. No way was he giving Mac the

satisfaction of letting him know he was right, that Sam had

wanted to see his face at that particular time more than anything

in the world. “I don’t care about your face. I just wanted to come.

You could’ve been anyone.”

Mac’s lips twisted in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His

adorable dimples failed to appear as well. “I see.”

“Why did you text me again?”

“So that you could make it up to me for being such a douche

bag.”

“How the hell was I a douche to you?”

“You left without saying anything to me.” Mac’s tone was

resentful. “That was kind of low.”

“There was nothing to say. As far as I’m concerned we were

done.”

“So you didn’t want to make it up to me.”

“Fuck, no.” About that he was positive. He didn’t owe Mac

anything for sneaking out of his hotel room a week ago. “Why

would you even think that?”

“Maybe I wanted to believe there’s some decency to you.”

Mac gestured their waitress with the universal “bring the check”

sign, his eyes never leaving Sam’s. “Plus I’ve had a few rough

days and I’m tired after flying here and whatnot… You’ll have to

forgive my confusion, darlin’.”

“Do not get condescending with me.”

“Why did you agree to meet me again?”

“So that I could fuck you through the mattress, just the way

you like it.”

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Sam watched Mac smile at the waitress and take his wallet out

of his back pocket, and something inside him balked at the idea

of having the guy pick up the check. No way.

He reached for it.

Mac didn’t say anything. He just waited for the lady to walk

away and dropped two twenties on top of some napkins.

Sam planted his palms on the table and leaned towards him.

“You did like it, right Mac? You liked it every fucking time.”

“Sure did.” He flashed Sam another one of those fake smiles.

“In any event, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why’s that?” he asked carefully, pushing Mac’s money away.

“’Cause your dick ain’t good enough to make up for your piss-

poor attitude, darlin’.”

“Stop calling me darling already,” Sam growled.

Mac chuckled and pushed his money toward Sam again. “If

it makes you feel any better, in Texas we call anyone we meet

casually, darlin’. It’s nothin’ like sweetheart… or kitten… It

doesn’t mean shit.”

Sam glared at him. “I’ve got the check.”

“I can pay for my own food, thank you very much.”

“I know that.”

“Besides, if I let you buy me breakfast, next you’ll want to buy

me flowers.”

“I said I got it,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth, set on

not reacting to Mac’s smart-assed ways.

“Dutch treat, then,” Mac said, smile gone from his gorgeous

face. “I don’t need you freaking out over this being anythin’ other

than two acquaintances sharing a meal.”

Sam’s head was spinning. Their conversation was deteriorating

fast.

Something was happening there.

Something that he couldn’t stop, couldn’t even identify.

156 Taylor V. Donovan

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Is it working?”

“Cut it out Mac.” Sam’s voice was a mere whisper, but not any

less threatening because of that. “Now.”

“Or what?”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Damn… let me see…” Mac made a production out of

concentrating really hard, and even tapped his finger against his

chin before rolling his eyes. “Got it! Was you, man. So whatever

your attitude problem is, it must be contagious.”

“That was really mature.”

“Whatever. And it is time we call it a night. I’ve got a flight in

a few hours and need to catch some sleep.”

“Then take your money and let’s go.”

“No.”

“Jesus, Mac.” The situation was ludicrous and Sam was done

with it. “Buying dinner is the least I can do after…” The expression

in Mac’s eyes shut him up. It was rage, pain, mortification… all

at the same time.

“After what, Sam. Fuckin’ me?”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth.” He took his wallet

out and counted some money, still not taking Mac’s.

“I don’t have to. Your body language says it all.” He was out

of his chair and on his way to the exit before Sam could add the

tip. “Glad to know I rated breakfast at the very least.”

“Jesus…”

Sam didn’t waste time analyzing what had just happened. He

needed to get to Mac before the idiot took off walking, and was

abashedly relieved when he saw him waiting by Sam’s black SUV.

That was a good sign. It meant they could talk on their

way back to the hotel without anyone listening in on their

conversation. But as he got closer and Mac’s face became clearer,

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he realized it might not happen after all. The Texan looked so

mad Sam doubted he’d be willing to communicate.

And since when did he want to communicate with anyone?

Fuck.

Mad as hell because someone had gotten under his skin, Sam

charged towards the big blond guy.

“You want to tell me what the fuck that was all about?” he

asked when he got close enough. “Someone pissed on your

waffles while I wasn’t looking?”

“Do you have kids?”

“What?” The unexpected question stopped him dead in his

tracks.

“Kids. Children,” he repeated, standing not even two feet

away from Sam. Then he extended his arm and brushed his

fingers gingerly over Sam’s t-shirt covered left ribcage. “That

tattoo you have of baby footprints that say for Lindsey—”

“You really don’t want to go there, Mac.” Sam didn’t raise his

voice. He didn’t even move. He couldn’t.

“Who’s Lindsey?” he repeated.

“None of your goddamn business, bucko,” he growled, then

shoulder-bumped Mac out of his way.

“I’ve never done this before, you know.” That sexy drawl

followed him to the driver’s side of his SUV, but he didn’t stop.

“Get on a plane and suffer through miles of fucking turbulence

just so that I could be with a dude I didn’t know anything about

for casual sex… twice.”

“I feel sorry for you, then. You’ve been missing out.” Sam

opened his door and jumped in, only to have Mac grab him by

his arm.

“I thought I’d be fine with it, but I’m not.”

“And what the hell do you expect me to do?” Sam all but

yelled. The situation was out of control. Not knowing why made

it a hundred times worse for him. “I never fuck the same person

158 Taylor V. Donovan

twice, did you know that? You’ve already gotten more from me

than anybody else has in years. Can’t you roll with that and let it

go?”

“Why did you?” Mac insisted. “Why did you agree to see me

again?”

“Jesusfuckingchrist!” Sam growled, punching the steering

wheel. He hated the challenge in Mac’s eyes and his unwillingness

to back off.

“I’ll be going home in a few hours,” Mac said, looking

him straight in the eye. A yearning for something Sam didn’t

understand made his green eyes shine in a way that was gut

wrenching. “Just answer my question.” And his voice was almost

pleading. “I don’t wanna go knowin’ I felt… knowin’ that I did

all those things we did in that hotel room with a total stranger.”