Lead Me A Stray (Hearts Bend #7)
1. Mack
MACK
Oh shit.
The faint sound of running water down the hall means I’ve overstayed my welcome. I might be welcome if Piper knew I was here but she doesn’t, and if I’m lucky I’ll be able to sneak out before she’s any the wiser.
Easing off the couch as quietly as I can, I grab the corners of the throw blanket and fold it, placing it back where I found it as I grab my jeans from the floor. The bathroom door creaks open and fuck—her bare feet pad down the hall and there’s no room to hide.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Like a freight train comin’ at me at full speed, there’s no time to avoid the inevitability of this situation as I stand there frozen, my fingers unmoving where they’d attempted to button my jeans.
Because my first glimpse of Piper is her dark hair, messy from sleep and falling around her shoulders, bare legs, and a silk lavender robe that hangs open, revealing the curve of her naked breasts and light gray panties.
And nothing else.
Nothing except her nipples imprinting against the fabric.
God dammit.
Abandoning my quest to secure my pants, I slowly open my hands and place them in front of my dick that is most definitely getting hard just from looking at her. And while I’d definitely love to get acquainted with her, now is not the time.
She must catch the movement out of the corner of her eye, her whole body snapping to face me as she lets out a blood-curdling scream.
And then a growl.
“Jesus Christ, Mack Crosby, what the hell are you doin’ in my house?!” Piper’s cheeks are flushed as she fights to close her robe, clutching the fabric up by her neck as if that makes everything better.
It doesn’t.
It just pulls the silk tighter against her full breasts, and I have to swallow back a groan because fuck she’s hot.
“Mornin’, Honey Girl. If I’d known you were gonna be up so early, I would have put on the coffee.” I give my sister’s best friend my most winning smile and try not to outwardly react when I catch her staring at my bare chest.
Hell, yes.
“You can’t just be in my living room, Mack! And where are your clothes?”
“I have a key.”
“That’s for emergencies.”
“It was an emergency.”
“What, couldn’t find a girl to go home with?” she snarks and I watch as a flash of something moves across her pretty face.
“First of all, I’m insulted.” I try to sound offended but don’t quite pull it off because she’s rolling her eyes before I’ve gotten the words out. “I was stuck out on the Jacobson Ranch. He’s got a lot of work to do and paid extra to make sure everything was fixed before I left.”
“And?”
“And, I saw a plastic bag float across the intersection down the road and thought it was a bear or a raccoon or something and decided that hallucinating at three in the morning wasn’t a good idea.”
Her lips twitch. “So you slept naked on my couch?”
“I kept my boxers on.” Pausing, I add, “I only sleep naked at home.”
This time the faintest pink stains her cheeks, and I’ll take that as a win because I have loved this woman what feels like my whole life. Unfortunately, she’s never given me the time of day, instead relegating me to being her best friend’s little brother.
And then shunning me for being a ladies’ man and a playboy out of high school until now. It’s not my fault she’s dated loser after loser since I turned eighteen. I tried but she acted like the four years between us actually mattered back then and she still does.
At twenty-five, I’m more than established and able to take care of her—not that she needs it, but damn if I don’t want to. Right now, “work hard, play hard” is my motto because if she’s gonna put me in a box then I might as well have the fun that goes with the reputation.
Or at least that was the idea.
Until last week when she finally broke up with the latest loser to be granted the boyfriend designation. The guy was an absolute douchebag which makes me want to rage because what in the actual fuck did she see in him?
And what the hell do I have to do to get her to see me?
“I meant to text you but…”
“Raccoon versus trash bag,” she mumbles with a slight nod as if it makes perfect sense.
“You only got three hours of sleep.” Concerned soft mint-green eyes meet mine and I shrug one shoulder.
“If you promise to keep your boxers on, you can sleep in my bed for a while longer.” Popping a hip, she adds, “Seein’ as how you have a key and all. ”
Damn, that’s tempting.
Really tempting.
“If you want me in your bed, Honey Girl, all you have to do is ask.”
Lips twisting in disgust, she huffs and spins on her heels toward the kitchen. “Forget I said anything.”
When her back is turned, I adjust my dick and button my jeans before snagging my shirt from the floor, my feet moving across the hardwood as I pull it over my head.
I close the distance between us, and she gasps when she turns around, the glass of water in her hand sloshing over the rim and onto my shirt.
But I barely feel it.
Because there’s never been a moment more pivotal in the little game we play than this.
“Shit, Mack, you—”
“You can be damn sure, Honey Girl, that the first time I’m in your bed,”—wide eyes lock on mine, her pupils dilated as her mouth forms a sexy little O—“it won’t be for sleeping.”