Chapter Eleven
Trev drove the old ATV under the equipment roof, towing the damaged machine behind him.
As soon as he cut the engine, Mac swung her leg off the seat of the wreck and stood, grimacing as she brushed mud and dirt away from the front of her jacket.
It had been a job wrestling the heavy machine out of the gully, even with the help of a winch and a sturdy Ponderosa pine.
They’d both gone down a time or two on the slick bank as they struggled for footing, but Trev sensed that it wasn’t mud bringing the ready-for-battle expression to her face.
Mac had shit to deal with now that Brooke was back in the picture.
“I’d better let Raisin out.”
“I’ll walk you. I’m going your way.” And there were things he wanted to discuss. Mac was a tough woman, but there were limits and it looked like Brooke might screw her over again.
Unless he did something …
Mac gave him a quick sideways look before starting up the walk. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?”
“Whatever heroic thing you’re thinking of.”
“You misread me.”
“I don’t think so,” she said as she continued to the door. “I’d hope this job at the arena would pan out because it’s kind of perfect for me. It’s not going to.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah. I think I do.” When she opened the door, Raisin darted out, and then she turned to face him. She studied his face briefly, then said, “Coming in?”
The invitation surprised him, given the way she’d been shutting down, but he was glad of it. They needed to talk.
“For a minute.”
Mac had pushed Hayes’s boxes against the far wall of the living room, stacking them neatly to give herself more room. The room was still cramped, but less haphazardly so.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.”
She gave him dry smile. “Thanks. Now promise me you’ll stay out of my business.”
He positioned himself against the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest, telling himself that it wasn’t to keep from reaching for her. Comforting her.
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Talk to Brooke?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I can’t see how it would help.” Her mouth tightened. “Besides that, I’m going to talk to her.”
His gaze shot up to meet hers. “Like you just said, what would it help?”
“I guess it would give me that closure people talk about.”
Trev wouldn’t try to stop her, but he couldn’t help the protective instinct that urged him to do just that.
Mac reached out to give his upper arm a reassuring stroke. “I won’t fight her. I promise.”
He let out a short laugh. “My money is on you if you did.”
He took a gentle hold on her shoulders and dropped his forehead to touch hers. There they stood for a long moment until he tipped up her chin and kissed her lips. “You’re not alone in this, you know.”
Instead of answering, she cupped his face and pulled his mouth down to hers. The kiss was soft and sensual, sparking a reaction that he fought to contain. “I don’t need backup, Trev. I can handle my life alone.”
“Looking to join Wade in the Stubbornness Hall of Fame?”
“Not the same thing.” She was withdrawing, and Trev wasn’t ready to let her go.
“Well, while you’re handling things, you can stay on here. I have to go back to my job next week. Jordan will be here in a couple days, but we can still use the help.”
She went still, her fingers clutching the canvas sleeves of his muddy coat.
He cupped the side of her head with one hand. “Mac?”
She pulled in a breath, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “Lots of surprises today.”
She doesn’t want you to go.
Now Trev went still.
“I’m good,” she said after the silence had stretched on just a little too long for comfort.
His grip on her waist tightened. “Are you? Because I’m not.”
“What do you want, Trev?”
“You.”
*
Mac’s breath caught as she met Trev’s intense gaze. This cowboy had been messing with her peace of mind, disrupting her thoughts for too long. “That can be arranged.”
He waited a beat, as if expecting her to backtrack. “Are you sure?”
Mac answered with actions rather than words, reaching out to push Trev’s canvas coat off his shoulders.
He shrugged and it landed in a sodden heap behind him.
He returned the favor, helping her out of her coat, then tossing it aside as he pressed his lips into the hollow of her shoulder.
Raisin scratched at the door again and Trev reached behind him to open it, pushing it shut as soon as the wet dog scampered back inside, stopping next to Maclyn to shake the water off her curly coat before jumping into the dog bed.
Mac barely noticed the shower, intent as she was on stripping Trev out of his damp shirt.
Her cold fingers fumbled at the buttons, but she got the job done, pushing the shirt open and then running her palms over the hard muscles of his chest. He jerked a little at her touch, then captured her hands in his and brought them up to his mouth, blowing on them.
“You’re cold.”
“Warm me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Trev led her into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them before proceeding to follow her directions.
And warm her he did. It was counterintuitive that removing her clothing would bring such heat to her body, but Mac had never been good with the properties of physics.
She let her head drop back as he caressed her breasts, the calluses on his fingers creating a delightful friction before his hands traveled on, sliding her jeans down over her hips, crouching so that she could use his shoulder for balance as she stepped out of the rain-soaked denim.
He started to undo his belt, but she stopped him by covering his hands with her own.
“Let me.”
“Not going to fight you.” He surrendered the buckle and Mac went to work, unbuckling, unbuttoning and fighting damp denim until her prize was at hand.
Or rather in hand. His erection felt immense, intense, but so was her need for the man.
She pressed into the long length of him, kissing him deeply as she stroked the hard ridge trapped between them.
“Mac …”
“Hmm?” she asked innocently.
“Hmm?” he mimicked, smiling in a way that warned of trouble ahead before easing her down onto the sleeping bag that covered the bare mattress and allowing his clever fingers to go to work. She bucked beneath his touch.
“Easy,” he murmured into her ear.
“It’s …” she fought to push the words out past her ragged breathing “… been a while.” Too long of a while, because what little control she had was slipping away.
But so was his.
His movement became more instinctive as he lowered himself onto her, nudging her thighs apart until she was cradling him against her, his erection pressed at the exact spot that would do her the most good.
“Please?”
When had she ever wanted anyone with this kind of primal need?
Never. And when he finally relented and eased himself into her, slowly, his shoulder muscles trembling from the effort of restraint, she pushed her hips upward, taking him to the hilt.
And that was the beginning of the end. Trev started moving slowly, each measured thrust taking her closer to the edge.
She fought her way back a few times, but it was a lost cause and in the end, she simply hung on, thinking she’d never felt anything so perfect as this man moving against her. In her.
The errant thought was almost enough to bring her to her senses … almost.
The orgasm had her crying out, something she never did. She buried her face against his shoulder as he gave two more deep thrusts then followed her over the edge and throbbing inside of her.
Mac wasn’t sure, but she might have seen stars. Trev’s head dropped onto the pillow beside hers then his muscles went tight again. He pushed himself to his elbow, frowning down at her. “No condom.”
Yeah …
“I’ve got it covered.”
“Sorry about that.” He dropped his head back to the pillow. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Me, either,” she murmured. “But it’s okay.” She laughed a little. “Never have I ever.”
“No condom?”
“Had an orgasm like that.” She grimaced at him as she became aware of a clammy sensation against her foot. “Wet socks and all.”
“I couldn’t get them off in time.” He planted an elbow on either side of her head, pressing her into the mattress and giving rise to thoughts of round two, only this time she’d see about protection.
This man was special. This man was dangerous.
He stroked her hair, his expression softening as he studied her. “Don’t worry, Mac. I won’t hem you in.”
This man was reading her mind.
Somehow he knew the exact words to reassure her. Did she need to worry about that?
No. She stroked a hand along the curve of his back, felt hard muscles shift beneath her palm as he adjusted his position and pressed a kiss to her neck.
“I should go.”
“Curfew?” she teased. He nipped her shoulder, and she laughed.
He rolled over, pulling her with him so that she ended up stretched along the length of him, in no hurry to leave her bed. “I once caught Hayes’s girlfriend climbing out his bedroom window.”
“When you were teens?”
“Nope. Last September.”
Maclyn propped herself onto an elbow. “Really?”
“Neither of them were interested in a commitment at the time. It was better to keep it on the down-low.”
“And then they got interested?” She truly hoped that Trev was not relating a parable about commitment. His next words reassured her.
“They were always interested. They’d dated years before, and the spark never died.”
“Ah.”
“Are we good?” he asked, his expression suddenly serious.
“Yeah. You?”
“I might need time to recover physically, but …” He flashed a pirate’s smile.
She rolled out of bed and held out a hand to hoist him to his feet.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“You’re the one who said you had to go. What are you going to wear home?”
“My boxers, boots and jacket.”
“How is that going to work?”
“I’m going in through Hayes’s bedroom window. I’ll pick up the clothes tomorrow.”
*