CHAPTER 15
Frankie
His grin is lopsided and tentative at first, but I watch, hypnotized, as those sexy lips slowly spread and open, revealing a set of white and straight teeth. And then…
Not fair, cowboy. Not fair at all.
A deep dimple just formed in his cheek—but only on one side. The man has a single dimple. How does that even happen?
He’s giving off “cute troublemaker” vibes, which makes no sense. His eyes are shining like those of an eleven-year-old caught eating cookie dough, not a grown man of his proportions. A dude this huge and powerful shouldn’t be able to pull off “adorable,” but he’s doing it.
He has no idea the effect his grin is having on me.
I want to kiss that dimple. I want to brush my thumb along that full bottom lip of his, and I want to softly press my mouth to his smile.
Not fucking fair.
“Come on, Pussy. Let’s roll.” My cat’s still ignoring me.
“I’ll carry her inside.” He stands with her in his arms. He’s a giant. Massive. Pheromones are shooting out of his every pore, aiming directly at me and causing some serious damage to my self-control. And the crotch of my panties.
I drop the leash in his open palm while I clench my thighs together.
This is bad. I don’t react to bad boys like this. It usually takes me a looooong time to relax and warm up enough to be affected by a dude’s charm. But with MacLaine? Seems all I need is his presence.
And now I’m breathing funny. My heart’s skipping.
Oh, come on! This is bonkers. Men don’t get to me like this. I’m a damn stripper for fuck’s sake. I’m a man-handler by profession! Which means I should be able to handle one lava-hot rancher.
A quiet, jaw-droppingly handsome, good-hearted rancher.
I have a flashback to that long-ago night when my screaming pre-teen self went to her first Jo Bros concert. I remember standing frozen in a sea of crazed girls, staring at those three handsome Jonas Brothers on stage, unsure why I felt the way I did.
I was all hot and tingly in places I didn’t know could be hot and tingly. It was a real eye-opener.
And my eyes are being opened again right now. Wider than ever.
What am I doing?
I turn my back to MacLaine and open the cabin door. When I spin around, he’s too close to me. Just inches away. I can feel the heat roll off his big body. And the hint of his cologne—mixed with the scent of worn leather and cool mountain air—hits my nostrils like a knockout punch. I inhale deeply.
Like I can’t breathe without him.
I dare to look up into his face while I take a step back, bumping my ass into the doorframe of the cabin. MacLaine stares down at me, his gaze laser-focused and unreadable. He carefully extends his arms to deliver Pussy to my care.
But my cat decides it’s the perfect moment to hurl herself from his grasp, jump down, and skitter inside.
In the burst of activity, I lean forward to catch her and MacLaine does the same.
His fingertips accidentally brush against mine.
The back of his hand trails across my left breast—and its rock-hard nipple.
That’s all it takes.
One instant of contact blows the lid off of whatever’s sparking between us.
It’s on.
MacLaine’s muscular arms slide around my waist. He pulls me into the front of his body and crushes his mouth into mine. He doesn’t ask. It’s just another statement he’s making, and he expects me to comply.
Suddenly, all the strength drains from my legs. Me—the girl who can twerk, side dip, squat, and spin on six-inch heels for an entire shift—I don’t even have the strength to stand.
Because this kiss is… it’s overwhelming. Too good. Too right. I open my arms and reach up behind him, fisting his curls in one hand and pressing the other into the solid muscle of his upper back.
Relief floods me. I don’t understand why, but I’m incredibly relieved to know what Kevin MacLaine feels like under my touch, pressed up against me, his mouth on mine. I think I wondered if he was even real.
He is.
MacLaine’s lips are hot and slick against mine, whispering secrets and making demands. And I’m not fighting back. I want this. I need this.
Even if it’s happening at the absolute worst time.
I start to crumple. He catches me. He drops a hand to cup my ass as he carries me across the room, the toes of my borrowed hiking boots dragging along the worn wooden floorboards. With his other arm still curled around my back, he pushes me against the cabin wall, our bodies crushed together.
My breasts press against him. We’re thigh-to-thigh. His hard cock digs into my belly.
So hot. So good.
So big.
MacLaine eases up and puts an inch or two between us, even as he continues to kiss me. His grip falls away from my waist and he props both of his palms on the wall over my head. My chin tips up toward him and he’s tipped down, lips never breaking contact with mine.
I tremble as intense heat races into my lower belly and down into my panties. It feels like I’m about to cum from the force of just one kiss—a first kiss—which is ridiculous. But this is no ordinary kiss. No ordinary connection.
No ordinary man.
I think he’s just as shocked by the intensity of this kiss as I am. He’s shaking, the effort to hold back coursing through his body—the tightly wound rubber band thing I noticed. But now I’m in the same condition.
I wonder which one of us will snap first.
I smack a hand on his hard-as-concrete ass and yank him against me again. That must have been the permission he was waiting for because suddenly, everything changes.
MacLaine’s kiss turns rough and hungry, and his arms collect me once more. His tongue licks into my mouth. I open for him. I hook a leg around his hips because I’ve decided he can have whatever he wants.
The sound of my own desperate moan surprises me.
But he softens against me. His kiss becomes sweet and tender instead of aggressive, like he’s trying to get one last taste of me before he wraps this up.
I know that only moments ago I begged him to stay away from me. Fine—I’ve changed my mind. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this, but I want him to stay.
I can’t remember the last time a man left me this unsure of myself.
MacLaine lifts his lips from mine, and just as suddenly as it began, the kiss is over.
He pulls away and searches my face, raising a huge hand to my cheek. He then lightly strokes his fingertips down from my temple to my chin. I turn into his touch, wondering how a guy so huge can be so tender.
He pulls his hand away and I let the back of my head rest against the wall. Our gazes lock. I can’t put a finger on what I’m seeing in his expression, but one corner of his mouth is curled up and that dimple is back. We look at each other, saying nothing.
Knowing everything.
Without a word, he pushes away and turns on his heel, and he’s on his way out. I stay where I am because my legs are still too wobbly to walk, and I peer out the door to watch him make his way toward the horses.
He’s got a killer ass, to be honest.
“Be back tomorrow, Boots,” he says, not looking at me.
How am I supposed to respond? Have a safe trip? Bring me some chocolate when you return? Don’t forget the economy-sized pack of condoms?
“Mrrrp,” Pussy says, rubbing against my ankles.
I watch MacLaine take the horses back down the trail.
And heaven help me, but I start counting the hours until tomorrow afternoon.
Except… hold up.
What did he just call me?