Risky Play (Red Card #1)(53)

With every word my smile grew wider until it felt like I was going to bust up laughing.

Slade chuckled under his breath, then whispered to me, “I wasn’t crying . . . my eyes were dry, I used eyedrops, not real tears.”

“Sure?” I said.

“But I did text him like a bitch.”

“Huh, Slade Rodriguez, insecure? I wouldn’t have guessed.” I nuzzled his neck just as he slammed a hand against the wall like he wanted Matt to be anywhere but a few feet away from us.

“Who are you talking to?” Matt roared. “Did she sign an NDA?”

“Fuck the NDA!” Slade yelled back at about the same time I said, “Hey, Matt!”

“Mackenzie!” Matt shouted. “Slade, what did you do!”

“He made me take a shower!” I yelled.

Slade grinned. “Nothing happened!” And then he lowered his voice. “Yet.”

I gasped.

“I should have just gotten a cat,” Matt muttered.

“What was that?” Slade yelled.

“A cat! I should have gotten a cat! And now I have you and Jagger and another pissy athlete that yelled at me when you beat him out for Gucci. You need to be there next week for the photo shoot, they want to use body oils to bring out your muscles in the pictures. Good luck with that one.”

Slade scrunched up his nose.

“And keep it in your pants!” Matt yelled. “You too, Mackenzie! I’ll be watching, well, not watching because that crosses a very professional line, and we both know that sexual harassment is—”

“Matt!” Slade laughed. “Go. Away.”

“Right. Doing just that.” I thought he left and then his voice was back. “Seriously, Slade, don’t . . . just . . . please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Do I often do something stupid?”

Matt was silent.

I wrapped my arms around Slade’s neck and pulled him close until the tips of my breasts were sliding across his chest.

He let out a groan.

“Seriously,” Matt added.

Slade looked down at my lips, captured them with such ferocity that my head slid back against the tile, and then pulled back just long enough to whisper, “Too late.”





Chapter Thirty-Nine

SLADE

It had been years since I’d just made out with someone for the sake of making out and not to prime them for more.

I’d forgotten how erotic kissing was.

I’d also forgotten how hard it was when a beautiful naked woman was rubbing against me not to slam her against the wall and pin her there.

I dug my hands into her wet hair as she opened her mouth to me, and hot water fell between our bodies as we kissed. I tasted water against her mouth, with each part of her lips I drank. Her hands dug into me, clung to me like I was going to let her go, and it broke my fucking heart that she might actually think I would do that because of our history.

I wasn’t letting this go.

Her go.

I pressed my palms against hers, interlocking our fingers as I tried to put space between our bodies, but she fought me every way. I laughed against her mouth. “Professional athlete, Mack, nice try, but you’ll lose.”

“We’ll see,” she panted, and then she started sucking on my tongue. I dropped my hands, she walked right into my arms and crushed her mouth aggressively against mine. I was so hard I couldn’t see straight, and her soft body rubbing against me was not making the situation any easier.

“Bad.” I licked a droplet of water off her bottom lip. “Idea.”

“Good idea.”

A frisson of tension spread down my body as I drove my hips against her in search of release.

Her eyes hooded, the slight part of her lips drove me fucking mad as I stepped completely out of her embrace, chest heaving. “I can’t.”

“Nature says otherwise.” She reached for me. I let her because I was weak for her and had been getting progressively weaker where she was concerned.

“Mack.” I bit out her name with a harsh whisper that had my brain telling me how easy it would be to bury myself inside her and take what I’d been wanting since seeing her again.

She dropped her hand, looking crestfallen, from her swollen mouth to her primed, wet body.

I tugged at my hair, then wiped the excess water from my face and took a deep breath, and another, then finally just looked away. “Shower, it was supposed to be a shower.”

“It is a shower.” Her confident, sexy voice was killing me inch by inch. My body was confused as to why it wasn’t already pressed into hers, and my blood throbbed so hard I couldn’t think straight.

“I want . . .” I licked my lips. “No, I need to do this right . . . not in the shower . . .”

Her face lit up. “Does that mean you want me to stop getting wet?” She reached for the knob.

I hung my head and groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me. Stay wet, always stay wet.” I grumbled the last part. “Let’s just . . . wash . . . the Jagger off of you, and then we can go meet your parents.”

She frowned. “How did shower sex go from Jagger to my parents?”

“Easy.” I grabbed some body wash and lathered it up in my hands, then ran it down her shoulders. “I want you smelling like me, not him. And I want to meet the people who gave me you.”