Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(61)

“For a while.”

“You smell like pine trees.”

His breath quickened, and he froze. “Is that good?”

Standing, she placed both hands on Mac’s arms. His biceps were hard under her touch. The wind blew across his kitchen, bringing the scent of trees and earth into the room.

“Very.” She rested her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to think about the case anymore tonight.”

“I don’t blame you.” His hand settled between her shoulder blades. “You’ve had a hell of a day. You need to take a break, even if it’s just a short one.”

Images of Dena’s body flashed in her head. She raised her eyelids. Mac’s bright-blue eyes studied her. Much better.

Something unfurled inside her. Want. Like a young moth testing new wings, desire opened and closed, indecisive. What did she want? She hadn’t had so much as a date since the shooting the previous November. Her focus had been on her career, and she hadn’t met a man who warranted her attention.

Or once she’d met Mac, she hadn’t met anyone as interesting. He was more than he appeared. Mac was layers of kindness and humor, intelligence and determination, vulnerability and courage. And he sparked a need inside her that could only be described as primitive. With him, she didn’t have to be perfect. She didn’t have to contain anything. She could let go.

Her fingers tightened on the solid flesh under them. “Will I scare you off if I say that I really want you right now?”

Mac coughed. “Sorry. You surprised me.”

She’d surprised herself. She took his hand in hers, turned, and tugged him toward his bedroom. He followed, then paused at the threshold. Her fingers found the top button of her blouse while her eyes roamed over him.

He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorjamb. Worn and soft, his T-shirt and cargos molded to his body. He was lean and hard without an ounce of bulk. She had no doubt he’d earned his body through hiking, climbing, and basic survival in the jungle, not pumping iron at a gym on his lunch hour. Underneath the subtle woodsy cologne, his scent was all male.

“You know I like talking to you. I’m in no rush to sleep with you.” He flushed. “Not that I don’t want you. I do.” His eyes brightened as her fingers lingered on the button. “I really do.” He licked his lips. “But you’ve had a horrific day. If you just need to talk, I can do that.”

His gaze was as hungry as his words were polite. This man was such a study in self-control. Stella suddenly wanted to break it, to make him lose his fist-tight grip on his emotions, to lose himself in her.

She flicked open the button. “I’m finished talking.”





Chapter Twenty-Five


“Are you sure?” Mac couldn’t believe he asked the question. The woman of his dreams was getting naked in his bedroom and he was practically telling her she should reconsider her decision. He was a moron.

“I’m sure.” Stella shook out her hair. It fell around her shoulders in a dark, tousled wave. Hairpins dropped to the floor.

“You’re positive I’m not just a distraction?” Damn his conscience. And ego.

In the past, he wouldn’t have cared. He would have been happy to provide the release of her pent-up frustration. If she hadn’t wanted to see him again, he wouldn’t have cared.

But this was Stella, literally the woman of his dreams. The first woman he craved conversation with as much as sex.

Who would have thought that would ever happen? Not him.

It was a freaking miracle.

And yet it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t satisfied being with her simply because his body ached for her. This thing between them had to be equal. He wanted Stella to need him just as much as he needed her. If he was going to let himself be vulnerable, to give her power over him, then she had to do the same.

He wanted her pulse to thud in her ears like a bass drum. Her blood to rush as hot as lava through her veins. For every cell in her body to yearn for him. He wanted to be the man she chose above all others.

She opened the second button on her blouse.

Enough with the biology lesson, Mac. Woman getting naked here.

Mesmerized, Mac stared as she flicked a third button, then a fourth. The fabric parted, revealing the swell of her breasts. He licked his lips, dying for a taste of that smooth skin.

Button number five.

White satin and lace. That’s what she’d been hiding under that up-tight, mannish blouse. All. Day. Long. Hell, she probably wore sexy, feminine silk against her skin all the time.

Any blood remaining in Mac’s brain flowed south with the power of the Amazon.

She stood for a minute, letting him look. Breasts swelled over white lace. Flat abs tempted him to lick his way . . .

She moved on to her cuffs, seemingly content to continue her striptease, but Mac couldn’t wait any longer. He was going to implode if he didn’t get his hands on her. In two steps, he was standing in front of her, their bodies inches apart. The animal in him wanted to strip off her pants, hoist her legs around his waist, and take her against the wall right that second.

Finesse.

He wasn’t one of the beasts he studied in the jungle, but his desire for Stella stripped him raw. Still, the woman deserved a little consideration.

“Let me help.” He slid the cotton off her shoulders, putting his lips to the creamy white skin of her collarbone. She arched back, her head lolling to the side as he brushed his lips up the side of her neck.