Page 57 of Anchor Point

The smirk that played on his lips.

He shifted, causing a ripple effect on his abs. The sound in the back of my throat was involuntary. If a man, any man, but especially this man, wanted to turn a woman on, all he had to do was exactly what Mac was doing.

His pose was relaxed and casual, but the message in his gaze was pure seduction.

“Rough day?” His gravelly voice was deeper, more intimate. And despite how I normally tried to hold things together, in this moment, I wanted to sink between his legs on the couch and rest my head on his chest and just let him hold me.

As it was, all I could do was nod.

He swung his legs around in a slick move that brought him to sitting and held out a hand to me. “Come here.”

I stumbled over and stood stupidly, waiting on his next direction.

He scooted over, patting the couch. “Sit.”

I did, and he reached down, taking my ankle in his large, warm hand, spinning me so that I had no choice but to recline in the warm space he’d left.

His thumb pressed into the arch of my foot as he began to massage. A deep moan of satisfaction rose involuntarily.

In all the years I’d been married, Tim had never rubbed my feet for me, but it was probably the most caring thing a person could do for another. At this moment it was, anyway.

I closed my eyes in bliss as Mac rubbed one foot, then placed it gently in his lap and began on the other. When I was suitably relaxed, the massage inched up toward my ankles. Then my calves. I immediately tensed at his touch.

“Relax, Olivia. You don’t have to be in charge here.” Mac’s low voice washed over me and settled right between my legs. “You don’t have to think. You don’t have to do anything, except let me take care of you.”

I took his advice. When thoughts of the day tried to creep in, it was Mac’s hands that I focused on. His comfy couch supporting me, his presence calming me. The evening was warm, the house quiet.

Eventually, the day’s worries drained away, replaced by a new thought.

“Why the change of heart?” The question came out soft, so soft I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.

Mac continued his assault on the muscles in my legs. “Change of heart?”

I twitched as he hit a tight spot on my calf. Immediately, his hands were there, gentler but still firm. And so warm. As if his body heat were seeping into mine through his fingertips.

“Yeah, last weekend you called me tense and basically rejected me.” My tone was teasing, but only to hide the scary truth. His rejection had hurt.

“Liv, I didn’t reject you. Trust me. I want nothing more than to be right here with you, with my hands on you. Even if it’s to soothe tired legs after a long day. I’ve been avoiding you all week because I was afraid I couldn’t control myself.”

Oh.

Oh.

His hands made a long sweep from my knee to my ankle.

“Besides,” he continued, “you were the one who walked away.”

Something in those words struck a chord, and I realized that I’d hurt his feelings as well. My eyes shot up to his face to find his eyes glued to where his hands warmed my skin.

“Sometimes I’m too cold and closed off for my own good,” I admitted.

Another long sweep, this one deeper, slower, hitting all the little muscles of my calves. I groaned in pleasure.

“Who told you that?”

As focused as I was on what his hands were doing, I didn’t even stop to weigh my words. “Tim called me frigid. You struck a nerve when you called me tense.”

“So we’re both in the wrong,” he pointed out. I began to nod, but he continued, “What I can’t figure out, is what he meant by that.”

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