Page 15 of Flashpoint Feelings

“You make me feel safe,” she finally admits. “Not because I need protecting, but because you see me. Really see me.”

My throat tightens with emotion. “Back at you, darling.”

She doesn’t protest my use of a nickname, and the omission is more revealing than anything she could say. And makes me more determined than ever to find a way to be with her. Though we’re in an impossible situation, my heart feels lighter than it has in days. We sure as hell have solved nothing, but at least, now, we’re both acknowledging there’s something here worth figuring out.

Even if we have to keep our distance while we do it.

But as the therapists exit quietly and Maya lifts onto her forearms to look over at me, the curve of her bare breast pressed against the table melts my resolve faster than wax under a blowtorch. Especially when her gaze slides to the towel covering my ass and her lips curl into a saucy half-smile that makes me want to break every regulation in the department handbook.

“But surely,” she says, “one time, just to get it out of our systems wouldn’t hurt.”

Chapter nine

Maya

People who truly know me would never describe me as a rule breaker. But as Mack presses the keycard to the lock on the hotel room door and the little light flashes green, I embrace the identity, at least for tonight. Mack knew better than I did how badly my body needed a massage, and now, it’s more relaxed than it’s been in years. It’s also humming with an aching need only this man can satisfy.

“Ready?” he murmurs, pocketing the key, his molten green gaze pinned on me.

One and done, that’s the agreement we forged minutes ago. And right now, I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Don’t want to consider the ramifications of sleeping with Mack. For once, I want to live completely in the moment. To not do the safe, predictable thing.

“I’m always ready,” I reply with a sassy smile as I reach for the door handle.

But his hand flies to mine, covering it and stilling the motion. I look up to find one of his wicked grins curling up the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Without warning, he bends down and, using one arm, scoops around my knees, lifting me easily and tossing my hips over his shoulder, my ass high in the air.

“Mack!” I protest, laughter bubbling up from my chest as I grab hold of his belt for support. The brute. “Put me down.”

He ignores my demands, kicking the door shut behind him as we enter the room.

“With pleasure,” he growls, flipping on a light and heading straight for the bed. On the way there, he tugs off my shoes one at a time, dropping them to the floor. Once he’s standing next to the king bed, Mack leans forward. I think he’s going to toss me like a sack of potatoes onto the mattress. Instead, he keeps his hands firmly on my body, holding me tight against him, and guides me down the front of his towering frame one heavenly inch at a time.

When my bare feet hit the mattress, I straighten, and for once, I’m taller than him, if only by a few inches. “I like the view from up here,” I murmur, gazing down at him, my arms wrapped around his thick neck.

“Me, too.” He sinks his face against my shirt, between my breasts.

My nipples harden, and a shiver of anticipation shoots to my core. I hold him to me, my fingers working through his unruly red hair. But I barely have time to think before he draws back enough to reach for the bottom of my shirt. “You look gorgeous tonight, sweetheart. But nothing’s going to stop me from getting you naked.”

Before I know it, my shirt is on the floor and my bra is undone, Mack’s calloused fingers sliding the straps over my shoulders. I automatically cross my arms to cover my bare breasts, knowing how small they are compared to most of the women he’s probably been with.

As if he can read my mind, Mack leans forward to nuzzle beneath my forearm, nudging it aside.

“You’re perfect, love,” he murmurs as his mouth finds my nipple, drawing it deep into his warm mouth.

Love?Surely, the endearment slipped out accidentally. Surely, he didn’t mean it. But as Mack’s hands stroke languidly down my bare back, still slick from the massage oil, it feels as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held. And once again, without even trying, this man is stealing under my walls and crushing my defenses.

A moan escapes my lips, and when he shifts to the other breast, nibbling gently, I’m forced to grip his shoulders for balance, my breath coming hard and fast. But he’s there, rooted beneath my fingers, supporting me, as he always is. Mack’s presence is overwhelming my senses, short-circuiting the synapses firing in my brain. He’s so big and strong and steady and safe, but a fissure of concern knots my stomach because what’s happening here, between us tonight, is more than physical. It’s confirmation I want to be the woman in his arms. Always.

But I can’t.

A laugh rumbles out of him against my sensitive skin when I abandon his shoulders to drop to my knees and tug at his shirt, eager to satisfy the desire that’s thrummed in my body since I walked into the station that afternoon and spotted him, and that breathtaking grin, across the bay.

He lets me drag his shirt over his head, but before I can explore, his gigantic hands grab my waist and toss me back on the bed. I gasp but can’t catch my breath because Mack climbs over me, filling my entire view. And it’s glorious. Red curls sprinkle across his chest and trail south down abs that ripple like the reinforced panels of turnout gear. His biceps are flexed as he peers down at me, his gaze no longer teasing, his green irisesbarely visible around dilated pupils, leaving no doubt how much he wants me.

Which he proves by kissing me as if his life depends on it. Unlike the desperate kiss in the elevator, this one starts achingly slow as if he’s memorizing every sensation. Mack’s lips brush mine with a reverence that makes my heart stutter, each gentle touch building the tension in my core like a slow-burning fuse. I trace my fingers up and down the planes of his back as his tongue teases the seam of my lips, asking permission rather than demanding it. And when I open to him, he groans, the sound vibrating through me, the hair on his chest rubbing against my nipples.

Our tongues tangle, and I’m lost in the taste of him. He adjusts the angle of his head, deepening the kiss as he simultaneously presses his knee, tucked between my legs, up against my core. I grind against it, my panties soaked as I search for friction against his denim clad quad, my ass lifting off the bed as my primal instincts take over.

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