Page 6 of The Games We Play
Mac stood a few feet away, the hay chute door cracked open just enough to let in a sliver of moonlight, casting a faint glowacross his face. That damn smirk of his hadn’t wavered, and despite myself, I found my lips curving into one of my own.
I made one tentative step forward, but he didn’t move.
We were stuck in this push and pull, a slow-burning game of tension while our friends partied below, completely unaware.
“I needed to get you away,” Mac finally said, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and fishing a lighter from his pocket.
I stayed rooted in place, so he made the next move, walking past me to a bale of hay before sinking onto it with ease.
Click. Click.
The flame flickered, catching the tip of his cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the end glowing red-hot, before exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the air.
On anyone else, smoking wasn’t my type. But Mac? He made it look irresistible.
Deciding to join, I plopped down on the hay beside him, sending a few stray pieces tumbling to the floor.
“And why is that?” I asked, tilting my head as his gaze roamed over me, starting at my heels, trailing up my body, lingering on the cat ears perched on my head. The slow perusal sent heat licking up my spine, my skin prickling in the best way possible.
“Selfish reasons,” he admitted, smirking as he took another drag, the smoke curling from his lips like a secret I desperately wanted to know.
I arched a brow. “You do know an open flame around dry hay probably isn’t the smartest idea, right?”
Mac shrugged and pulled a makeshift ashtray from his inside pocket—an empty beer can with the top cut off. “It’ll be fine.” He flicked the cigarette, embers cascading into the bottom with a softhiss.
The hum of music from below felt distant up here, dulled by the quiet tension stretching between us. More space for conversation. More room for whatever the hell he meant byselfish reasons.
“Are you going to elaborate on those reasons,” I asked, shifting to face him fully, resting an arm on the back of the hay bale, “or leave a woman guessing?”
Mac chuckled, his gaze darkening as he adjusted his position, closing the space between us.
We were already too close, and yet my body hummed for him to be closer.
“Maybe,” he murmured, holding the cigarette between his fingers as he reached toward me, his thumb brushing my cheek. The flame hovered dangerously close, yet I didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.
“I saw an opportunity to spend some more time with you. One-on-one.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Without prying eyes.”
My pulse fluttered. “And what exactly are your plans for this one-on-one time?” I asked, inching closer, just enough to test him.
His hand fell away, but his gaze never left mine. I tracked the flicker of something dark and unreadable in his eyes before my attention dipped for a second to his mouth. As if sensing it, his tongue darted out, dragging across his bottom lip.
I swallowed hard.
Mac took another slow drag, then dropped the cigarette into the can, watching as it sizzled out, tendrils of smoke curling into the air.
Then, without warning, his hands found my waist.
One firm squeeze—then he grabbed hold and yanked me onto his lap.
A startled breath left my lips, but my body moved instinctively, legs landing on either side of him.
I rose slightly, knees digging into the hay bale as I glared down, hands planted firmly on his shoulders. His grip stayed locked on my waist, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
“Something like this,” he whispered, one hand sliding up to tangle in my hair, pulling me in just enough to bring my face closer to his.
We lingered there, breaths mingling, heat crackling between us. I let my eyes slip shut, feeling his fingers tighten against my skin like he was barely holding himself back.
I wassoclose—close enough that my body ached for it and heat pooled deep in my stomach.
