Page 14 of Striking Heat
“No,” I grit out.
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not. It’s just the beer,” I say, although I’m sure I’m not very convincing. “There’s no story here for you tonight, so you can go now. Let us celebrate with people who are actually rooting for us, not against us.”
“I’m not against you, Mac.”
It’s the first time he’s said my name tonight, and it’s not doing anything to dampen the heat that’s been stirring since he came over and put his hands on me.
“Well, you’re certainly not with us,” I reply.
He laughs. I try not to think about how he’s got a great laugh. It’s deep, hearty, and genuine. I hate that I take pleasure in the sounds he makes and his closeness right now.
“Alright, Mac Attack, I’ll let you get back to your teammates.Have a good night.” He taps my shoulder with a single finger, and a chill runs down my spine.
The table is silent for a while after he leaves. They’re all watching me.
“Fuck off, guys,” I say. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Uh-huh” is all Cassidy says. It doesn’t surprise me that she talks first. She’s the one who knows me best and could get away with saying the most shit. No one else dares to say a word.
The bartender, Phil, comes over from the bar, carrying a tray of drinks.
“We didn’t order these,” I reply as he sets down the exact drinks that most of us have polished off.
“That guy over there ordered them for you,” Phil explains. “Enjoy, ladies.” He almost walks away, but he stops and turns to me. “Oh, and Mac, he said to tell you that this is a peace offering. Whatever that means.”
There are a fewoohsfrom the table, and I do my best to ignore the teenage-girl noises that come from my friends.
“Just shut up and drink,” I say, hoping that signals the closing of the topic, and for now, it does.
We enjoy the rest of the night celebrating our win. Meanwhile, I pretend not to notice every time Idonotice Danny watching me. I’m hyper aware of him. I’m not sure when it started, but I hope to god it stops.
Chapter Eight
~MAC~
Ahand wraps around my waist and guides me backward against a hard body. His body feels like stone behind me. Every inch of him is toned and muscular, maybe from all the time he spent training and swimming. I whimper and reach back to run my hand along the small of his back.
“Mac,” he croons in my ear.
I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. The goose bumps take over as I shiver.
Danny brushes his lips down my neck and rests them on my shoulder. His hand comes up and tugs the strap of my camisole down my shoulder. It falls off easily as he places a few kisses on my skin. I arch my back into him, needing him closer, needing him to touch me further. I want his hands all over my body. I’m a ball of want and need and we’ve never even kissed.
There’s a pressure on my hip, and he spins me so I’m facing him. His blue eyes are burning into mine. They look like sapphires shining in the dim lighting of my room. Wasting no time, he roughly throws my body against his. I moan at the contact. His lips come down on mine, biting and nipping until Igrant him access. He takes control of the kiss. There's no softness in it, but I don’t care. I need this.
I whimper into this mouth and claw at his back, trying to get him closer. He backs me up so we’re against my bedroom wall and moves my hands up over my head. Danny pulls back slightly and looks me in the eye. I can’t tell what he’s waiting for—permission or if he’s searching for something.
“Please,” I cry out, hoping that it’s permission that he’s seeking, because he’s got it.
He stares for a moment longer; his eyes are liquid, and his grip is strong on my wrists. It’s biting, but I welcome the pain, along with the pleasure I’m anticipating. Breaking eye contact, he lowers his head to my breast and bites at my nipple through the camisole. I lift my hips, wishing he would provide some much-needed friction.
Instead, he chuckles and places his mouth on the opposite nipple. I’m whimpering and moaning, and all he’s done is suckle and bite on my nipples. I should be embarrassed by this, but I’m not. It’s been a long time since a man has touched me with so much assurance and dominance. I welcome it; I need more of it.
“You are so greedy,” he tells me when I’ve opened my eyes. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to take care of you.”
I just nod. I’m at a loss for words as his hand travels along my hip and slowly dips into my sleep shorts. I jut out my hips, hoping it gets his hand where I need it sooner.
