Page 55 of Protecting What's Mine
“Oh, boy. Okay.” She slid her hands between them and pressed lightly against his chest. Enough to stop, not enough to part.
Her lips were swollen and rosy. Her hair that he didn’t remember shoving his hand into was a disheveled tangle. Those high cheekbones wore the faint blush of excitement. And her eyes danced with arousal.
No regrets.
“That’s going to give me a lot to think about,” she said, pushing him back a millimeter.
He could still taste her on his lips.
“The offer still stands, Dreamy.” He reached down and clasped her hand. Those green eyes, so serious now, watched as he lifted it to his mouth.
“No strings? No expectations? No complications?” she asked.
“No-expectations, monogamous fun,” he said.
She gave him a nod and slid behind the wheel. “Why not platonic fun?”
“Honey, I think that kiss already answered that question.”
She looked ahead through the windshield. “I’ll think about your offer.”
So would he. He shut the door for her and tapped the roof with a hand that seconds before had coasted over her body.
Mack drove off, leaving him watching her go.
“This is gonna get complicated,” he sighed to himself.
18
Mack let herself in the back door of the clinic. She’d slept like crap last night. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Linc’s mouth on hers and then spent the next several minutes fantasizing about having it everywhere else.
She’d snap out of it, long enough to carefully weigh every pro and con of letting him get past first base. Then, as soon as her eyes closed again, the delicious cycle started fresh.
She hoped to God the man had at least suffered through a cold shower.
“Good morning, Dr. O’Neil,” Russell, wearing a violet Oxford shirt and eggplant tie under his white coat, greeted her at the front desk. His cognac-colored loafers gleamed under the sharp pleat of his trousers.
He nudged a to-go cup in her direction. “Green tea with lemon.”
Tuesday and Freida exchanged smug looks. The friendly balance of the office had been restored.
“Thank you. Good morning,” she said, accepting the cup. “How was everyone’s night?”
Small talk.See? She could do this. She could push aside dirty, naked thoughts about a sexy firefighter. She could dust off social skills.
“I hit up a cycling class and then grabbed smoothies with my brother so he could tell me about his new boyfriend that he met at the gym. Then my boyfriend and I had a nice, quiet night in,” Tuesday said perkily.
Mack felt relatively certain that “quiet night in” was the girl’s code for Netflix and chill.
“My husband did the laundry. That beautiful, beautiful man,” Freida said dreamily and shot them all spirit fingers.
Okay. So Tuesday and Freida got laid. Fine. People in relationships had sex.
“My wife surprised me by coming home early for a long weekend,” Russell said. His tone was light, friendly even, but Mack saw the residual gleam of tasteful, polished, married sex in his brown eyes.
Dammit.
She imagined a tumbleweed rolling through her vagina.
