Page 27 of The Last True Hero
"Where were you when I was eighteen?" A man like McClain would have bowled her straight off her feet, and then the entire mess with Jake would never have happened.
He laughed under his breath, his entire chest expanding against hers. "Probably trying to rope an entire town into order."
That was the first she'd heard of that. Mia brushed the backs of her fingers against his nape. His tawny brown hair was cut short, and it prickled her skin.
It had been a long time since she'd touched a man like this.
A long time since she'd wanted to.
And that was when she realized her breasts were pressed flush against him, all soft lushness against the hard planes of his body. Sweat dampened his collar. Suddenly the heat against her skin wasn't simply his body heat. Mia shifted, and he must have felt it for he looked down, just as she looked up.
Those strong arms—as reassuring as they were—weren't what she wanted, right now.
No. She wanted oblivion. Sweet oblivion. To feel and not think a thing at all. Something to fight off all those emotions swarming her. She could barely see in the dark, but she could just make out his lips. Firm lips they were, not the kind of mouth that curved in a smile very often, but still dangerously tempting. And she was so close to breaking that she desperately needed to drive the image of her sister out of her mind before she lost it.
Tilting her mouth to his, Mia slid a hand behind his nape and dragged his face down. Their lips met, hers hungry and ravening; his hesitant.
McClain froze. "Mia."
"Shut up and kiss me," she breathed against his skin.
There was no more resistance. McClain melted against her, capturing her mouth in a gentle caress. She'd expected more, but the simple affection in the touch rocked her, just as much as the sensation of passion did. His hands slid from her arms, down to her waist and back up again. His hesitation vanished as Mia thrust her tongue against his, earning a growl from his throat and a faint, teasing thrust of his hips, as if he couldn't help himself.
Yes. Mia planted both hands in the center of his chest and pushed him against the wall.
Kissing him grounded her, in more ways than one. Not alone. Not right now. She threw herself into it, hands greedy as McClain made a growling protest sound in his throat.
The hard press of his erection dug into her belly and Mia slid her hands between them, wrenching his shirt out of his jeans—
"Christ," he cursed. "Mia... Mia." Capturing her face in his hands, he drew back. Inches separated them, McClain's eyes flashing green in the faint moonlight. Tension knotted his body into a faint rebuke, and Mia hesitated.
"You don't want it?" she whispered. When had that changed? He'd made it clear two days ago that if she wanted a fuck all she had to do was ask.
McClain shuddered, closing his eyes. "Of course I want you. You don't know how damned much." Taking her hand, he dragged it toward him and for a moment she thought he was going to place it over his cock, but he lifted it instead, eyes opening to lock on hers as he pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.
The scrape of his stubble made her palm tingle, but more than that was the look in his eyes... both scorching and tender, the green blaze of his irises softening into regret.
Mia's heart shifted in her chest. She felt utterly breathless. This was more emotion she couldn't deal with right now.
"Not now," he said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "When we come together it's going to be amazing, Mia. But this isn't amazing—this is just using each other for a moment's respite."
"It would still feel good."
Heat flared in his gaze, but he didn't move toward her. "Your sister's missing, and you're upset—"
"I wouldn't regret it," she told him, placing her hand flat against his chest. The steady throb of his heartbeat pulsed against her palm. Mia licked her lips. "You wouldn't be taking advantage of me, McClain. I'm a grown woman with a mind of my own and I'm not afraid to take what I want, when I want it. You and me—"
"You're presuming I want to be some anonymous fuck."
That shocked her.
They regarded each other in silence, the hot rush of blood drowning out every other sound—but for the racing pant of her breath. And his. Mia dragged her hand away from his chest, curling it in a fist in front of her.
"McClain...." She didn't know where to start.
A slightly bitter smile kicked up the corner of his lips. "Exactly."
"You wouldn't have minded two days ago," she told him. "In fact, the shoe was on the other foot then."
