Page 78 of Protecting What's Mine
Obligingly, she yanked her tank over her head and threw it over his shoulder.
“God bless America,” he breathed before diving back into the kiss.
She snickered into his mouth. “Is that the swoony firefighter version of dirty talk?”
“Baby, I want to take my cock out and shove you to your knees. I want to put my hands on this wall and fuck your mouth until your eyes water. When I’m done with you, I want eye makeup and lipstick everywhere.”
Her eyes widened. Then she smiled. A sharp, shark-like grin.
“That’s better,” she whispered and shoved her hand into his shorts.
He was going to die on his feet with a beautiful woman gripping his cock. Linc hoped they’d put that on his tombstone.
“For the love of God, woman, slow down.”
“Nope.” She brushed her thumb over the unfairly sensitive head of his dick that was leaking like a fucking sieve. “I want to see you on your knees, looking up at me while you taste me.”
Yep. Dead.
“I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.” His confession on a groan, a breath, a prayer ruined everything.
Just like that, the fearless flight physician lost her nerve. He felt her stiffen up, muscles going to concrete. Spine tensing to steel.
Her hand released him, the waistband of his shorts snapping back in an insult to his erection. He winced but didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, trying to wriggle out of his arms. “I just don’t feel like doing this right now.”
“You’re afraid.” He stated the truth, simply and without malice.
She reacted as if he’d struck her. A button pushed.
Mack’s lip curled in a sneer. But he saw it. That glimmer of fear in those green eyes. The shadows accentuated the scar.
“I am not afraid.”
She enunciated each word crisply. And he wondered if she thought that would make it true.
“We’re both attracted to each other. Both unattached. Both interested. But something’s holding you back, and I think that something is fear.”
“You start spewing things like that, and it’s a real mood killer, Hotshot.”
He could feel the connection they had, their bodies pressed against each other, heartbeats racing. He wasn’t misreading signs, making things up. Shewantedhim. Hecravedher. But that black smoke made an impenetrable wall between them.
“What’s wrong with being honest, Dreamy?”
“Back off, Hotshot,” she said, shoving a hand between them.
Understanding fear, he gave her space. He took a seat on the weight bench she’d vacated. He wasn’t running from this.
“Talk to me, Mackenzie. Tell me what this is about.”
“What do you want to hear?” she demanded, picking her shirt up off the floor.
He mourned the loss of her streamlined raspberry sports bra. That view of the stomach he wanted to lick, to bite, to jet his release on, to lay his head on.
“I thought I’d made that clear. I want you.”
