“That dress looks like Lavender.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Girlie and sexy. You do it justice.” His sexy smile hit her in her most vulnerable places.
“You think I’m sexy?”
“Honey, you are smokin’ hot.”
Mac grinned at him, feeling naughty. “I’m not wearing underwear.”
Bruiser swallowed and cleared his throat. “None?” he croaked. His gaze fell to her chest, where her nipples were showing off for him.
“None.”
That crooked smile of his made another appearance. “What if I told you I wasn’t either?”
“You aren’t?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll need to find out for yourself.” He stalked toward her, and she slipped away from him just as he reached for her. With a half scream, half laugh, she skirted around the couch away from him.
“Awww, so this is how it’s going to be.” He sprinted for her, careening around the couch like a man used to running and dodging for a living.
Mac faked one way then leaped the other, but Bruiser wasn’t fooled in the least. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm and tossed her onto the couch, shocking her with his brute strength. She shouldn’t have been surprised, not with the way he ripped through defensive lines as if they were a peewee football team.
He straddled her and grabbed her hands in one of his big hands, holding them over her head. “Don’t mess with the master, darlin’. You don’t stand a chance.”
“Maybe I don’t want to stand a chance. Maybe I—”
“Too much talking.” He bent down and covered her mouth with his mouth while his stubble scraped across her chin and cheeks. She didn’t care one damn bit. Instead, she wriggled under him, pressing her hips against his, rubbing up and down, needing to know she could make him as crazy as he made her. And judging by his reaction, she did.
Payback was a bitch, and Bruiser’s mouth laid waste to every shred of rational thought as his lips journeyed down her neck. He nibbled on her collarbone with little bites all along the sensitive skin. With his free hand, he yanked down the stretchy bodice of her dress, freeing her breasts.
Mac froze, worried she might be too small for his taste, but his sharp intake of breath and a slow shudder dispelled those doubts. His eyes drank her in like an alcoholic during last call in a bar on Saturday night. “You’re beautiful,” he said with such reverence, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so admired.
He bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue while he plucked the other nipple with his fingers. Mac whimpered as Bruiser sucked, sucked harder, released, sucked again.
Their eyes met, and he smiled. Not one of his practiced seductive smiles, but a warm, genuine smile that said he was enjoying himself and her. He sucked on her nipples until they were sensitive and sore—a good sore.
Bruiser sat back, released her hands, and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside. It was Mac’s turn to gasp. She’d seen him shirtless before plenty of times, but not up close and personal, not within touching distance. And touch him she did, running her fingers across the ridges of his hard, well-defined abs, up to his firm pecs, and around his broad, muscular shoulders. God, he felt good, like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.
He sucked in a breath as she stroked his muscles, giving her confidence that he needed her touch as much as she needed his. Then he lifted himself off her and shucked his pants in one practiced motion—he was commando—like he’d done this a million times, most likely with countless women.
Mac pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on Bruiser with his incredible body. Bruiser with the laughing blue eyes and devil-may-care attitude. Bruiser, the guy who lived life to its fullest yet carried a painful secret. Despite the women he’d been with in the past, tonight he was hers and hers alone. She might never get this opportunity again, and she’d damn well take advantage of it.
Judging by the campfire blazing in Bruiser’s eyes, he felt the same. “I fucking want you. Bad. I’ve been thinking about this since I picked you up that evening for the barbecue.” He fished a condom out of his pants pocket, ripped it open with his teeth, and sheathed his magnificent cock faster than it took Tyler Harris to throw a ball downfield.
The barbecue? As much as she tried to convince herself that Bruiser was attracted to the real her, the reality stung. He’d never paid one bit of attention to her until she’d worn a slinky dress, revealed some leg and boobs, and all in all made him see her as a woman. She wanted to be a woman for him, but she also wanted to be more than someone he took at face value.
Bruiser plunked his fine naked ass on the couch next to her, and Mac threw her self-pity out the window. Tonight was about the physical, nothing else—the pure physical pleasure of two bodies doing what nature designed.
And nature had definitely designed Bruiser’s body for sex.
Mac pulled her skirt up to her waist, rewarded by Bruiser’s slow grin. The couch cushion dipped as he turned his body toward her, threw a leg over her thighs, and straddled her again, his usually laughing eyes deadly serious and intense, the sexiest thing in the world to see. His impressive erection rubbed against her stomach. She ran her hands up his forearms and clutched his hard biceps.
He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. The veins stood out on his neck, and his magnificent body shuddered. “I can’t last through much foreplay.”
“Just watching you all night was foreplay.”
“Are you telling me you’re primed and ready for action?”
“Like a well-tuned machine.”
“Honey, you’re no machine. You’re one-hundred-percent American woman in every sense of the word. Tough. Sensitive. Driven. And passionate.” His eyes rolled back in his head, as she gripped his dick and squeezed, guiding him toward
