"What's your hurry?" he asked softly, breathlessly. Though he couldn't begin to imagine why he should feel breathless after such a short, quick sprint. Then he looked down at Mack's face and knew exactly why. And what little breath was left him evaporated completely.
She had slipped off her glasses at some point during the evening—an action whose significance Adam decided not to ponder just now—and her eyes seemed brighter, even greener, thanks to the spill of light from the street lamp behind them. Her lips, plump and dewy and oh-so-sexy, were parted softly, though whether in surprise or for some other reason he chose not to contemplate. And her hair, those fiery tresses that had danced about her shoulders all night, just begging for a man's touch, danced about her shoulders now, just begging for a man's touch.
How could he resist?
Lifting a hand gingerly to her shoulder, he captured one errant coppery curl and twined it around his forefinger, twisting slowly, leisurely, deliberately. As he completed the gesture, his hand drew nearer her face, and his other fingers skimmed lightly over the elegant line of her jaw. Mack gasped softly at the contact, opening her eyes wider, parting her lips more. And then, without thinking, without questioning, Adam dipped his head toward hers and claimed her mouth with his.
Fire flashed in his belly when he tasted her for the first time and he savored the mingling essences of wine and woman. Wanting more, he stepped forward and closed what little distance still lay between them. The hand he'd caught in her hair framed her face just as easily, and he tipped her head back some, so that he could plunder her mouth at will. At the same time, he slipped his other hand around her waist, splaying it open at the small of her back to push her gently forward into his embrace.
For just the briefest of moments, she stiffened, doubling her fists loosely against his chest. But she made no effort to push him away. And then, without warning, she melted into him, curving one hand over his shoulder, threading the fingers of her other slowly through his hair. Tightening his arm around her waist, Adam pulled her upward, closer to himself. He buried his face in the delicate curve where her neck joined her shoulder, nuzzling the soft, fragrant skin he encountered there. She sighed, murmuring a feather-light sound of contentment, then tilted her head back even more. When she did, he felt the ends of her hair brush over the hand he held at her back, a sensation that was surprisingly arousing.
She smelled incredible, a heavy, heady, intoxicating scent that seemed both perfectly suitable and entirely inappropriate for her. It tempted him, lulled him, drew him closer still. Nosing aside the wide neck of her sweater, he pressed his lips to her throat, dragging light, open-mouthed kisses up and down the slender column before running the tip of his tongue along her collarbone.
She murmured another low, provocative sound and crowded her body closer to his, and his heart hammered wildly at the gentle thrust and fluid motion of her soft breasts against his chest. The hand he had pressed to her back fell to the curve of her bottom, and he pushed her forward, upward, rubbing her belly languidly against the swollen, heavy hardness that swelled urgently against his trousers.
A torrent of desire flooded him as their bodies met, and a ballast of need rocked him. And for one very brief, very scary moment, Adam thought he might never recover.
Too far, too soon , he thought. Way, way, too far. Way, way, too soon.
Somehow, he rallied his resources to retreat, but not by much. He nuzzled her neck again, more slowly, less urgently this time, then looped his arms loosely around her waist and tucked her head beneath his chin. Mack clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing erratically, her entire body trembling. Somehow, he sensed she was reluctant to look at him. And he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.
For one long moment, Adam only held her in silence, wondering what the hell had just happened. Gradually, he managed to will his own heart rate to settle, and slowly, he goaded his libido into submission. Eventually, Mack lifted her head from his shoulder, but she didn't pull herself away. Nor did she look up to meet his gaze. Instead, she focused her attention on his chest, and idly—nervously—fingered the lapels of his jacket.
But she didn't say a word.
So Adam spoke instead. Sort of. "You're, um…" Finding that particular effort a bit difficult to manage, he cleared his throat and tried again. "This is just a shot in the dark, but… You're not … married, are you?"
Mack expelled a single humorless chuckle, then glanced up at him for the merest of moments before looking away again. Nevertheless, it was time enough for him to see that she was a little dazed and a lot confused. Maybe even as confused as he was himself.
"Gosh, figured that out all by yourself, did you?" she replied quietly. She shook her head slowly. "No, I'm not married," she added. "I wear a wedding ring at Drake's to keep the members from hitting on me, that's all."
He nodded, even though he wasn't sure he understood or approved of the deception. "Ever been married?" he asked further.
She gazed out at the dark street and shook her head again. "No."
"There's no Dave the bulldozer operator?"
"No."
"No one at all?"
This time she hesitated before replying. And she continued to avoid his gaze.
So Adam clarified his question. "No one special who fills your head during the day and your bed at night?"
She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment, then opened them again. Very, very slowly, she looked up to meet his gaze. "There's no one in my bed at night, no."
Suggesting that there was someone
