Messing With Mac by Jill Shalvis

yourself.”
    Mac stood in the doorway of her bare living room.
    He wore jeans that had seen better days. They were faded, torn at both knees and one hard thigh. The soft denim fit him perfectly, outlining every nuance of his lower body. His T-shirt had come untucked on one side, caught on the tool belt slung low on his hips, exposing a strip of flat, rigid belly.
    Her own tightened uncomfortably in response. “I am pleased with myself.” Having caught her breath, she hoisted up the small desk again.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œJust something I picked up. Do you like it?”
    He eyed her slowly up and down. “Very much.”
    â€œI meant the desk.”
    â€œOh.”
    Since she’d been wanting him to say he stillwanted her, she felt herself flush with excitement. “It’s circa 1920, isn’t it a darling?”
    â€œIt’d be more darling in your storage unit.” But he took the desk from her, making it look like a toy in his arms as he strode across the living room toward her bedroom.
    The bedroom was a good size, but he dwarfed it, and as she followed him in, she became painfully aware of the fact that the only other piece of furniture in the room was her bed, pushed to the middle of the room with a drop cloth on the floor beside it, which she put over it during the day.
    â€œPaint fumes are going to be bad this week,” he said. “No problem.”
    â€œThe noise and dust—”
    â€œIt’s no problem,” she repeated, watching the muscles in his jaw bunch as if he was incredibly tense. Why was that? If he wanted her half as badly as she wanted him, well, then, that was his own damn fault.
    â€œI heard Nicole and Suzanne offer you a place to stay—”
    She held up a hand and forced a cool smile, tired of battering down his defenses every time they spoke. “I’m staying here.”
    â€œLook, Princess, what I’m trying to say is that this place isn’t going to be up to your standards.”
    She laughed. “It’s never been ‘up to my standards.’ That’s the whole point of the renovation.”
    â€œI just think you should go until we’re done.”
    She stared at him when he turned to face her, wondering where this was coming from now, after all this time. Was he starting to feel the pressure, like she was, of being together day in and out? Was he, like her, aching for more? “You just don’t want me under your feet.”
    He closed his eyes, then opened them. “The problem is not about not wanting you beneath my feet, but about wanting you beneath me. Period.”
    An immediate hot current raced through her body. “Why do you do that?” she whispered, her knees wobbly, her pulse rocketing wildly, and all from a look and a few words.
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œRemind me in every word, in every look, that we have this…this…”
    â€œHard to put a finger on it, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt’s an attraction,” she said bluntly. “And for someone who claims not to want it, you sure bring it up a lot.”
    â€œI never claimed not to want it, Princess.” He stepped closer, so close she could feel his breathwarm her cheek. Then his fingers did the same as he stroked them over her skin. “It’s just that what we each want are two different things entirely.”
    â€œHow do you know?” She met his hot gaze. “When you won’t discuss it?”
    â€œYou want me to discuss it? Fine. I want you in that bed for one entire night—” He pointed to it. “I want you there, beneath me, legs and arms spread wide, head tossed back, screaming my name as I touch, kiss, lick and suck every inch of you. I want to sink into your body and lose myself. I want that so badly I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t do any damn thing. Any questions?”
    Questions? She couldn’t remember, she was so lost in the image