SpiceMeUp by Renee Field Page B

Mack’s
heart. Shit, maybe I’ve messed up big-time.
    “What do you have in mind?” asked Mack,
flicking on the small electronic candle on his side table. His fingers by this
time had tweaked both her nipples into tight points. More than anything he
longed for her to lean closer so he could suckle her senseless. Mack debated
taking matters into his own hands to flip her over on the bed so he could have
his wicked way with her. He groaned with longing when she finally placed both
hands flat on his chest. She was now panting with desire and her cheeks had
taken on that cute pink flush they did when passion reared its head. He yearned
to sink a finger inside her to see if she was as wet as he anticipated. As a
cop he’d been told often his skill was listening to people, and if there was
one thing Mack realized, his wife was broadcasting a silent protest that said
she was pissed at him.
    “Well, can tonight just be about touching and no kissing and
no—”
    “No sex.” God, just saying the word made him ache.
    “It’s just an experiment, Mack. Tomorrow we’ll move to
something different.”
    “Like sex,” he said, moving a hand to claim his wife’s ass.
    She laughed and then said, “Maybe.”
    “Tasha, this is our one weekend without the kids. I’m dying
for sex.”
    She leaned over him, her ample breasts all but begging for
his mouth. An inch more and they’d be his.
    “Me too, but like the author said, anticipation will make it
all the better.”
    “So let me understand this. Tonight we get to touch. Am I
allowed to make you come?”
    “Nope. Just touching and then tomorrow we’ll move it to the
next level. You game?”
    “Oh, honey, let the games begin,” said Mack. Sweet anticipation
curled hot and hard through him, because if Mack knew one thing, it was how to
make the best of any game.
     
    Sawyer hoped to hell his friend had gotten his text. The bus
he’d been planning to take from the Halifax Airport to Cape Breton had broken
down and wouldn’t be ready until Monday. That meant he had a weekend to kill in
Halifax and Mack, his longtime buddy, had always said to drop by anytime.
Sawyer had been thrilled he’d been able to hitch a ride from the airport thanks
to a friendly driver, which meant at 7 a.m. he was at his friend’s door. He was
about to ring the bell when two things happened at once—the door opened and the
woman wearing the sexy-as-hell black teddy, which barely concealed her assets,
jumped into his arms.
    “Sawyer, it’s sooo good to see you.” Tasha hugged him
a little tighter than he remembered, not that he minded as she pressed her
breasts against his chest. She smelled of warm coffee and light perfume and he
had to remind himself Mack was the one who’d married Tasha and not him.
    “Ah, good to see you too, Tasha. Is Mack home?”
    “Oh, silly me. Come in. Yup, he’s in the shower. I planned
to make more coffee. Come in. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face
when he sees you. I’m so glad you stopped by.”
    The way Tasha looked at him made Sawyer feel a bit like a
schoolboy. And why the hell isn’t she running to get an ugly housecoat or
something to cover up?
    “I’m on leave for two weeks and thought I’d
visit the old homestead in Cape Breton but the bus broke down and I’m stuck
until Monday.”
    “You’re not stuck at all. You can stay with us. It’s perfect
timing. My mom came yesterday to take the boys for the weekend and I’m a little
at loose ends.”
    “Tasha, are you now talking to yourself?” said Mack, walking
into the kitchen wearing only his jeans. His hair was wet but the smile
greeting Sawyer felt like old times. “Sweet Jesus, look what the cat dragged
in.”
     
    Tasha watched Mack embrace Sawyer like a long-lost brother
and a daring plan she’d thought of more than once since she’d known the two
handsome men began to hatch. Thinking it and voicing her desires though were
two different things.
    “Sawyer’s going to stay