After giving himself points for his keen power of observation, he snaked his hand beneath the hem of her dress. He connected with warm bare skin.
She hissed in a breath. “Oh my God. You can’t do that here.”
“Sure, I can.” To prove the point, he slipped one digit beneath her underwear and kept going until he reached the heat of her core.
“But—” Lydia never finished her sentence. Instead, her complaint dissolved into a tiny noise of what could only be described as satisfaction.
“You were saying?” He should keep his mouth closed, but teasing her was too fun. So was torturing her with the orgasm he knew wasn’t going to take too long to achieve.
“Shut up.” Her breathless command had him smiling.
“Yes, ma’am.” He had better things to do with his mouth anyway, like work her earlobe until she sagged against him.
She was reduced to a trembling, panting, beautiful mess in mere minutes. He used his free hand to keep her pressed against him so she wouldn’t collapse.
Hell, who was he kidding? He kept her against him because damn she felt good against his cock, even with clothes between them.
Her cries got louder. Too loud. He shushed her quietly, gently. Other than that he let her soar, more than happy with the knowledge it was completely his doing.
Finally, he eased up on her. Any longer and he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He’d have his pants open and be plunging into her right there against the sink. During that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to listen for daddy and step mommy, let alone get Lydia’s and his own clothes righted before they were discovered.
Wanting her and not being able to have her was its own kind of exquisite torture, but a man could only take so much.
He’d have her later. There was no doubt in his mind about that.
Easing his hand out of her underwear, he leaned his head against hers. “Come back to my place tonight.”
She flipped off the water and then turned in his arms. Her color was high. Her eyes bright. There was nothing more beautiful than a woman after she came.
Still recovering her breath, she glanced at the doorway behind him, before meeting his eyes. Finally, she said, “Okay.”
“Good.”
He’d worry about everything tomorrow. His apparent addiction to this woman. The fact that even if he wanted to walk away from this and not look back, he couldn’t now that they were connected by family.
He’d managed to forget that one little detail while his hands had been all over her, but it made this whole thing far more complicated.
He didn’t usually do complicated. His job made his life complicated enough.
Then again, he didn’t usually do overnights or repeats either, but here he was inviting her back to his place two nights in a row.
It seemed quite a few things were different this time.
What was done, was done. He might as well roll with it and see where things ended up.
Looking at her now, still shaky from his touch, he knew one thing. It was going to be a hell of a ride for however long it lasted.
“How are you two doing in there?” Laurie’s question came from a way down the hall.
With his lips twitching with a smile, Mack asked Lydia. “How are we doing?”
She twisted her mouth into an annoyed looking expression, before she leaned past Mack. “Fine, Mom.”
Mack smiled full out when she leaned back and leveled a glare at him.
“Glad you thought so, though I’d say you were doing better than just fine judging by what I heard and felt.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I—”
“Do you need help?” Her mother’s distant words interrupted whatever Lydia had been about to say. Apparently Laurie wasn’t happy not being a part of the clean up in the kitchen.
“No. We’re good. Stay in the living room with Joseph and relax. We’ll be there in a minute.” Lydia’s panicked response to her mother’s offer had Mack laughing.
“Afraid Mommy will take one look at you and recognize that post-orgasmic glow?”
“Uck. Don’t talk about sex and my mother.” Lydia spun to face the sink, this time actually doing as they were supposed to have been this whole time—rinsing the dishes.
He opened the dishwasher door and took the first wet plate out of her hand. “Hey, they’re newlyweds. You’re delusional if you think they haven’t christened every room in this place.”
Nothing said he couldn’t help and annoy her at the same time.
“Oh my God, you’re so gross.” She handed him the next plate, serving it up with a good dose of disgust, judging by the expression on her face.
Mack shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“It doesn’t bother you? Thinking about your father having sex.” She hissed the last word in a whisper.
It bothered him, but not for the reasons she imagined. His father moving on rubbed that old wound that the loss of his mother had caused. But the fact his father was behaving like a normal, healthy man? Not one bit. “Nope. He’s in his early fifties. He’s not dead.”
She sighed, looking defeated as she handed him one more dripping dish. “My mother’s still in her forties.
“See. You plan on not having any sex when you’re in your forties?”
“No. I don’t know. That’s so far away. I can’t even think about it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Spoken like a twenty-two year old.”
Having stared down thirty himself, Mack knew forty was just around the corner after that.
Hell, given what he did for work, he’d be happy to make it to that age. And if he did, God willing, there was no way he’d waste those years. He’d probably be like a deer in rut if he was lucky enough to have a new bride at that age. Or even an old wife.
Wife. That word gave him pause. He’d never even thought it before in relation to his own marital status.
Must be Lydia’s over abundance of sex hormones from what they’d just done spilling over onto him.
Something else to worry about tomorrow . . . or the next day.
Another dish, some cutlery and the dishwasher was loaded. Lydia flipped off the water and turned to face him. “I guess we’d better get back in there.”
“Don’t want to?”
“Not really.”
“Wanna tell me why?” Mack asked.
She let out a laugh. “Too many reasons to list. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“Spoken like a devoted daughter.”
Lydia blew out a derogatory noise. “You should talk, devoted son that you are.”
He really couldn’t argue that point. He could have wedged in a visit to his father in that week he’d been home between Iraq and Africa. Brody had managed to go to his family’s home during that same time, and he had to drive all the way to Alabama.
Mack pushed aside that thought. Life was too damn short to be burdened with regrets or guilt. Or to do shit for everyone else before doing it for yourself.
One look at the judgment on Lydia’s face told him she had yet to learn that.
She was young. She’d learn soon enough to live for herself.
In the living room, Mack saw the happy newlyweds sitting hip to hip on the sofa.
His father had obviously learned to live the life he wanted. He’d gone ahead and married a woman he’d met without even telling his son before the fact.
Yup, selfishness must run in the family. Maybe Mack was a bastard thanks to genetics. He liked that theory.
“Dishwasher is all loaded,” he announced as he moved toward a chair.
As he sat, he realized he should have gotten himself another beer while he’d been in the kitchen.
He’d been too distracted by Lydia.
Considering how little he wanted to be here and how much he enjoyed a cold one on a Sunday afternoon, that was saying something.
Obviously she was quite a distraction.
CHAPTER 10
Lydia stood outside Mack’s apartment door after following him there in her car as he led the way on his bike.
He was so bossy he had to lead her even on the road. That thought had her sighing and tapping her foot as she waited for him to get the key in the lock.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Just so you know, you can pretend to be mad at me all you want. I like it. Besides, I’m not really sure what the hell you have to be angry about, but whatever. It’s fine with me.”
Mack defaulted to what Lydia had learned was his usual expression, at least around her—amused or more specifically amused at her expense—before he turned the key and the knob.
Not sure why she’d agreed to come back to his apartment, she watched as he pushed open the door.
She shook her head as she followed him inside. “What you did in my mother’s—your father’s kitchen . . . You’re obviously crazy.”
“Perhaps. But you loved it and you know it.”
“I did not love it.” She frowned, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was right.
“Liar.” He grinned wider as he pushed the door closed and flipped the deadbolt. With a hand on each of her arms, Mack backed her up across the narrow room. “We’re not at our parents’ house now.”
No, they certainly weren’t and there was no one to help her as she tumbled backward onto the sofa.
He followed her down, trapping her between his hard body and the soft cushions. She sank into the pillows with no hope of ever getting out, especially not with what had to be close to two hundred pounds of muscle-bound man on top of her.