Designed for Love (Texas Nights) (15 page)

Yeah, Mac was
very
abundant. Ashton rocked a little against his fly, her clitoris doing a happy dance at the rasp of denim against it. “Mmm.”

“Remember that patience thing?” Mac stilled her with one hand at her waist while he worked her shirt buttons loose.

“I have problems with my short-term memory.” She tried to circle her hips, but damn the man was strong. “Old softball injury.”

Mac pushed her shirt off her shoulders, let it hang at the crook of her arms. “Damn, I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Rumpled. Half-dressed.” He ran a thumb over her bra cup, and her nipples hardened beneath the smooth fabric. “Sexy as hell.”

She shrugged off her shirt and reached for her bra clasp. While she was distracted, Mac used his freakish upper body strength to lift her up, up, up... “Mac?”

“Spread your legs.”

No hesitation. Which should’ve pissed her off. Manhandling was not making love.

But when Mac began lowering her again, her legs went completely loose when she realized what he was doing. “I can’t—”

“Grab the tree trunk.”

Again, she automatically did what he asked, bracing herself against it, the bark pressing into the tender skin of her palms. But she could’ve been holding on to smoldering coals for all she noticed. Because by this time Mac had his arms wrapped around her thighs to position her exactly where he wanted her—with one knee on either side of his head. Sure, she’d done this before, but never in this position.

“Relax,” he said.

“Easy for you to s—”

When his tongue swept across her inner lips, Ashton wobbled and listed to one side. The way her thighs were already quivering, she would not survive—

He thrust his tongue inside her.

“Oh, God...”

Then he manipulated her hips, drawing her back and down, dragging the tip of that should-be-registered-as-a-weapon tongue along the seam of her body to flick over her clit. The feel of his goatee skimming all those sensitive spots sent a shudder through her belly. With her cells running wild, screaming “fire, fire” and bumping into each other like panicked minions, she had absolutely no control over her own body.

And God help her, she feared that lack of control encompassed her heart as well because it was expanding and contracting with more than just physical arousal. No, that movement had everything to do with the generous man rocking her against his mouth and tongue, making low, hungry sounds as he licked and kissed and sucked. She was panting as though she’d just walked ten miles in heels. He would pay for this. She would have him at her mercy if she had to tie him down and—

He closed his lips around her clitoris and worked a thick finger inside her body. She wouldn’t make it out alive to pay him back. Her muscles fluttered and contracted. A second finger joined the first.

Too much.
Too much.
Too—

Mac did some magic twist with his fingers, and Ashton’s body combusted. Simply fragmented into a million shimmering, shaking bits of bliss.

Oh, God. This man was just right.

Chapter Fourteen

With the taste of Ashton’s release still on his tongue, Mac pulled her down to his chest, where she lay panting. Yeah, his breath wasn’t all that steady either. Sweet. Powerful. He could give her orgasm after orgasm and never tire of the way it made him feel.

Stroking a hand down her tangled hair, Mac pressed a kiss to her crown. Might make him a wuss, but even though his dick was still a pole in his pants, he’d be satisfied to lie here all night holding this woman. Her warm, soft body draping over him. With her, he was a hero, not a self-centered fuck-up. He steeled his jaw against that thought. Memories had no place here. Not in the secluded, special connection they’d built. It was as if they were the only two people in the world, protected by the towering trees and night sky.

“Mac?” Ashton’s voice was low and a little sleepy.

Shit. He’d thought he could just hang out and hold her, but if she conked out on him, he would be left with the hard-on from hell. And the shower in his trailer was too cramped for a decent jerk-off session. His balls ached at the thought he might not get to finish what they’d started. “Yeah?”

Ashton lifted her head, and determination glittered in her gaze. “Paybacks are hell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Unless you’re the best actress in the world, you just came like there’s no tomorrow.” After all, a woman didn’t go this boneless for no reason.

“Means I’m going to tie you to one of these trees, let tree bark bite into your naked ass, while I get between your legs and suck—”

The body part being discussed twitched in his pants, and as hard as he was, the movement hurt. “As tempting as that sounds, I think we’ll finish this thing in the hammock tonight. But feel free to put that request on your list.”

List? As soon as he finished his two jobs, there wouldn’t be a need for some sexual wish list. He’d be back in the city, and a long-distance relationship wasn’t in the cards.

Warm lips skimmed his jaw, and Ashton kissed her way down his neck. Arousing and soothing at the same time. But when she reared back and ripped open the snaps on his shirt, the soothing bit was over in a flash. Mac’s nipples hardened in the cool night air.

Ashton ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, scratching her nails over his nipples negligently, then heading down to his abs. His stomach muscles rippled under her touch. To distract himself from her teasing probing of his navel, he cupped her breasts, circled her nipples with his thumbs.

He wanted his mouth right there. He tried to sit up, but Ashton braced her hands against his shoulder, using her leverage to keep him prone. All he had to do was flip their positions and—

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, you can forget it.”

“How do you know I was thinking about anything other than getting my mouth right here?” He lightly pinched the tips of her breasts between his fingers. And didn’t that jerk of her hips feel fucking fantastic against his dick? So he tried it again and got the same reaction. Nice, but what he really wanted was to bust the zipper on these damned jeans and push up into her wet heat. And he knew she was both, could feel it through the denim separating them.

He made a clumsy half-roll to one side so he could wrestle his wallet from his back pocket. His one-handed extraction of the single condom inside was awkward and once he had the package in hand, he tossed the wallet aside, heard it hit the ground. His boots had to go so he toed them off and let them drop as well.

Ashton plucked the condom from his hand and shimmied down so she was perched like a jockey on his thighs. In the process, her short skirt rode up even further, exposing a thin strip of dark blond hair between her legs. For all the folks debating what heaven looked like, Mac now had an answer for them.

He reached for Ashton’s hips, but she batted him aside and went to work on his fly. She thumbed open the button and slowly drew down his zipper.

She made a low humming sound in her throat as she revealed what was possibly the most monstrous woody of his life. “So that commando thing at the lake wasn’t a one-time thing. Why am I not surprised that you’re not a boxers or a briefs man?”

“I don’t like being constrained.”

“How about
restrained?
”

His dick pulsed as if it had a mind of its own. Hell, a few more minutes of this and what little ability his big head still had to reason would be blown to kingdom come. She smoothed a fingertip over the tip of his dick, along the slit and down until his jeans hindered her exploration. By the time she made the return trip, he could’ve built that whole damned pavilion without a hammer. Just him and his dick, that was all he’d need.

And when she lifted her finger to her mouth and her tongue flicked out to taste him, Mac finally lost it. He bucked up, forcing Ashton to her knees so he could push his jeans over his ass. He reached around her to wrestle them down his legs. Smooth it wasn’t, but it got the job done.

That was, until she wrapped her fist around him and slowly—so fucking slowly he died twenty times—pumped from base to tip. His hips arced off the hammock to follow her touch.

“You can’t—” Jesus, his voice actually broke, “—do that.”

“Why not?” Damned if she didn’t surround him with her other hand, gripping and stroking with the perfect eye-crossing pressure. His girl was gifted with both hands, but was obviously a righty.

“Because I can’t take it.”

“The big, bad Mac McLaughlin can’t stand to get a hand job? That would certainly ruin your reputation on job sites.”

Fuck his reputation. All he cared about was fucking her. Now. “Where’s the condom?”

She dangled it just out of his reach, letting it wave back and forth.

“If you don’t open that in the next ten seconds and get it on me—”

“You’ll what? Get up and walk away?” Her laughter did nothing but make his need bullet higher. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t threaten something you’d never follow through on?”

She had him there. It would take a crane to pull him out of this hammock before he was done with her. So he gripped the backs of her thighs, slipped one hand over that perfect strip of golden hair but stopped just short of her magic button. She tried to move her hips, but his grip held her still.

God, if he could freeze this instant, keep the way Ashton looked—all hot and haughty, rumpled and real—tucked inside him forever, he’d be happy for the rest of his life. This was the way it was supposed to be between a man and woman. Silly, fun, tender, heated, soft, hard. Everything that made life full and meaningful.

Why now? Why was this the woman who showed him how it could be even though he didn’t deserve all those things?

“Mac?”

Not exactly the opportune time to try to get his fucking head on straight. “Just giving you a sec to prepare yourself.”

Her laughter was rich and full of delight, but the fingernail she scratched along his hipbone held a warning. “Seriously? It’s not like I’ve never—”

Mac reared up, grabbed the condom, cut her off with a kiss. And if he was in trouble just looking at her, this was worse. So much worse. And better. She tasted of lager and sweet woman. Her lips were soft and mobile against his. When she tilted her head and opened for him, the last barrier Mac had shored up around his heart splintered. She trusted him, wanted him, believed in him. And whether he deserved it or not, he wanted it.

Even if he had to walk away from it. From her.

But not tonight.

He wrapped her in his arms, his skin craving the touch of hers. She smoothed out all those rough spots, those jagged edges inside him. Her spine felt so fragile beneath his palms. She was a woman who should be indulged, taken care of. But that was the last thing she wanted from him.

The condom was plucked from his hold. The ripping sound of the package almost made him shed a damn tear. When Ashton smoothed it down him, he lost his concentration, lost control of the kiss.

She rubbed her cheek along his, whispered in his ear. “I can handle everything you’ve got, Michael McLaughlin.”

Yeah, but could he handle her?

Ashton lifted and lowered, guiding him inside her body. And the slide, the slow friction was...fucking perfect. Someone upstairs had screwed up good because he’d let Mac inside the pearly gates. And damned if he was ever leaving again.

He urged Ashton to wrap her legs around his hips, deepening her hold on him. That last half inch wrenched a moan from Mac’s chest.

“Told...mmm...you...so.” Her words were punctuated by tiny hip rocks that sent shocks all the way to Mac’s fingers and toes. Even if he survived, sanity wasn’t guaranteed.

He palmed her ass, led her into a hip-rolling rhythm that had her pulling away and sinking back against him in a short-circuiting spiral. Her breasts skimmed his chest on every move, making him wish he had bigger hands. He wanted to touch all of her at the same time. Wanted to be inside her, under her, over her, all around her.

Mac tugged a strand of her hair, and Ashton arced her neck, giving him access to all that skin. He kissed his way up from her collarbone, over the tendon in her neck to the spot behind her ear. When he pressed his lips there, Ashton’s rhythm broke.

“Like that?”

Her tremble was all the answer he needed. He lingered, then homed in on the muscle between her neck and shoulder. When he scraped his teeth along it, Ashton’s hips jerked in response. She liked that even better.

Mac filled his lungs. He needed all the control he could get. He concentrated on smoothing out their rhythm, pulling her to him with a long slide that sent his heartbeat into overload. But he fought back the need to let go, just lose himself inside her.

As soon as he was sure he could handle it, he urged her into shorter, harder thrusts. His balls tightened in anticipation.
Keep it under control.
Just a little longer.

When Ashton’s breaths were more moans than exhales, Mac struck, using his teeth on her shoulder to hold her still so he could pump against her.

The sound she made was like that of a woman tasting chocolate after a year without dessert. Low and appreciative. She clenched around him, her arms, legs, between her legs.

Mac stopped thinking and let go. Let all the feelings that had been building for her shudder through his body, center in his groin, and explode. Fucking amazing. Everything inside him was ten tons lighter, the world seemed brighter.

He pulled her back into the hammock with him, cradling her against his chest.

She kissed his sternum and laid her head over the place inside him she’d just changed forever. “We make a pretty good team, McLaughlin.”

Damned if they didn’t.

* * *

Ashton’s feet were frostier than the temperature of her favorite dirty martini. Strangely, from neck to knees, her body was toasty. She drew her legs up, skimmed her toes against something hard and hot and slightly hairy. A flinch and a grunt in response.

Mac.

She blinked a couple of times, trying to focus in the striped sunlight spearing through the budding hardwoods and still-green pines. Dear God, they’d slept in the hammock. Outdoors. All night. But based on the way Mac’s arm was wrapped around her ribcage and his chest was plastered to her back, she’d had nothing to fear.

Well, nothing to fear except feeling things for this man that could jeopardize her standing on her own two feet.

By the even rhythm of his breathing, that flinch-grunt had been instinct rather than conscious reaction. With a glance down, she figured out the reason her front side was warm as well. At some point, he’d draped his flannel shirt over them. That made her smile. Those Paul Bunyan shirts were lifesavers.

Her eyelids fluttered. The warmth and security of lying here wrapped in Mac’s arms and his clothes was delicious. A seduction of comfort. Almost as yummy as what he’d done to her body last night.

The instant her eyes closed, a strident ring blasted from somewhere below them. Her phone. God, people were uncivilized, calling at...at whatever time it was. Ashton dug her way to the side of the hammock, leaned over to blink at the ground. Well, she certainly hadn’t been concerned about preserving the few nice things she had left because her bag was tipped drunkenly on its side, with her makeup case and cell phone a foot away, looking as though they were making a break for it.

When she grabbed for the phone, the hammock rocked perilously and something solid rolled against her back, knocking the breath from her and sending her halfway over the side. But it did put the phone within scrabbling distance. She stretched to scratch it toward her with her fingertips, lost her balance and would’ve face-planted in the dirt if Mac hadn’t grabbed her, his big hand somehow ending up plastered over her crotch.

Mornings after should be for cuddling and coffee, not phone calls and crotch grabs.

“Ash?” Mac’s sleep-roughened voice sent awareness streaking over her skin.

“Hang on to me.”

That had him shifting his grip to her hipbone and pulling her butt tight against the father of all morning hard-ons.

Awareness? Every cell in her body was now awake, and they were apparently morning people. But Gigi’s picture was flashing on Ashton’s phone, and taking her call was not only polite but self-preservation.

“Hello?” Good Lord, her low, sleepy tone all but shouted “Yes, I screwed my general contractor’s brains out last night and, if truth be told, I’d do it again in a Manhattan minute.”

“Ashton Nicole Davenport.”

Ash’s midsection was no longer warm. It had that damn-I-shouldn’t-have-eaten-that-sushi-last-night feeling. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Is this the way you think a project like Lily Lake should be managed?”

Ashton jerked back, double-checking she hadn’t hit FaceTime by mistake. Whew. Plain old voice-to-voice. Still, she pulled Mac’s shirt up to her chin only to hear his indignant “Hey!”

“Where are you?” Gigi’s words were clipped.

“I’m...ah...consulting—” canoodling?
Canoodling
,
Ashton
,
really?
“—with Mac about the next stage of the project.”

“Well, maybe
Mac
will be able to control the shitstorm heading your way.”