Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (53 page)

“You can’t screw around with her,” Shelby warned. She put her hands on her hips and stared him down like the Amazon Shane often compared her to. “She’s a nice person.”

“I know that. Hell,
I’m
a nice person. Why do you assume she’ll be the one hurt if we go out? Maybe she’ll break
my
heart.” He turned to Shane. “What the hell have you been telling her about me?”

“Other than the truth?” Shane shrugged. “Personally, I think you and Maggie would make a great couple. But no way in hell am I playing cupid.”

Shelby glared at him before turning back to Mac, “I like you, Jameson. I’ll help you. But I’m warning you. You hurt her, I’ll rip your knee off and shove it up your ass.”

Impressed, Mac grinned. “Is that the therapist or Maggie’s best friend talking?”

“Both. Deal with it.”

“No problem. Now how do I get Maggie to go out with me?”

“With that woman? You don’t give her a chance to say no.”

Nine hours later, Mac waited in Maggie’s apartment, grateful Shelby had taken pity on him and let him inside. He’d worked on appearing pathetic for days, had practiced what he’d say to get Shelby’s help, and despite Shane’s advice to find another way to get to Maggie, he’d scored.

Now he just had to work the magic that had successfully won over the hearts and bodies of the many women he’d dated. Problem was, he’d been trying for months with Maggie, and she didn’t seem to appreciate his charm.

He resolved to take a few of Shelby’s hints to heart. Maggie liked a dominant personality. All her exes had been dicks. They either treated her like crap or were too weak to handle her. Maggie might be pint-sized—she came up the middle of his chest—but the woman had balls bigger than most men he knew. He wondered if he could push her boundaries in the bedroom.

Most of the woman he’d slept with hadn’t been into the rougher stuff. And not wanting to scare any of them, he held himself back when he’d sensed their limits. But Maggie was different. Would she like him taking charge in bed? Being tied up, fucked hard, ordered around?

One could only hope.

With a sigh, he told himself to take things one step at a time. First, build some trust. No fucking until he’d gotten to know her better and showed her she could depend on him. She knew him from the gym, so he hoped she had some idea he wasn’t a complete prick. Well, not all the time.

He stood up from the small loveseat he’d been sitting on and absorbed the feel of her place, taken with her vivid colors and artistic expression. Her small apartment suited her. Located in Queen Anne just a few blocks from the gallery where she worked, the small two bedroom unit was a gem, an old Victorian converted into two apartments. Maggie had the left half of the home, which boasted a cozy fireplace and old hardwood floors. In the living room, she’d positioned a loveseat and reading chair to face a television too small to be considered a distraction. Magazines and romance novels filled her built-in bookcase in the living room. Behind the couch, she’d fashioned a dining room with an antique table and four chairs. Tiny but cozy.

She didn’t have a lot of knickknacks, but the artwork on her walls livened the place. He wasn’t an artsy guy, but he liked her taste in decorating. Another plus to the woman.

He walked down the hallway leading past a powder room and into the larger of the two bedrooms. Her bedroom smelled like lavender and looked like a bomb had hit it. Her bed was unmade and clothes and shoes covered the floor. He grinned, realizing she must have been frantic to get to work on time. Mac spotted her lace bra on the floor and shuddered. He
really
wanted to see her in that, and soon.

He refrained from going through her closet and drawers, not wanting to be a creepy stalker-type. As it was, he’d have to do some fancy talking to convince her not to freak out and call the cops on him when she returned. But since Shelby had let him in, he figured he had an edge on the law.

He wandered into the kitchen, pleased to see she kept this room neat as a pin. No dirty dishes or food littered the counters. The small area stood apart from the living room by a narrow counter that had stools under it on the living room side. The open design gave the space an inviting grandness. That and the sunny butter color on the walls.

In the fridge, he found fruits and veggies but no meat. He frowned, not recalling whether she ate meat or not. Seattle was filled with health nuts. Though he worked out like a mad man, he didn’t live his life like a monk. He enjoyed a good steak now and then. He found himself wondering what it would be like to sit across the table with Maggie and enjoy dinner.

For some odd reason, he had bizarre fantasies of just being with her. Nothing sexual, but domestic shit. Like holding hands and taking walks. Going to movies or sitting around, talking. If he’d told Shane any of this, his friend would fall over laughing. Mac didn’t do serious relationships. He’d seen too many of them crumble, his parents a prime example. His uncle, the closest thing he had to a real father, had been taken to the cleaners by a greedy witch who didn’t know how to keep her legs closed. No, Mac didn’t do relationships. He fucked, he had fun, and he moved on.

He left the kitchen and looked around her dining room, lost in thought. Why the hell did Maggie intrigue him so much? He’d been rejected by women before. Granted, not many said no to him, but he normally accepted refusals with little care. Maggie bugged the shit out of him.

The rattle of keys and a feminine curse alerted him that it was do-or-die time. The doorknob turned and then the door opened.

Maggie entered wearing a slender black skirt that hit her at the knee. Black pumps accentuated her small feet and made her calves that much sexier. A wool coat covered her upper body until she shrugged out of it, revealing another of those body-hugging sweaters that kept him up at night. Jesus, Maggie had a rack worth dying over.

She hung up her jacket and took two steps in his direction before lifting her head.

The moment she saw him she screamed and stopped dead in her tracks. She slapped her hand over her heart, breathing hard, and stared at him.

“Damn. Sorry. Shelby let me in.” Mac made sure to keeps his hands in his jeans pockets. No need to startle her further or make himself look threatening. He leaned back against the dining table and tried to look smaller. “So how are you?”

“Y-you… What the
hell
are you doing here?” She took a few deep breaths and let them out before moving toward him.

Relieved she wasn’t scared of him, he shrugged. “I figured it was time we talked.”

“Talked,” she parroted. “About what? I just saw you eight hours ago.”

“Nine hours ago.”

“What do we have to talk about now?”

“Why won’t you go out with me?” he asked boldly.

She blinked. “Huh?”

Not the response he’d been hoping for. “I want to go out with you. On a date.”

“You want to have sex with me.”

“Well, that too. But I’d like to get to know you first.” He grinned, but she didn’t smile.

Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s lay it all out. You’ve been wanting to get me naked since day one.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“Why should I? You’re smokin’ hot. I’ve seen you for four straight months in nothing but tights and sports bras. Hell yeah, I want a shot at your body.” Why the hell did women have to make things difficult? He’d asked her out, flat out told her he wanted to know her better. And now he told the truth about wanting her. Shouldn’t she be flattered by his attention?

“That’s what I thought.” She sighed.

They stared at each other in silence, before he said, “You look tired.”

“Yeah? Well I had too many drinks last night, was forced to watch Avatar for the millionth time, and then woke up to you leering at me. I was also two seconds from being late to work. Now all I want to is to get in my comfy clothes and relax.”

She looked so worn down, and so damn cute. Mac’s heart felt funny, but he ignored it. Had to be the lust making him feel so weird around her all the time.

“Should I apologize for barging in?”

“Whatever.” She walked out of her heels and put herself another two inches shorter than him.

“Don’t hit me.”

“Why?”

Mac closed the distance between them and dragged her into his arms.

“
Mac.
”

Finally. She said his name. He hugged her tight, taking comfort in the feel and scent of her. Her hair smiled like wildflowers, and he had the insane thought he was hugging a fairy—a stacked fairy that could easily have starred in her own adult movies. “You looked like you needed this.”

She remained stiff for a moment, then eased into his embrace. Like a puppy wriggling to get more comfortable, she moved until her curves fit against the hard plane of chest. Just right.

“You are so bossy. And so warm,” she murmured.

He stroked her hair, amused and freaked out about this odd hug. Especially since he’d initiated it. “You have to do me a favor. Promise not to tell Shelby or Shane about this. A freakin’ hug. We should be rolling naked on the floor together by now.”

She laughed softly, and he ran his hands from her hair to her back, smoothing over her tense muscles. “I never agreed to have sex with you.”

“You should. Sex is a great stress reliever.”

“Yeah, well, according to the ladies at the gym, you would know.”

Oh hell. Maggie hadn’t meant to let that slip.

He pulled back to look at her, and damn him, but his eyes looked impossibly blue. “Don’t tell me
you
listen to the rumors at the gym?”

She blushed but didn’t turn away. “I can’t help it. Jameson’s Gym is like its own tiny universe. It’s hard not to hear that the great stud at the gym has slept with just about all the female members.”

Instead of being put in his place, Mac grinned. “Not Mrs. Hicks. I mean, I could have had her, but I didn’t want to piss off my uncle.”

Maggie couldn’t help her laugh. “Better not let him hear you say that. He’s way too young for her. Ida Hicks is ninety years old. Okay, so she’s the one woman you haven’t had sex with.”

“Please. There are a ton of women I’ve never been with.” He paused. “There’s you.”

A quiet settled between them, one that made her nervous…and aroused. The man got to her on every level. It just figured she’d been thinking about him all day and her traitor of a best friend had let him into her house.

“Right. There’s me.” She cleared her throat and tried to move away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Um, Mac? Let me go.”

“Since you said my name, okay.” He released her and stepped back looking smug.

This Mac Jameson she knew too well. “I say your name all the time.”

“When you’re not calling me a jerk, a dictator, or an asshole, you usually call me Jameson.” He crossed those incredible arms over his massive chest.

She refrained from fanning herself and planted her hands on her hips, wanting to appear strong, not swoony from the sight of his incredible body. “You
are
a jerk, a dictator and an asshole. Sometimes.”

“You’re just as bossy. You’re just prettier about it.” He grinned, and the flash of that smile melted her resolve to keep her distance. “For the record, I think I slept with maybe three women who work out at the gym, and the last one was months ago. Not my fault they have big mouths.”

A surge of jealousy struck her mute. Totally not how she wanted to feel about her
boss
. She cleared her throat. “Right. Let’s get back on track.”

“Oh, let’s.”

“Shelby let you into my apartment. You want to have sex with me, and you want to talk.”

“I want a date.”

That surprised her. “Why? If I agree to take off my clothes and let you screw me right now, will that end your pursuit? I mean, we both know what you really want, right?”

He blinked as he digested her words, and she had the satisfaction of knowing she’d thrown him for a loop.

In a low growl, he asked, “So you’d fuck me right here, right now, to get me off your case?”

“Sure. Why not?” God, she would. She really would. She’d been dancing around her attraction for four long months. She trusted Mac, well, not as a boyfriend, but as a man who would never force her or physically hurt her.

Not unless she wanted him to.

And there went another pair of panties.

“Damn.” He scrubbed his hair and took a surprising step back. “Tell you what. Go get comfortable and we’ll have that talk.”

Not what she’d expected to hear. “Excuse me?”

His familiar arrogance returned. “Did I stutter? Go put your hot little ass in comfortable clothes and get back here.”

She wished his bossiness didn’t arouse her so much. She grumbled as she walked away. “I’ll change because
I
want to change, not because you’re telling me what to do. It’s my freakin’ house.”

She heard him mutter something about annoying women but had a hard time getting over the fact that he liked the way she looked. He always called her hot or pretty or beautiful, words she’d been hearing her entire life. But when he said it, she actually believed it.

She returned moments later in clean panties, her favorite flannel pants, her comfy bra, a sweatshirt, and her fuzzy socks. Her relaxing and totally unappealing clothes. A pitiful defense, but if she felt unattractive, she prayed she could stop herself from jumping the man.

Maggie didn’t want to be another notch on his bedpost. And right now, aroused and excited, she feared she’d look without leaping. The notion of having an orgasm with Mac—no longer
Jameson
—had indeed become an obsession.

“Well? I’m here. Talk.” She glared at Mac sitting on her loveseat. He’d started a fire, and the place looked way too cozy not to get closer.

He patted the spot next to him. “Sit by me.”

She snorted. “My house. My rules.” She deliberately took a seat in the chair opposite the loveseat.

He sighed, rose to his formidable height, and crossed the room to loom over her.

“Did I stutter?” she mocked, repeating him from earlier.