home. It didn’t come, and Rory heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, a tread that couldn’t possibly belong to her sister. The saliva in her mouth dried up and her heart rolled; there was only one other person who had a key to Shay’s apartment and he was the one person Rory didn’t want to be alone with.
In her pajamas, with crazy hair, sans makeup and braless.
Mac appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, scowled at her and ran a hand over his tired face. He had a light bruise on his jaw—he’d obviously traded blows on the ice—and the beginnings of a black eye but his injuries looked superficial. It was the emotion she saw in his dark eyes that held her rooted to the spot; he looked frustrated and wound up.
“Where’s your sister?” he demanded, his deep, rough voice rumbling over her skin.
“Hello to you too.” Rory shrugged and his frown deepened at her response. “I have no idea where she is. Are you okay?”
Mac let out a low, humorless laugh. “Hell, no, I’m screwed.” He scowled at her and placed his hands on his hips. “Why are you here?”
“Heat’s out in my apartment. Shay said I could sleep here so I don’t freeze.”
“Just my friggin’ luck,” Mac muttered.
“Jeez, what’s your problem?” Rory asked him as he shrugged out of his expensive leather jacket and tossed it onto the granite counter. A long-sleeved black T-shirt clung to his broad chest and fell, untucked, over well-fitting jeans. He looked hot and tired and so damn sexy she could jump him right now, right where he stood.
Sister’s boyfriend, she reminded herself as he walked over to the fridge, pulled out a microbrewed beer and cracked the top. He took a long swallow, sighed and, closing his eyes, placed the bottle against his forehead.
“Bitching, horrible, freakin’ revolting day.”
She wouldn’t have thought the big badass of the Mavericks could sound so melodramatic. “It couldn’t have been that dire—you won the game.”
Mac’s ink-blue eyes lasered into hers. “Did you watch?” he asked, his question as pointed as a spear tip.
Rory shook her head. “Nah, had to study. Why?”
“Because I was wondering why my head was still attached to my neck.”
Rory narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
Instead of answering, he gave her a long look. Then he placed his bottle on the center island and walked toward her. He gripped the counter, one hand on either side of her body. He was like a big human cage, she thought.
Up close and personal, she could see the slight tinge of auburn in his stubble, notice how long his eyelashes were, could see a faded scar on his top lip. And man, he smelled so good. She wanted to stand on her toes and kiss that scar, run her lips over that bruise on his jaw, kiss his eye better.
Sister’s boyfriend, sister’s boyfriend...she had no right to be standing this close to Mac, tasting his breath, feeling his heat. Playing with fire, coloring outside the lines was something her father did, his worst trait, yet despite that sobering thought she couldn’t make herself move away, was unable to duck under Mac’s arm. Even though Mac belonged to Shay, Rory wanted just one kiss from him. She wanted to know what he tasted like, how strong his arms felt around her, how it felt to be plastered against that solid wall of muscle. Just one kiss...
Gray eyes clashed with blue as his mouth hovered above hers. As she stood there, so close and so personal, she knew exactly what he’d do, how she’d feel...
His lips would slide across hers, cool, strong...smart. She’d open her mouth to protest, to say they couldn’t do this—or to let him in, who knew—and he wouldn’t hesitate. As his tongue slid into her mouth, his hand on her lower back would pull her into him and his other hand would delve beneath the elastic of her flannel bottoms to cup a butt cheek. His kiss would turn deeper and wetter and her hands would burrow under his loose T-shirt and explore the muscles of his back, his shoulders, his fabulously ripped stomach.
She’d think that it was wrong but she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Mac would, ever so slowly, pull her T-shirt up to expose her too-small breasts and she’d whimper into his mouth and push her hips against him, needing to rub herself against his hard, hard erection. He’d be what a man felt like, strong, hot, in control...
“I just saw our entire kiss in your eyes. God, that was so hot,” Mac growled, and she tasted his sweet breath on her lips again.
“We can’t, it’s wrong.” Rory pushed the words up her throat, past her teeth, through her lips. Four words and she felt like she’d run a marathon.
Mac’s eyes stayed locked on hers and, in case she missed the desire blazing there, his erection nudging her knee let her know how much he wanted her. Mac wanted her...he really did. Tall, built, smelling great, gorgeous...how was she supposed to resist him?
Sister’s boyfriend, sister’s boyfriend...
Rory placed her hands on his pecs and pushed. Mac stepped back but as he did, he lifted his hand to run his knuckle over her cheek. That small, tender action nearly shattered her resolve and she had to grab the edge of the counter with both hands to keep from launching herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips and feasting on that fallen-angel mouth.
So this was primal lust, crazy passion. She wasn’t sure she liked how out of control it made her feel. Squirmy, hot, breathless...it was intensely tempting to throw caution to the wind and get lost in the moment. Did having such a flammable reaction to Mac mean that she was more like her dad than she thought? Ugh. This wasn’t going to happen, she decided. From this point on she would not kiss, touch or think about her sister’s boyfriend. This stopped. Now.
Rory held up a hand. “Back up.”
Mac took two steps back and she could breathe. She felt the craziness recede. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sent her a brooding look. “That was...”
“Wrong? Crazy? A betrayal of my sister?”
Mac frowned. “Let’s not get carried away here. We didn’t even kiss.”
“We wanted to!”
“But we didn’t so let’s not get too caught up in the melodrama.” Mac picked up his beer, sipped and sighed. His head snapped up and Rory heard the front door closing, heard her sister kicking off her heels. Rory tried to keep her face blank but she felt like her brain and heart were on fire as guilt and shame pricked her skin.
We didn’t actually kiss but I really, really wanted to...
“You’re here.” Shay tossed the words at Mac as she stepped into the kitchen. Rory frowned. Shay didn’t walk up to Mac and kiss him. It was what she did, every single time she saw him, whether they’d been apart five minutes or five weeks.
Mac made no effort to touch Shay either. He just stood there wearing that inscrutable face Rory knew he used when he wanted to avoid a scene.
But a scene, she knew it like she knew her own signature, was what they were about to have. Why?
Rory turned her eyes to her sister’s face. She recognized
