The noise Dylan made in the back of his throat struck a primitive chord. And the feel of his arousal, rock hard, thick, searching...made her feel crazy inside. Out of control. She wanted to rip off her jeans, right there in the kitchen, and demand that Dylan use his body to put her out of this new, foreign, torturous misery. Mackenzie pushed back against his arm, pushed her hands against his chest. She had to put some distance between them before she let her body’s driving needs overrun her reason.
Dylan’s arms opened and they both took a step back. Chests rising and falling, desire still sparking in both of their eyes, they were silent. Stunned by what had just happened and uncertain of their next move. Mackenzie touched her fingers to her lips. She had never been kissed like that before; she thought those kind of kisses were for other women. Not her.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Mackenzie blurted out.
Dylan resisted the urge to adjust himself. “Down the hall—second door on the right.”
Mackenzie headed to the downstairs bathroom and Dylan chose to head upstairs to the third-floor master bedroom. He took the stairs two at a time; he waited until he had reached his bedroom before he gave in to the need to make the necessary adjustments.
What the hell just happened?
Mackenzie had made him nuts: the sensual curves of her womanly body. The full breasts, the roundness of her hips. The way her hair smelled, the feel of her soft lips...the taste of her...it all drove him wild. And he’d wanted to take her right there on the kitchen floor; would have taken her, if she had only given him the green light. Dylan sat down on the edge of his bed; he needed some time to cool off before he went back downstairs. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t put it past himself to try to talk Mackenzie out of her pants and into his bed.
Mackenzie darted into the bathroom and locked the door.
What just happened?
She was shaking, not from being cold, not from fear...from lust...desire...passion. The most sensitive part of her body, between her thighs, was throbbing, for God’s sake! She was...embarrassed. And hornier than she’d been since she was pregnant with Hope. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted a man; she had mentally shut down her sexuality years ago. Eventually, her body had followed. But now? Now her body was turned back on with a vengeance. And she was hot for Dylan Axel. With few good options available to her, Mackenzie sat down on the edge of the tub until she could think of a better plan. What does one do in a situation such as this?
Run for your life?
“Mackenzie?”
Dylan’s knock on the door startled her, made her jump.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!”
An unconvinced pause and then Dylan said, “Are you sure? You’ve been in there a long time...”
“I’ll be out in a minute!”
Mackenzie splashed cool water on her face, glad now that she hadn’t put on mascara. Yes, her eyes were watery, red and puffy...but at least she didn’t look like a drowned raccoon.
She pointed at her own reflection. “You are not a coward. Just go out there and deal with this head-on!”
Determined to exit stage left as soon as possible, she open the door, marched back into the kitchen and prepared to deliver her excuse.
“I hope you like zinfandel...” Dylan had uncorked a bottle of wine.
“I do.” That didn’t sound like much of an excuse.
Dylan grabbed the bottle, two glasses and a blanket.
“Let’s head down to the beach,” he said.
Dylan seemed to know exactly what she needed, exactly how she needed it. And instead of making an excuse, as per the plan, she found herself following Dylan down to the beach. When they reached a good spot on the sand, he spread out the blanket. After they were settled, Dylan poured them both a glass of wine and they touched glasses.
“To first kisses.” Dylan made the toast.
“First kisses?” Mackenzie didn’t take a drink.
“Yeah...tonight was our first real kiss. I don’t remember much from the wedding, but I do remember that you wouldn’t let me kiss you.”
“Oh...I’d forgotten about that.” Not sure she wanted to repeat that toast, she took a sip of the wine instead. “Good wine.”
Night had fallen and they practically had the beach to themselves. There was a party just kicking in to high gear several houses down, but none of the partygoers had wandered down to their small stretch of beach.
It took a second full glass of wine, but Mackenzie no longer felt the least bit awkward or embarrassed.
“Killer view, Dylan...”
“I like it...” Dylan nodded, his eyes focused straight ahead.
By the third glass, Mackenzie had kicked off her shoes, dug her toes in the sand, and she felt all swirly and dreamy like buttercream frosting atop a cupcake. By the fourth glass, Mackenzie was flat on her back, loose as a goose, admiring the stars.
“You’re not going to be able to drive home now,” Dylan noted.
“That’s true,” Mackenzie agreed nonchalantly.
Dylan finished his fourth glass of wine. They had finished the bottle. “And I’m not going to be able to drive you home.”
“That’s also true...”
“So...you’ll have to spend the night.”
Mackenzie giggled. “And here I thought I was too old for a sleepover.”
Mackenzie was obviously three sheets to the wind and he was buzzed. It was time to get off the beach. Dylan helped Mackenzie stand up, helped her get steady on her feet and walked up the stairs behind her just in case she tipped backward. Back in the kitchen, Mackenzie folded her arms and laid her head down on the island.
“Come on...” Dylan said kindly. “I’ll get you set up in the spare room.”
Dylan made sure she had everything she needed for a comfortable night: new toothbrush, toothpaste, a comfortable bed...privacy. He even brought her the top of his pajamas to wear so she wouldn’t have to sleep in her clothes. Languid and carefree from the wine, Mackenzie finished in the bathroom, tossed the decorative pillows onto the floor and rolled herself into bed. She sighed happily and snuggled into the downy pillows. Alone, in the dark, her mind drifted back to Dylan’s kisses. Her body undoubtedly wanted more and more and more. But did she?
The next morning, she had the answer to that self-imposed question. Slightly hungover, and a little bit headachy, Mackenzie brushed her teeth and then, still in Dylan’s pajama top, she left the guest bedroom. The house was quiet as she headed up to Dylan’s third-floor master suite. Other than the unmade, empty bed, the room was spotless. The man really was a total neat freak. Her chronic messiness would drive him nuts! Mackenzie stood in the doorway for a moment, rethinking the soundness of her plan. Perhaps she should just turn around, sprint back to her room and catapult