Backfield in Motion (13 page)

And he liked the idea that she trusted him
enough to reveal something so painfully personal. Yeah, he liked
that.

A lot.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Mac sat in the passenger
seat as Bruiser drove his SUV back onto the ferry, where it was
wedged between a semi-truck and the interior wall. Mac couldn’t see
a thing beyond the vehicles crammed on three sides of them.
Washington State Ferry workers were known for their ability to fill
every square inch of car deck space. If they had to abandon ship,
Mac wasn’t sure she could squeeze out the door.

Dinner had proven to be, well, uh,
interesting to say the least, between Eunice’s pink and purple
décor, Shanna’s biker boyfriend, and the family’s constant
badgering of Bruiser. She’d been fascinated by the screwed-up
dynamics. Bruiser didn’t have it any better than the rest of the
world; he just hid it well.

“Thank God that’s over.” Bruiser stretched
in the seat. He spread his arms wide in an arc, his fingers grazing
her cheek. Mac suppressed a shiver even as she warned herself
against taking such an accidental touch seriously.

“Want to go up top? Enjoy the salt air?” He
grinned at her, one of those full-on grins that punched her in the
stomach with a heavy dose of desire garnished with hard-to-deny
chemistry.

Like she could get out if she wanted. “I’m
fine. It’s dark and rainy anyway. Not much to see.”

She half expected him to head upstairs
without her, but he didn’t. Instead, his gaze travelled lazily up
and down her body, coming to rest on her face.

“I like the view here better.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Mac snorted, her
voice extra loud after one too many margaritas. “Your family is a
hoot. And the cats. I love the cats.”

“Glad someone does,” Bruiser muttered.

“They sure have your number.”

“The cats or the family?”

“Both.”

“They’ve always had my number and no insult
is off limits.” He pushed his seat back and tilted the steering
wheel upward.

“I could see that. You must have pretty
thick skin.”

It was Bruiser’s turn to snort. “Try
elephant-hide thick.” He turned to her, and his frowned deepened.
“How’d it go with Brett?”

“Nice move deflecting the conversation from
your family. He didn’t fill you in?”

“A little, but tell me your take.” He stared
intently at her like a hungry restaurant reviewer eyeing a
delectable menu, only she couldn’t be on that menu. Tonight or any
other night. Even if a naughty part of her wanted to be.

“We had a nice time.”

“You don’t sound particularly enthused.”
Bruiser almost looked happy at the thought.

“I like Brett, but—” Mac didn’t know how to
articulate what she wanted to say. Brett’s a great catch, and she
was an idiot for lusting after the wrong guy? Yeah, that about
summed it up. Idiot. Wrong guy. Lusting. Definitely all three.

“He doesn’t do it for you.” Bruiser read her
mind. He’d done a lot of that lately, and his perceptiveness threw
her off kilter.

“Not really,” she heard herself admit.

“Not like I do, but then who could blame
you?” He shot her another lopsided, teasing grin, which didn’t
conceal an underlying layer of pure male heat. If he kept that up,
she’d be divested of her pride and her panties.

Mac smacked him on the arm. He didn’t even
flinch. “That’s pretty arrogant of you.”

Bruiser shrugged. “Just telling it like it
is. We’ve been dancing around each other ever since the
barbecue.”

It’d been a helluva lot longer than that,
but originally she’d been dancing solo. “Looking for another notch
on your dick?”

“Nah, quit notching it long ago. I prefer
the bedpost.” His storm-cloud eyes tempted her, drew her in,
promised her all sorts of naughty things, the kinds of naughty
things a nice girl secretly lusted after.

“Ran out of room, did you?”

“I’d take you for a test drive if you were
sitting on the lot.”

“Maybe I am.” Mac couldn’t believe she’d
said that to him, but she had, and dammit she was going to own it,
margaritas be blamed or not.

“Is that Mac or the tequila talking?” He
didn’t take the bait even though he’d thrown the first punch.

“Both. I’m not drunk. Just a little tipsy.”
Mac tugged on her skirt, which had hiked up to give Bruiser a good
view of her bare mid-thighs. The seductress thing was new to her.
Most women would’ve bared more thigh, but she figured less was
more. Bruiser seemed to think so, too, if his scorching-hot gaze
raking her legs was any indication.

“You sure you’re a consenting adult in your
close-to-right mind?” His slow, sexy smile said it all. Bruiser,
pretty boy of the NFL, wanted to jump her bones. Damn. She sure as
hell had fantasized long enough about jumping his.

Mac lifted her head and met Bruiser’s steady
gaze. “Oh, yeah, I’m consenting. I need to start living my
life.”

“So you want to live it now? In my Chevy?”
Bruiser’s stormy eyes held her hostage.

“Yes.” She licked her lips and
swallowed.

“Seriously?” He frowned, as if he wasn’t
quite sure if he understood her.

“I thought—I mean, I, oh, never mind. I read
you wrong.” Mac’s face fell. She felt all kinds of stupid.

“It’s not that I’m not interested, Mac. I
am. Damn, but I am. In fact, I haven’t been able to get you out of
my mind for a few weeks now.”

“Since when? The party?” Mac blinked a few
times, unable to imagine Bruiser Mackey lusting over her while he
ran his morning miles.

“Actually, before that. I was lusting over
the real Mac. The one pre-makeover.”

“Maybe this
is
the real Mac, but I’ve
been hiding.”

“You looked great before. You look great
now. Either one works for me, as long as you’re who you want to
be—but you don’t need that crap to make yourself pretty.” He
shrugged with a frown on his handsome face, even as his gaze did a
slow journey down her body and up again.

“Pretty? You think I’m pretty?” God, she
sounded so pathetic, like an orphan puppy begging for a little
love.

There came that sexy, lopsided smile again.
“Yeah, I do.” His eyes glinted like the sun bouncing off silver
dollars in a fountain.

“You want me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” He sobered for
a moment. “But what about Brett?”

“There is no Brett. I wish he interested me,
but he doesn’t. He’s a great guy, and he deserves a woman who
doesn’t have her mind on other—pursuits.” Not as long as Bruiser
lived in every one of her sexual fantasies. Fuck, she wanted those
fantasies to come true.

“Still, he won’t be happy about this.”

“I wasn’t going to announce it to the whole
team.”

A shadow crossed his face in a brief cameo
appearance. “You sure this isn’t tequila talking?” Bruiser’s tight
laugh betrayed the amount of restraint he currently exercised.

“Do you want me or not, buster?” Well, maybe
the tequila did talk—somewhat—but Mac knew what she was doing.

“Fuck, yeah.” He leaned toward her, his
scent filled her nostrils, intoxicating her more than any alcohol
ever could. His warm breath tickled her neck, sending a shiver
through her body. He trailed little kisses up her neck to her ear
and along her jawline. Mac gripped the seat as if she’d rocket out
of it any second.

In moment of tequila-fueled boldness, she
slid her hand up his thigh to his crotch to that impressive bulge
in his pants. She stroked up and down, and he groaned, deep and
guttural like an animal in dire need of doing the nasty. With a
trembling hand, Mac put a hand on his fly, unbuttoned and unzipped
his pants.

“Bruiser?”

“Yeah?” Bruiser lifted his head and watched
her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“What I said about your size during the
photo shoot in the barn…I was just toying with you. Even limp, you
were impressive.”

“I know.” He pressed his lips against the
hollow behind her ear. She tilted her head to expose more of the
sensitive skin to his lips. “Honey, I can show you impressive all
night long.”

“I bet you could.”

Bruiser reached for her and toyed with the
tiny buttons on her top.

“Here?” A thin layer of panic crept into her
voice, and she attempted to squelch it. Be bold, be daring. Just do
it. Live life on the edge. Just this once.

“No one can see in the windows. Too
dark.”

When Mac offered no protest, Bruiser bent
his head, concentrating on the task before him—getting her naked in
an SUV on a ferry. They might both be fucking nuts, but Mac had
turned the corner on caring and entered the realm of careless.
Obviously, Bruiser’s vast experience undressing women paid off, as
he unbuttoned every last button in record time. Pushing the thin
material off her shoulders, he stared at her black lace bra, licked
his lips, and groaned, deep and guttural.

“I’m sorta small.” She couldn’t help
apologizing.

“Not to me. You’re perfect.” He stared at
her boobs like a running back seeing open field to the end zone.
She wanted him in her end zone. Bad. Fucking bad. Crazy-assed,
need-you-more-than-I-need-my-sanity bad.

Bruiser hesitated, his eyes still on her
chest. “Mac, I don’t want to ruin a good friendship.”

“It’s okay, I don’t expect anything
afterward.”

His brows knit together, almost as if that
weren’t the answer he wanted. “What do you expect, sweetheart?” He
leaned in, his low, husky voice in her ear and his expensive
cologne mingled with hardcore masculinity.

“I expect you—” Mac hesitated, drew in a
deep breath and took a chance. “I don’t expect a tomorrow. I don’t
expect a relationship. I just want you with me tonight.”

Mac slipped her hand under his waistband and
lowered her head toward his crotch, committing her words to action.
She slipped into insanity, ready to give Bruiser a blow job on
ferry so packed the ferry workers couldn’t have squeezed in a kid’s
tricycle.

And damn, did she not give a shit.

Chapter 10

Bruiser held his breath and sent up a prayer
of thanks to whatever saints listened to a man thanking them for
getting him laid. He wanted Mac so much his hands shook and his
heart slammed against his rib cage, while his dick begged for sweet
mercy. He buried his fingers in her hair so she wouldn’t notice
what a pathetic, needy mess he was.

Mac was about to give new meaning to a ferry
ride. He’d never see these white and green travelling highways the
same again. Mac gave a satisfied sigh as she studied the bulge in
his shorts. Then she lowered her head, her silky hair trailing
across his belly and hips. Bruiser laid his head against the
headrest, his breath coming in short gasps, and his heart hammering
in his chest.

He lifted his hips—ever helpful—and Mac
pulled down his pants, easing some of the pressure, but not nearly
enough. Lowering her head once again, Mac fastened her teeth onto
the elastic waistband of his underwear, yanking downward until his
cock sprang free. Her warm breath feathered his bare skin, and his
dick throbbed, a painful, need-wrenching throb. He damn well needed
a little recreation between the sheets—or was that
seats
?—with this particular woman.

Hell, this woman had ruined his appetite for
other women for the past few weeks, as if this thing between them
might be more than mere recreation. Intentional or not, she’d
teased him all afternoon in that sexy skirt with those shapely legs
of hers and that form-fitting little top. Despite his insistence
that he liked the old Mac better, he sure as hell appreciated this
Mac. In fact, he was so worked up, all he could think of was
getting her horizontal in his bed. This damn SUV with its big-assed
console didn’t leave room for anything but a good blow job. Not
that he was complaining.

Her soft, heavenly lips touched the tip of
his penis, and she fisted her hand around his shaft. All rational
thought dived into the dumpster in his mind—better than a gutter,
he guessed, but pretty much the same difference because all he
could think were dirty thoughts of how good her mouth felt going
down on him and how good it’d feel to reciprocate.

She licked the length of his penis, then
swirled her tongue around it as she made a circuit back to the
soft, bulbous head. When she sucked a drop of pre-cum from the tip,
the top of his head just about blew off. Then she went down on him.
Talk about blowing off, and only not his head. He groaned and
writhed on the seat, pushing his hips upward to meet the thrusts of
her hand. Nothing had ever felt this good. At least nothing he
could recall in his current state of mind. Not that he had a mind
or even a state. She’d melted him down to raw hormones and
lust.

Oh, God. He rolled his head back and forth
and closed his eyes, massaging her silky blonde hair with his
fingers while applying pressure to lower her head further down. If
she deep-throated him, he’d have a heart attack.

Mac lifted her head upward and gazed at him,
her eyes half-lidded and burning with lust. “I don’t know how to
take you deep,” she admitted, her face coloring at her words.

“Just do what feels right. Because anything
you do feels good to me.” He grinned, happy she wasn’t an expert.
The thought struck a possessive chord as foreign to him as shopping
in a thrift store.

She lowered her head again and took him a
little deeper, bobbing her head up and down on his shaft while he
shook like an unbalanced washing machine. Any second he’d empty his
load.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, grinding his
teeth until his jaw ached.

“I want to taste you.” She licked him again
and sucked on him.

He gripped the steering wheel. His body
spasmed while she drove him into temporary oblivion. He emptied
himself into her sweet, hot mouth. Mac swallowed, then licked up
the rest.