Days Like This (31 page)

She blew out the match, dropped
it into the saucer, and turned to study him.  He was so beautiful, all lines
and angles, lean and lanky in tight jeans, his hair an unholy mess as he popped
a cassette into the tape deck.  He pushed the button and adjusted the volume.  The
music started—Marvin and Tammi singing
Your Precious Love
—and he turned
to look at her, his expression solemn. 

In the flickering candlelight,
they studied each other, both of them swaying in time to that sweet, sensual
rhythm, both of them aware that this night held some measure of significance,
although she couldn’t explain that significance to him when she could barely
understand it herself.  He would think she was crazy if she told him that
somewhere along the line, she’d fallen head over heels in love with him in a big,
bad adult way that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the feelings she’d had for
Danny.  He would think she was crazy if she said that despite fifteen months of
marriage, tonight felt like her wedding night in a way that their real wedding night
had not.

Still swaying in time with the
music, he slowly crossed the room to her and said, “Mrs. MacKenzie.”

Joy blossomed somewhere deep
inside her.  It bubbled up, spread through her extremities, and poured out of
her in the form of delighted laughter.  “Mr. MacKenzie,” she said.

“I really like those fuck-me
shoes.”

She glanced down at the screaming
red stilettos that raised her to a full five-foot-four.  “Why, thank you, kind
sir.”

“If you’d like to, y’know, keep ‘em
on while we’re engaged in, um…marital relations…I wouldn’t exactly mind.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Marital
relations?”

“I didn’t want to offend your
delicate sensibilities.”

Still swaying, she said, “Isn’t
this our song?”

“One of ‘em, anyway.  Would you care
to dance?”

She stepped into his arms, pressed
her cheek to his shoulder, and let out a deep, shuddering breath.  Near her
ear, he was softly singing along with Marvin and Tammi in a perfectly normal
voice that bore little resemblance to the one he’d used for his earlier duet
with Mick.  She loved it when he sang to her.  There was something so intimate
about it, so sweetly romantic.  So classic MacKenzie.  She locked her arms
around his slender waist, closed her eyes, and just let it take her.  The
night, the music, the magic, the man.

He stopped singing.  “There’s
something different about you tonight.  I noticed it as soon as I got off the
plane.”

“It’s the shoes.  They make me four
inches taller.”

“So that’s it.  No wonder I
barely recognized you.”

She tilted her head back until
she could see his face.  “So who did you think you were getting intimately
acquainted with down there in the kitchen?”

He raised both eyebrows.  “Was
that you?  You know what they say about all cats being black in the dark.  I
thought it was my other wife.”

“There are no other wives,
MacKenzie.  There will be no other wives.  There is only one wife.”

“How could I forget that?  What’d
you say your name was?”

In response, she ran both hands
down his backside, groping him unapologetically, finally leaving her hands
resting there on that sweet little butt.  “Does this jog your memory?”

“Oh.  That wife.”

“That’s right, Flash.”  She
released his butt, reached up and drew his mouth down to hers.  “That wife.”

This time, there was nothing
remotely restrained about the kiss.  The music forgotten, the verbal foreplay
abandoned, they came together like heat-seeking missiles, his body pressed hard
against hers, hands stroking, caressing, exploring territory both familiar and
enthralling.  Excitement hummed inside her and she trembled with anticipation, her
tongue tangled with his in an exquisite dance as they swallowed each other’s
breath, each other’s moans, breathed in each other’s essence in a scorching
need to merge and become one.

He ran his hands up and down her
back, broke away, said against her shoulder, “How does this thing come off,
babe?  I can’t get to—”

“Over my head.”

He peeled the dress up and off,
tossed it aside, leaving her naked except for the shoes.  Never in her life had
she stood in front of a man like this, naked except for a pair of red stiletto-heel
fuck-me shoes.  He was looking at her with a wolfish grin she’d never seen on
his face before.  She should have been embarrassed.  Shouldn’t she?  Instead,
she felt empowered.  Was it the shoes?  Did they hold some heretofore unknown
secret power?  She took his hands, those magical hands that could play her body
with the same skill and finesse they employed to tease heated sounds from an
electric guitar, and placed them on her breasts.

He was a fast learner.  He cupped
and lifted, squeezed and brushed and teased.  “You like?” he said.

“Yes. 
Oh, yes
.”

Stroking tenderly, he said, “I am
so
not leaving you again.”

She let out a sound that was half
laugh, half sob.  “You leave me like that again, MacKenzie, I swear to God I’ll
stab you until you’re dead.”

“Bloodthirsty wench.”

“Lecherous perv.”

“You are so damn hot.  Have I
ever mentioned how hot you are?”  He pressed a kiss to the swell of her
breast.  “These are so perfect.”

“They’re too small.”

“Are you crazy, Fiore?  They’re
just right.  You haven’t noticed how they get my engines humming?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.”  Her own engines
were humming quite nicely, too.  What he was doing to her should have been a
crime.  Surely anything that felt this good must be illegal.  “Flash?”

He was a little distracted, so it
took him some time to respond.  “Yeah?”

Fumbling with his belt buckle,
she said breathlessly, “I want you now.  Right now.”

“Right now?” He circled one hard
little peak with his tongue, sending her shooting off into space.  “Are you
sure about that?”

She pulled the belt free and
dropped it on the floor.  “Are you kidding?  I was ready before you got off the
plane.”

He let out a soft snort of
laughter.  “Me, too.  So you’re ready to get this party started?”

She unbuttoned his jeans, yanked
the zipper down.  “I’m ready to close the sale.”

“Oh, baby, it makes me so hot when
you talk like that.”

“Just wait until you see what else
I can do.”  She tugged at his pants, began working them down his hips.

“Whoa, woman, slow down! 
Amputation by zipper doesn’t sound like something I want to experience.”

“No sense of adventure.  None at
all.”

“Sadly, no.”  He worked himself
free, shrugged the pants down, kicked his way out of them.  “Not when it comes
to a possible amputation of one of my favorite appendages.”

She shoved the army shirt off his
shoulders and dragged it down his arms.  “
One of
your favorite
appendages?”

“Okay, fine.  My favorite
appendage.  Are you happy now?”

“Absolutely.”  She caught the hem
of his tee shirt, tugged it up, peeled it off over his head, tossed it on the
floor next to the army shirt.  “Now I’ve got you naked.  And it’s my favorite
appendage, too.”

“God, I love it when you talk
dirty.”

She closed both hands over the
aforementioned appendage.  He felt thick and hot and wonderful.   Tightening
her grip, she stroked him gently.  “Just look at you, Flash!  All big and hard
and ready to rock & roll.”

His eyes were closed, his
expression rapturous.  “Oh, baby, keep doing what you’re doing, and you’re
gonna send me right into the stratosphere.”

“Poppa likes it when Momma
touches him like this?”

“Poppa’s spent the last six weeks
dreaming about Momma touching him like this.”

“Momma’s planning on doing a
whole lot more than touching.”

His eyelids fluttered open.  “Is
that something I can help you with?”

“We should definitely explore
that possibility.”  Releasing him, she placed a hand flat against his chest and
gave him a not-so-gentle nudge.  “Bed.  Now.”

Inching backward, he raised both
eyebrows.  “Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”

“Keep moving.”

“What the hell happened while I
was out there working my fingers to the bone every night?”

The backs of his knees hit the
edge of the mattress.  She gave him another shove, and he sat down hard.  She
followed him, knelt astride him and took his face between her hands.  He tilted
his head and they studied each other by flickering candlelight.  “Hey, there, handsome,”
she said tenderly.

His hands settled on her bare
rump, and his beautiful green eyes went all soft and melty.  “Hey, there, my gorgeous,
spectacular woman.”

“I missed you so much.”

He gave her one of those grins,
the kind that melted her all the way to the marrow.  “How much?” he said.

She moved her hips closer and,
eyes locked with his, aligned their bodies precisely.  “This much,” she said,
and lowered herself onto his sleek, hot hardness.

He groaned, and she let out a
raw, exultant cry.  She’d needed this so bad.  “Oh, Flash,” she breathed.

He thrust into her, slow and
deliberate.  “You like this?” he whispered.

“Oh, yes.”

“More?”

“Yes.”
  The word floated
out of her like a prayer.

“Tell me what you want.  Anything
you want, it’s yours.”

“Everything,” she said.  “I want
everyth—
ohmigod
.”

Hoarsely, he said, “Babe?”

“What?”

“Wrap your legs around me.”

Still on her knees, she pondered
the logistics.  He solved her dilemma by withdrawing.  “No!” she protested.  “Come
back!”

“It’s okay.  Just hang on.  Watch
the shoes, they’re deadly.”  Together, they managed the awkward rearrangement
of limbs, until her feet, still in the four-inch heels, were planted on either
side of his hips.  He came back to her then, filled her slowly, exquisitely,
deeply.  Wrapped his hands around her ankles.  “I could get used to this,” he
said.

She let out a burst of laughter. 
“Oh,” he said.  “You think it’s funny?”

“Not us.  The shoes.”

He cocked an eyebrow.  “You mean
you didn’t know it was the shoes that turned me on?”

“Are you saying that I might as
well not be here, MacKenzie?”

“Well…I don’t think I’d go that
far.”

She brushed a single curl away
from his face.  “My lunatic.”

He kissed her knuckles.  “Better
fasten your seatbelt, woman.  Because—”  He pressed a sweet kiss to the corner
of her mouth.  “—we are going for a ride.  You, me—”  He kissed her bare
shoulder, sending a shudder through her.  “—and those shoes.”

The playfulness fled as, arms locked
around his neck, knees gripping his hips, she followed where he led her.  Fluid
and boneless, she rose and fell to his rhythm, worshiping that hot, slick, hard
part of him that hammered relentlessly in and out of her.  There was no world
but him, nothing but his hot breath upon her face, nothing but those narrow
hips driving her to a place beyond the boundaries of her mind.  In some part of
her, she was vaguely aware of the harsh, guttural sounds emanating from both of
them, of her shock at the knowledge that those noises were coming from her own
throat.  Intensely aware that the sounds he was making excited her beyond
belief.  Shuddering, sobbing, gasping, beyond speech, beyond control, she
closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and chased the rapture.

It didn’t take long.  They exploded
together in a hot, frantic, sticky, screaming conflagration.  Held each other,
breathless, through the aftershocks.  He fell back against the bed, gasping and
barely coherent.  “Holy mother of God, woman,” he croaked.  “Now that I’ve seen
the kind of welcome home I get, I might have to leave more often.”

“Over my dead body.”

“And what a godawful shame that
would be.”  His hands roamed over her naked rump, found a comfortable spot, and
stayed there.  “We’ll be keeping this body alive and kicking for a long, long
time.”

She wiggled around, rearranged her
legs again, careful not to impale him with those four-inch stiletto heels. 
Finally found her sweet spot, and pressed her head against his shoulder.  Brushing
the hair back from her face, she said, “I’ll have you know that I bought the
most beautiful red lace panties I’ve ever seen.  Do you have any idea how far
outside my comfort zone that is?  I’ve never worn red lace in my life.  But I
wore them for you.  And you stripped them off me in the kitchen, for God’s
sake.  In the dark!  It was a complete waste of money.”

His fingers tickled her
backside.  “Ah, baby, I’m sorry.  I’m an animal.”

“Yes, you are, MacKenzie.  You’re
a barbarian.  A cave man.  But you’re my cave man, so I suppose I’ll have to
keep you.”

“Sixty years.  That was the deal.”

“I really have to put up with
fifty-nine more years of this?”

“You didn’t read the fine print
on the contract?”

“Oh, I read it.  I’m just having
trouble believing I agreed to it.  And the dress!  I bought that for you, too,
and now it’s just cast aside and forgotten.”

“Cast aside, but definitely not forgotten. 
Maybe you should rescue it.  While you’re at it, you can model those red lace
panties for me.”

“And get you all hot and bothered
again?”

“Hey, we have six weeks of lost
time to make up for.  This was just round one.”

“Um, babe?  We can’t make it all
up in one night.”

And he grinned.  “Oh, ye of
little faith.”

She considered his words at
length.  Finally said, “Round one?”

“It’s been six weeks.  We had to
get the screaming out of the way.  Round two will be a lot quieter.  And a lot
slower.”

“I have to admit that I’m
intrigued.  Tell me more.”