“Right. The rules. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
He sure seemed to be understanding and easy with whatever she wanted.I guess that blow job did the trick.“Right. The rules.”
“But I’m having a tough time hearing you. Could you sit next to me on the couch?” He patted the spot next to him. “Right here.”
“You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?” She sighed.
“Right. Difficult. But not hard.” He glanced down at his crotch. “You took care of that.”
She blushed. “Would you let it go already?”
“Not on your life, Cassandra.” He smiled. “Now lay it on me.”
***
Mack watched her debate with herself before sitting next to him on the couch. He had a tough time getting his brain back online again. The woman had come into his home, stalked him like a hungry tiger, then dropped to her knees and blown him.
A fucking blow job out of nowhere.
Who did that? And how could he get her to do that again?
He watched her mouth move, taken with her soft lips. She’d hugged him with that mouth. Stroked him with that tongue. And those firm, capable hands had cupped him and taken him to heaven without even trying.
God, I’m easy.
But it was her acknowledgment that soothed him after all. He was different. He meant something to her, and she didn’t know how to handle her feelings. Strong, confident, capable Cass had avoided talking to him because she’d been scared of how much she liked him.
Finally. The woman saw him as more than just a body to ride.
“Are you paying attention?”
“Yep.” He focused on her words, or at least he tried to. “Shannon is fierce, gorgeous, and proudly half-Korean with roots in San Francisco, so I can’t insult the city in any way, shape, or form. Jed met her while he was stationed there when in the Navy. They have twins who are precocious, and, yes, I do know what that means.”
“Right. Shannon might look sweet, but don’t mess with her family or her city.”
“Seattle?”
“Hello. San Francisco.”
He rolled his eyes. “Right. So even though she’s even shorter than you are, you’re saying I should be cautious of her iron fists?”
“Yes. And I’m not that small.”
Ha. Someone thought she was tall, though technically she only stood a few inches smaller than Mack. “Will she hit me if I don’t like her pot roast?”
“No, but I might.”
He grinned. “Fine. I won’t bad-mouth San Francisco, though I wouldn’t have even without your weird warnings. And I’ll love whatever she makes. I like food, and I’m a perfect guest. I’m polite to my hosts and know when to leave.”
“Well, you’ll be arriving and leaving when I do. Don’t be late.”
“Oh, so you want to go together?”
“No, I meant—”
“Great. We can take your car.”
She frowned. “Why not your car?”
