“Sometimes spiders like to hide between the sheets.”
My eyes closed, hand shaking as I pressed it to my forehead.
“You mean I have to check my bedding for arachnids every night?”
He nodded. “Boots as well, and gloves. Basically, anywhere small and dark?—”
“I want to go home.” That came out a little more impassioned than I meant it to. Voice wavering, it felt like now that homesickness hit me hard. “I thought I could handle the spider thing, but I can’t. I can’t, Troy. Big spiders belong out inthe wilds, eating bugs and stuff, not inside your house. Those hairy legs… All those eyes… The way they skitter…” A whole body shiver passed through me. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” When I opened my eyes, he was standing in front of me. A hand moved, and he watched it like it was someone else’s, until it landed on my shoulder. The warm weight, the firm squeeze, it helped settle me. “What do the Americans say on the TV? Momma didn’t raise no quitter? You’re no quitter, Mackenzie.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but right then, I wanted to clasp at his hand like the lifeline it felt like it was. He pulled away in the next moment, heading for the door.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “And if anything of the eight legged variety sneaks into your room, you just yell out and I’ll come running.” His brows creased slightly. “Or two legged.”
“Yes, sir.”
I performed a mocking little salute, trying to fake being cool about this situation until I could make it. Troy didn’t smile. A light flared to life in those blue eyes, one that had him staring at me fixedly.
“Don’t call me that.”
Sensing a sore spot, I couldn’t help but poke at it.
“Oh, so what do you prefer? Sheet inspector? Spider handler?”
“Pretty sure you don’t want to find out what I’m thinking, Mackenzie.”
The door clicked shut behind him, stopping me in my tracks. Heart pounding, muscles quivering with a strange energy, adrenaline had me ready to run.
But was that out of the room and across the hall, or away from it?
So, I might’ve flashed my boss, but I had a feeling that was just the opening act.
And I didn’t know how I felt about that.
Chapter 8
Troy
I was in hell.
Firstly, getting up before the sun rose in the morning sucked shit, but somehow this was so much worse. In my dreams, I was right back at Mackenzie’s bedroom door, but instead of a scream, a voice ushered me in. When the door swung open, it didn’t reveal a scared and vulnerable woman, but this.
Her naked, not hiding for a second. Every single curve was on display, luring me forward. I was helpless to resist, reeled in like a hooked fish. My hand went to her jaw, treasuring the softness of her cheek as my thumb rubbed against it before trailing down to her mouth, only to see her lips part.
Yeah, I liked that a lot.
“I’m not sure if I’m dressed appropriately for moving hay, sir.” Gods, that fucking word coming from her was like a firm hand squeezing my dick. I didn’t want to tie Mackenzie up, have her assume the position or anything, but there was something about a woman surrendering to you, making you responsible for her pleasure, that just did it for me. “But maybe we could find something else to do?”
That was all the encouragement dream me needed.
Picking her up, carrying her over to her bed, I dropped her onto the mattress before falling to my knees. Parting those rounded thighs, I glanced up to see if she was OK with this, only to find Mackenzie smiling down at me.
“Something you need?”
“You have no idea how much.”
That came out as a throaty growl that surprised even me. Conscious me was mostly pissed off or frustrated by the American girl, but in my dreams? I kissed my way up one plump thigh, wanting to sink into all that softness, but something else drew me forward. Wet, slick, salty, I groaned at the first taste. Then her hand went to my head, cradling the back before tightening her hold, making sure I couldn’t get away.
