Free Spin the Bottle by Rhian Cahill

black dress had been replaced with a skin-coloured one. But unlike the previous dress, this one didn’t coat her body like paint. This one flowed, skimming over her curves like hot fudge on ice cream. He licked his lips and shifted position so she wouldn’t see the hard-on that had sprung to life the second she moved into sight. Damn, she was sex on legs. Long, smooth, tan legs left bare by her mid-thigh-length hem.
    She wandered over to where she’d kicked off her fuck-me heels and bent to slip them on. Her hem inched higher, giving him a flash of the silky skin on her inner thighs. He knew how soft that area was. Knew how it slid beneath his fingertips with tantalizing ease. Mac swallowed, his throat going dry as he remembered having his hand on that supple flesh earlier. God, she was a distraction. He’d entered her room with the intention of finding out how her dress had been torn, not to think about stripping her out of it.
    Giving himself a mental shake, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, Mac continued to watch her move. “Tell me what happened.”
    She jerked, just a small jolt before her body went perfectly still. He studied her closely, didn’t want to miss any telltale twitch or tick that may indicate she wasn’t being honest with him. Mac had no doubt she would try to slip a pair of rose-coloured glasses over the incident. She’d do everything she could to minimise what had happened. Her chest rose as she sucked in a breath and brought her gaze around to meet his.
    “We were talking, but Aaron obviously has had too much to drink and he stumbled.” Her eyes skittered away for a second but she pulled her shoulders back and met his gaze once more. “Honestly, it was my own fault for trying to stop him from falling.”
    Mac narrowed his eyes. She was lying. Angry at her for protecting that shallow prick, he jumped to his feet and stormed across the room. He brought his face within a breath of hers. “Bullshit!”
    Her eyes went wide and he watched as fear, guilt and finally anger slashed across their sparkling depths.
    “Don’t lie to me,” he growled.
    “You’re forgetting one thing, Mac. I don’t owe you anything, lie or not. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She punctuated her final word with a finger poke to his chest.
    With her shoes on they were eye to eye, and the fire shooting from hers did some seriously weird shit to his equilibrium. He’d always liked a good battle. He wasn’t a brilliant lawyer for nothing, and regardless of Lillian’s earlier accusation, he hadn’t gotten where he was by riding his best friend’s coattails. He liked to fight and hated to lose. Blood rushed through his veins, the thrill of combat causing an effect he’d never dealt with in the courtroom or anywhere else for that matter. His pants grew snug over his throbbing erection. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, but Mac refused to let it form completely. Heaven forbid Lilli work out he was getting off on their clash of wills.
    “Yes. You do.” He wrapped his fingers around her nape. “And this is why.”
    Mac slammed his mouth on hers. His tongue immediately thrust out to force its way between her lips. This wasn’t a kiss. It was a claim. He took advantage of her gasp and pushed his way inside. Heat. Slick molten pleasure waited in the dark and he plunge deeper. Lilli held her body stiff in his arms, and everything he had, everything he was, wanted her to yield. To hand herself over completely. Freely.
    He gripped her neck tighter, his fingers digging in, bringing her closer. Mac’s other hand curled around her waist, scrunched silky fabric in his fist. She moaned, and the soft sound vibrated across his tongue and slipped down his throat as he breathed it in—breathed her in. Want and need overtook him. He’d never get over the way she made him yearn with such intensity. No more than a look, a simple movement, and his body went