Free Messing With Mac by Jill Shalvis Page A

hesitate a moment.
    Which is how he tackled her to the patch of grass behind her, holding her down with his big, warm, strong body sprawled over hers.
    She couldn’t believe it, but he’d gotten the best of her. Her, Taylor Wellington, a woman no one got the better of, ever.
    Thankfully the wood fence across the front of her property, while mostly decoration, was high enough to now block them from view of pedestrian traffic, so she didn’t have to think about that humiliation.
    Lifting his face, Mac smiled a little wickedly down into hers, water raining off him onto her skin. Then he gathered her hands in one of his and yanked them above her head. One strong thigh insinuated its way between hers, pegging her between the soft, cool grass and the not even close to soft, definitely not cool body of Mac.
    â€œGet off me,” she hissed, wriggling, trying to free herself. “We’re right out front, anyone could—”
    â€œCould what? Could see this? Good. ”
    And eyes burning with intent, he dipped his head, covering her mouth with his.

8
    T AYLOR GAVE one startled squeak, but then as sensations bombarded her—his hands on hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his deliciously big, hard, wet body holding hers down, his powerful thigh holding hers open—she melted against him like lava. Her fingers curled against his, her body arching up to meld to every inch of his. And his mouth… Oh, his mouth.
    She hadn’t been able to think the first time they’d kissed, could barely think now, but he tasted like heaven. And now that she was thinking it, fully appreciating it, she realized something else. He knew just what to do with that mouth, knew how to nibble the corners of hers until she wanted to moan for more, knew to start out with little coaxing strokes of his tongue, then nip at her bottom lip with his teeth, soothing it over with a soft, sucking motion that whipped her into a desperate, impatient, wild thing, a wild thing with absolutely no shame, not to mention thoughts of rules or propriety.
    Needing to put her hands on him, she flexed hersbeneath his, and he let her go. Oh yes, she thought, mindlessly arching up to him, running her now free hands over his wet shoulders, down his wet spine, oh yes, this is what she’d needed this morning when she’d woken up so inexplicably…sad.
    This. Him. Now.
    With a little sigh of pure unadulterated pleasure, she hugged him even closer, and wanting to give back as good as she was getting, she sucked his tongue into her mouth.
    She was rewarded by a ragged groan ripped from deep in his chest, and felt his hands slip beneath her, cupping her bottom in his hands so that he could more fully seat himself between her thighs. At the feel of his erection, she whimpered in helpless delight, and squirmed, trying to get more of it.
    Then he slowly lifted his head, her lips clinging as they parted because she didn’t want it to end.
    â€œTaylor.” His voice was satisfactorily thick. Raspy. And looking down into her pouting face, he let out a soft sound of desire and stroked her jaw. “God, you’re beautiful.”
    The grass beneath her was cool, and damp. Above them the sun was warm and dry, chasing the chill away from their wet clothes. But now, without Mac’s mouth on hers, she could think again. Thoughts like her mascara was probably smeared, and that he’deaten off all her gloss. That she was wrinkling, and probably staining one of her favorite skirts.
    Or that she lay on her back, legs spread, heart wide open and vulnerable, to a man.
    It was that last that made her close her eyes.
    With a sigh, Mac rolled off her. On his back, staring up at the sky, he reached for her hand.
    â€œWhat was that?” she whispered, eyes still closed, her breathing not even close to normal. But she let him entwine his fingers with hers, and gripped them back. “What the hell was that?”
    â€œWhatever it was,