And again, it was so unexpected that I didn't react soon enough. I didn't wrap my arms around her, slide them down her back, sink them into her ass, whip her around and change positions, take control, get her to the point of oblivion without having to use anything other than my lips on hers.
I didn't get to do anything but feel her lips press into mine, hard, hungry, demanding.
Because as soon as it started, it was over.
She was back on her flat feet; her hands were on her sides.
"I want you," she admitted, chin lifted, feeling no shame in saying those words, something uncommon and all the hotter. "But it is never going to happen."
With that, before I could reach for her, she turned and fucking ran down the street.
I might have been willing to charge up and catch her off-guard. I was not, however, the kind of man who would chase a woman down the street.
So I took a long, deep breath, had a heart-to-heart with my dick telling him to take his disappointment elsewhere, that this wasn't over, then made my way back across the street, throwing myself back into the work as a much-needed distraction.
One thing was for sure, if she didn't do the chickenshit thing and skip town, me and Scotti, yeah, we had some unfinished business.
Quite frankly, my curiosity was piqued.
Not just because she was beautiful.
Not even because there was sexual chemistry that neither of us was even going to pretend to deny.
No.
I wanted to pull her apart and see how the pieces worked. I wanted to know what made her tick the way she did. Then I wanted to put her right back into her own particular, perfect working order and enjoy the fuck out of her until the both of us were just piles of sweat and orgasm-sated, numb, tangled limbs.
Then we could go from there.
That seemed like a good jumping-off point.
All I knew was, me and Scotti, yeah, we were just getting started.FOURScottiOkay.
Alright.
At least it was over.
To be perfectly honest, there had been this strange, weighted feeling on me all week like something was going to happen, something I didn't plan for.
So walking out to be confronted by Mark Mallick standing at the backdoor, well, it might have been startling and arousing and unsettling, but at least it seemed to alleviate that strange black cloud following me around.
I mean, not that the whole interaction didn't bring with it a whole new rush of things to think and obsess about. But that was neither here nor there.
What I said was true.
I wanted him.
I wanted him in a way that shouldn't have been possible so soon, in a way that was completely irrational, wholly uncontrollable. It was pure, raw, primal, animal attraction. Our pheromones just... liked each other. It was as basic as that.
Sure, we were both attractive and were not legally blind and picked up on that as well, but hormones were the only explanation for what was going on with us from just two very short interactions.
He smelled good again too, damnit.
Couldn't he just smell like BO or Cool Water and ruin it for me? Or, better yet, BO trying to be masked with an over-abundance of Cool Water.
Oh yeah.
Pure libido killer right there.
That would have made life so much easier.
But no. Of course not. He showed up smelling like concrete grit, sweat, and just the oddest hint of that lubrication stuff they used on metal objects.
What can I say... I have always been sensitive to smells.
It was why I couldn't tolerate a house that used those godawful plug-in scent things or aerial sprays. Smells should be organic, case closed. There was nothing organic about Tropical Vanilla Rain Storm or whatever the hell names they slapped on the pretty, bright containers.
But I liked the way Mark Mallick smelled. Like a working man. Like someone who wasn't afraid to get dirty. Like a man who would be all too happy to get dirty with you.
Oh yeah.
Okay.
God, I needed to stop letting my mind run away with itself.
To be fair, I had tried to shut it down. I had been a royal bitch and used every tool in my kit that was quite well-stocked from having grown up around four teasing, pain in the ass, older brothers. Most guys would have backed right down.
But Mark Mallick was apparently not most guys.
Sure, my words landed like blows, true and brutal. But he took the hit and recovered, confronted me again. That was unexpected. Really, I thought I was going to get away before anything escalated.
I should have known better.
Then I went and kissed him.
You know, because I needed that to stress about every waking moment after it happened. Hell, I didn't really even get to enjoy it. It was kind of just... making a statement. It was over before I could really even appreciate it. Which sucked. Especially since my brain had been full of nothing but Mark Mallick sexy thoughts since then and I didn't even have anything juicy to focus on.