Dream Maker (Dream Team 1)

She then let go, jerked away, put her fingers to her mouth and muttered, “Oh God, what’s the matter with me? I’m so sorry.”

But through this, Mag turned to the stove, shoved the eggs from the flame, turned off the burner, then went right back to her.

“Do over,” he said.

She dropped her hand. “Wh-what?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” he asked.

Her gaze dropped to his chest, shot up, but stopped at his mouth before it seemed she had to force it to his eyes.

She wanted to kiss him.

“Do over,” he repeated, reaching to her, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer.

“Mag—” she began.

“Danny,” he growled, angled his head and took her mouth.

After her first attempt, he was surprised she opened right away.

Even surprised, he didn’t let that opportunity slip.

He slid his tongue inside.

She tasted of coffee and woman, her soft hair all around his hand…

Shit.

This was a bad idea.

Strike that.

It was a fantastic idea.

Terrible timing.

He started to end the kiss, moving his hand to the side of her neck to gently press her away.

But she latched on again, this time to either side of his head, before she plunged her fingers in his hair, curled them around at the back and held him to her, tipping her head and sucking his tongue deep.

Jesus.

Nice.

Evie pressed close.

Mag rounded her with his free arm, pulled her closer and took the kiss deeper.

She whimpered and fisted her hand in his hair, her nails scraping scalp.

He felt that in all the important places and growled his approval down her throat.

They went at it and Mag was feeling it in his cock, which she’d fit her hips to, and his hand was heading for her ass when he heard a key scraping the lock at the door.

He instantly broke the kiss, shoved her behind him, and wondered what the fuck he was thinking that he didn’t have weapons hidden all over the house, just as the door opened and Lottie strode in.

Tex strode in after her.

And behind Tex came near on every damn Rock Chick that still lived in Denver.

Lottie looked pissed.

Tex looked for Evie.

And the Rock Chicks looked ready to rumble.

“Fuck,” he muttered.Chapter EightFor Now. And for Later.EvieI didn’t know what was happening.

“Are you fucking joking with this shit?” Lottie shouted, throwing a hand my way.

Wait, I did know.

I had been kissing Mag, but now Lottie was there, shouting, a large man with wild hair and an insanely long beard that was not lumbersexual, it was ZZ Top, was staring at me, and Mag’s apartment was suddenly filled with beautiful women.

“Mac—” Mag started.

“Don’t ‘Mac’ me,” Lottie retorted. “She’s in your shirt and you’re in barely anything!”

I could hear her.

I could see the room filled with people.

But all I could feel was Mag’s warm, hard body against mine, taste his tongue in my mouth, feel his lips moving over mine, the heady smell of morning man in my nostrils, the feel of his soft hair on my fingers.

And all I could think was: toothbrush and toothpaste.

He’d been off, talking to my brother, trying to figure out what was going on, how to protect me from it, all of this after I’d said such horrible things to him.

And on the way there, or back, he thought to stop and grab me a toothbrush and toothpaste.

Of course, I spent a good deal of time tossing and turning last night, thinking of my apartment, how I was going to bounce back from this fiasco, the danger my brother was in, the danger I might be in.

But I had to admit, most of the night, I spent thinking of Mag telling me to hit him, scream at him, take it out on him, offering me a place to stay, going out to talk to Mick and coming back with the tools I needed to keep my teeth healthy.

“You think now’s the time to make your move?” Lottie demanded, forcing me back to the moment, and I saw she was flinging her arm again. This time, to the people she brought with her. “We swung by her pad this morning. And except for Stella getting her place blown up, this shit is as real as we’ve seen.”

Stella getting her place blown up?

Who was Stella?

And…

Her place was blown up?

“We’ll talk later about how you feel about the moves I make,” Mag said in a voice I’d never heard him use. It was low, dangerous and angry. Admittedly, I didn’t know him all that well, but I hoped it wasn’t oft-used in his tonal arsenal. “For now, I’ll be having that key back.”

“It’s Mo’s key,” she returned.

“It’s my key seein’ as I bought this place from him, and you’ll be leaving that key before you and your posse turn your asses around and get the fuck out,” Mag shot back.