The Fall of Shane MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 4)

Pasting a cool smile on her face, she turned to him. She needed to be alone here, she decided. A few minutes alone, and maybe she would get beyond that block. “It’s amazingly sexist of me, but I didn’t expect to find it so tidy and organized. You know, the cheerful bachelor, living alone, entertaining willing women and poker buddies.”

This time he lifted a brow. “I don’t usually entertain them at the same time.” He handed her the glass. “My mother was pretty fierce about keeping the kitchen clean. You eat here, you cook here. It’s like making sure the milk house is sanitized.”

“The milk house.” It had a charming sound to it. “I’d like to see that next time.”

“Come by about 6:00 a.m., you can see it in operation. Don’t you want to take off that jacket? It’s warm.” And he wanted to see what was under it.

“I’m fine.” She moved to the back window. “Lovely view. All the windows I’ve looked out of since I’ve been here have lovely views. Do you get immune to them?”

“No. You get proprietary.” To please himself, he skimmed a finger over the back of her neck. She went as still as a stone. “You’ve got pretty hair, Rebecca. At least, what there is of it. Of course, chopped off like this, it shows the line of your neck, and it’s a nice neck. Long and white and smooth.”

She recited a chunk of the periodic table in her head, so that she was calm when she turned to him. Thinking it a defense rather than a challenge, she cocked a brow, and her lips curved into an amused smile.

“Are you hitting on me, farm boy?”

Damned if he didn’t want a piece of her, he realized with more than a little irritation. He particularly wanted that piece that made her voice so cool and smug.

“I’ve got a curiosity.” He set his glass on the counter behind her, then took hers and placed it beside his. In a smooth, well-practiced move, he caged her in. “Don’t you?”

“Scientists are innately curious.”

He could smell her now, clean, clear soap and a hint of citrus. “How about an experiment?”

She refused to fumble, to stammer, to let him see even for an instant that she was in way, way over her head. “Of what sort?”

“Well, I do this…”

Chapter 4

He circled her waist with his hands—a surprisingly small waist—then ran them up her ribs, over to skim up her back. The punch of arousal wasn’t particularly surprising. He’d certainly felt it before. But he hadn’t expected quite the force of this, not with her.

Still, he enjoyed it, slid comfortably into it. When she didn’t object, in fact didn’t move a muscle, he aligned his body to hers until he felt her curves—not much in the way of curves—meet the angles of his.

Suddenly he really wanted to kiss her, to have a good, solid taste of that mouth. Not simply because it was female and thus desirable, but because it was Rebecca’s and set in firm, almost disapproving lines.

He enjoyed being disapproved of.

But when he started to lower his head, she lifted her chin, just enough to put him off-balance.

“An experiment? What’s your hypothesis?”

“Huh?”

“Your hypothesis,” she repeated, relieved to have interrupted him. She’d have time enough to brace now, she decided. Time to prepare herself. “Your theory as to the outcome of your experiment.”

“Theory, huh?” He kept his eyes on her mouth. It was a truly fascinating pair of lips, if a man took the time to really look at them. “How about mutual enjoyment? Is that good enough, Doc?”

“Sure.” She was careful not to gulp. It would have been embarrassing, and certainly would have ruined her attempt at cool sophistication. “Why not? You want to kiss me, farm boy. Go ahead.”

“I was going to.” But he bypassed her mouth, just for a moment, and closed his teeth lightly over her jaw. She had the cutest little pointed chin.

Then he touched his lips to hers, just a whisper. He always liked to draw the pleasure out, for himself and the woman involved. He nibbled at them, testing their shape, their softness, and found them delightfully full, delightfully moist and giving.

Perhaps that was why he stopped thinking long enough to lose himself, to sink into that soft, wet mouth. To trace it with his tongue, tease her cool lips apart and explore.

Dark and deep was her taste, yet oddly familiar. He wondered how it could be that he was kissing her for the first time, yet he could be sure, deadly sure, that he had experienced her taste before. And the familiarity was impossibly exciting, desperately arousing.

She was so tiny. Taut little muscles, slim back, small, firm breasts yielding erotically against him. And the flavor of her, a cool, damp meadow, a quiet, shadowy glade, stirred his blood. Stirred it so that several dizzy minutes passed before he realized she hadn’t moved. She wasn’t touching him, her lips weren’t sliding under his. She had made not one single sound.