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I pull out and drop onto my back beside her. “Fun is one word for it.”
She props herself up on one elbow, looking pretty proud of herself. I’m not ready to admit how much power Macy Knight has over me. Instead of admitting something that will surely scare the fuck out of both of us, I reach for her and pull her into my arms.
Macy shimmies free of my hold and plants a firm kiss to my lips. “Thanks for the orgasms.” With those words, she hops off the bed and begins collecting her discarded clothes.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
Frustration wells instantly inside me because I know damn well what she’s doing. “Just stay here tonight, sweetheart.”
“No can do. Flynn is coming home in the morning. I promised I’d be there.”
Well hell. Her youngest brother, a smokejumper, is gone more than he’s home. Macy’s lucky to get to see him at all. I force myself out of bed and slip back into my pants. Reluctantly, I walk Macy to the door and pull her into my arms. She stands on tiptoes and presses her lips softly to mine. “Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Bye, Ryder.”
With those words, she slips out the door, leaving me and Gumby staring after her. I knew from the beginning that Macy Knight would not be an easy nut to crack, but I underestimated the amount of work this was going to take.
I look down at Gumby. “I’m all ears if you have any bright ideas.”
CHAPTER 11
Macy
“Step away from the frying pan,” Wyatt says in that official cop tone that comes so naturally to him in touch and go situations.
“I haven’t even turned the stove on.”
In his defense, my cooking skills have always sucked. I have been known to set the occasional kitchen fire. There’s a reason why Nadia and I came up with a comfortable arrangement where she does all the cooking and I stick to cleaning up the mess where there’s no hot burners or ovens involved.
I blame Ryder Stone.
If I wasn’t so buzzed on orgasm energy, I’d be blissfully asleep in my bed instead of restlessly awake and considering making breakfast I’ll surely burn.
“Hand it over.” Wyatt holds out his open palm until I slap the spatula into it.
I relent and move over so Wyatt can take over the cooking. Thor nudges me with his head until I give it a few scratches. I look at the Great Dane as if to say Where were you this morning? But the pup is more fixated on the pancake batter than my inquisition. “Where’s Flynn?”
“Flynn is right here.” My younger brother, still five years my senior, announces from the doorway. I run to his open arms and let him strangle me in a hug.
Flynn’s a smokejumper who’s often deployed to one forest fire or another. Sometimes he’s in Montana, sometimes he’s sent all over the country. He’s always the first to volunteer to leave. It’s why he technically lives with Wyatt. He’s only ever back long enough to need a bed for a couple of nights before he leaves again.
When I finally come up for air, I step back to give him the once over. He appears mostly unscathed aside from a familiar jagged scar on his forearm he acquired during a forest fire mission in Alaska. I pat him down anyway, as though that alone will reveal any wounds he’s hiding.
“Everything’s intact, Sissy,” he says, ruffling his hand through my hair and getting his fingers tangled in the process.
Damn sex hair. Damn orgasm brain. “I’m going to grab a shower so I don’t burn the house down with my presence in the kitchen,” I say, slipping past him in the doorway—not an easy feat since he fills it with those broad shoulders and brick house build.
“I thought I was the only one who got lucky last night,” Flynn calls after me.
“Shut up!”
I’m restless through my shower and all through breakfast. My nipples ache and my panties are soaked again. Damn that grumpy cowboy and his life-altering pleasuring skills. I hate that I’m craving more of him. Hate that I wish I’d stayed the night so he could ravage me again this morning. I hate even more that I’m already thinking up excuses to slip out of the house and head to the ranch early. Paps isn’t expecting me for at least a couple of hours, after his midmorning nap. I desperately need a distraction of the not-naked variety.
“You staying in town long?” I ask Flynn between bites. I dream about Wyatt’s pancakes when I’m eight hundred miles away, but this morning, I’m extra ravenous. Turns out I worked up an appetite last night. Who knew sex could double as cardio when done right?
Flynn scoots out of his chair and carries his empty plate to the sink. Before he drops it in, he lets Thor lick the syrup. I open my mouth to scold him, but he cuts me off. “Headed out first thing tomorrow morning, actually.”
