Page 20 of When The Dust Settles

“Yeah. What do you—Zach, move, lemme in there.”

“Mac, I can take care of—”

“Just slide over.”

“What are you doing?”

I heard a throat clearing, and both of Zach’s hands were replaced by a bigger one sinking into my hair, massaging my scalp. Another touched my side, warm and strong and callused, languorously sliding over my skin.

“Mac?” Rand asked.

“What?” he answered gruffly.

“Something you wanna tell me?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” Rand said, and the cleaning was rougher, faster, but it was fine because it didn’t hurt in the least.

Lulled by the languid stroking of my hair, I was asleep seconds later.

“GLENN.”

I jolted awake, but a gentle hand on my shoulder quieted me, and when I looked up, squinting in the light, found myself staring into a gorgeous set of quicksilver eyes.

“Maclain?” I said, making a conscious decision to use his full name to keep whatever warm, quiet intimacy we had between us going. He was there, with me, beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off his big hard body, and because I’d always dreamed of having him in my space, and now he was, I didn’t want to do anything to disturb the delicate peace.

He cleared his throat. “Since when?”

“What?” I croaked.

“Why ‘Maclain’?” he asked, his voice a lazy, sexy rumble.

I held his gaze. “You’re treating me nice, so I figured I shouldn’t use the name of the guy who hates me.”

“So Mac hates you?”

I nodded.

“No,” he corrected with a sigh. “I don’t hate you.”

“Seems like it.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice bottoming out as he leaned down closer to me. “From now on you use Maclain so you know the difference.”

I smiled. “That sounds good.”

“So.” He sighed, stretching out beside me on his side. “How ya feel?”

“I’m all right. How long was I out?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“I can ride,” I assured him, getting ready to sit up.

His hand on my shoulder kept me where I was. “Just lie there for a bit longer. We’re settled in for the night already. We can’t push these folks like we can our own.”

That made sense, but I would have argued that I needed to get up and help do whatever, but he reached out and pushed my hair out of my face. I had no idea something so simple could make my heart race and my pulse jump, and even though both of those sensations, reactions, were brand new, they also made total sense. While half of me had always been on the lookout for a man just like Stef—small and delicate and beautiful—the idea of Mac throwing me up against the side of the barn and having his wicked way with me had been just as, if not even more, appealing. I was afraid of submitting, but there had never been any doubt to whom I would consider going ass up for. I had thought about Mac’s hands all over me many a time.