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I shake my head. “Your mother was very clear about what would and would not be happening under her roof.”
Mackenzie kisses the side of my neck. “Her rules are more like guidelines. And their bedroom is at the opposite end of the house from mine.” His nose grazes the spot just below my ear. “I can be very quiet.” He kisses me again, and it dissolves the little resolve I had.
“Fine,” I concede. “But no funny business, though. Ten minutes of cuddling and then off to the garage for you.”
He pretends to be hurt, but I can see his smile.
“I’ll take it,” he says. “I’ll take anything I can get.”
The stairs creak worse than our apartment floors, making it very clear by the second step that the house was not designed for being covert.
“I have an idea,” Mackenzie says, sliding his hands around my waist, then cupping my ass and lifting my legs so they wrap around his body. “They’ll hear one set of feet.”
His idea works in theory, but it’s a loud and heavy set of feet as he carries me the rest of the way upstairs, down the hall, and into his old bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us. He drops me onto the bed and then climbs on top of me, pinning me between his knees.
His lips find mine, and though it’s a long, languorous kiss that I enjoy thoroughly, I pull away when it’s done.
“This is not what I call cuddling.”
He kisses me again, but lighter this time and quickly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. I’ll stop.”
His “stop” is yet another kiss—one that parts my lips with a sweep of his tongue. It’s a preview of what could come next if I were to surrender to it.
His hands snake under my hips, cupping my ass as he presses his body into mine. I am about to take it all back—everything I said downstairs—when there’s a loud creak from down the hall.
We both freeze.
When a few moments go by with no more sounds, Mackenzie exhales. “It’s just the house. It does that sometimes.”
Still, he slides off the bed, peels back the covers, and then waits for me to climb underneath them. Then he climbs in after me, pulling the covers up and over us both, tugging my back into his chest, a little spoon to his big.
“Night, Annalise.” He slides his hand over my hip and kisses the top of my head, before collapsing into his pillow with a sigh, his breath evening out into a slow, steady rhythm.
I close my eyes, not the least bit sleepy, but hoping the action will trick my body into sleep.
All it does is make me hyper-aware of his fingers still lingering on my stomach. His pinky finger rests just under the elastic waistband of my sweatpants and he is pressed hard against my thigh.
I hold my breath, fighting the urge to arch my back and take what I want.
Instead I wait. My patience is soon rewarded as his hand begins to move.
His fingers glide along my waistband, back and forth. Once, twice, until the third time when I break.
“Enough.” The word comes out less like an order and more like a plea as my fingers cover his and push them down.
He laughs. However, he emits little sound, just a hot rush of breath along the back of my neck as his hand slides below the elastic of my underwear and begins to stroke.
“I thought you just wanted to cuddle, Annalise.” He presses his erection into me. His lips find my neck, and I fight to keep quiet.
“I kept picturing you in those sweatpants.” I grind against him, needing more.
“Hmmm…” He removes his hand to hook his thumb under the waistband of my sweatpants and underwear and tugs them both down. “Funny…I’ve been lying here the entire time trying to figure out a way to get you out of yours.”
“You liar.” I nudge my butt against him.
He catches my hip and holds me tight to his body. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want you all the time. Always.”
And with that, he sits up to remove my pants the rest of the way, dropping them into some dark pile next to the bed. He takes his own off next, apologizing when he knocks the covers off, and the cool night air makes my whole body shiver.
