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There was only Mackenzie.
His warm fingers were on her chin, and he slowly turned her until she faced him. She was aware of her heart beating, of the way her breathing was erratic. She saw the pulse at the base of Mac’s neck and—holy Christ, but did he have so smell do damn good?
He leaned down, his warm breath now on her cheeks, spreading goose bumps along her skin like a rash. When his tongue darted out and licked at the corner of her mouth, Lily jerked, her body coiled so tight she thought that maybe she’d just had a baby orgasm.
Here. In public. In a bar.
How the hell could he do this to her?
Mackenzie slowly straightened, his eyes never leaving hers. “Spicy,” he said softly. “Somehow I knew you’d be all about the spice.”
She cleared her throat. “Actually, I prefer honey garlic. Blair’s the one who likes his wings hot.”
Mac’s eyebrow rose, and he looked over her shoulder. “Does he now?”
She nodded. “He does.”
It was kind of delicious, the way Mac was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her right there in the bar—right in front of Blair and Sal and anyone else who wanted to watch.
She squirmed. Jesus! Again with the tingle between her legs. It wasn’t fair, this power he seemed to have over her.
“I like spice too,” Mac said softly. Dangerously.
“Really?” Was that her? Sounding all breathless and soft and…freaking girlie?
“Yes. Really. Except…”
She held her breath. She waited for him to finish his sentence. And she refused to squirm even though the pulsing going on between her legs was something fierce. God, maybe she was ovulating. Weren’t ovulating women horny as hell?
Hadn’t she read that somewhere?
“I kinda like my spice in the morning. Spicy coffee. Spicy biscuits.” He lowered his voice, the timbre husky. “Spicy Lily.”
That just about did it.
Right there in the middle of the Coach House, Lily St. Clare was close to losing it—her body was damn close to having a freaking explosion, and all she could do was bite her lip as Mac turned away and called Sal over.
She knew he was alluding to their hot morning together, and now, there was no way she was getting those images out of her mind.
She might have whimpered. Or moaned.
Lily glanced back at Blair—who was looking at her as if she’d lost her freaking mind. And maybe she had, but right now she didn’t care about that. What she cared about was the fact that the ache inside her was so intense, she wasn’t sure it would ever go away.
It had been building since this morning. Since Mackenzie had put his mouth and his hands on her. Since he’d put his fingers inside her.
Oh God, she wanted a hell of a lot more than his fingers. And she wanted it now.
“I need another jug for me and the boys.”
Wait. What?
“You’re staying here?” she asked carefully, tugging her hair from her neck where it was sticking to the sheen of sweat on her skin.
Mac nodded. “Well, darlin’, there’s not much else to do in Crystal Lake on a Monday night, and since you’re busy here with the mayor, I thought I’d catch up with the boys.”
“Oh but—”
Blair and I are done. We can go back to my place and finish what we started earlier.
