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It was some kiss.
And he’s right.
It landed the right side of perfect. Just enough dirt, spice, and burn to make that perfect sing.
Maybe this is what it’s about, to live and not just survive; the wildness that bursts and flares in my veins.
“You’re some kind of unexpected, Sidney. But doing this here, we just might get arrested if we keep going. I’ll get arrested. And you know how embarrassing that is when your twin’s the sheriff?”
I laugh and almost sway into him. “Are you trying to tell me something about your terrible, criminal path?”
“I wish I had a terrible, criminal path. But never been arrested. My fuckin’ brother loves to threaten me with it.”
He sounds disgustingly happy about that.
My fingers twist a little into his T-shirt, and his gaze is warm on me. The smile at the edges of his mouth, doing things that might be illegal in some places.
Mack’s like no one I’ve ever met. The down-to-earth charm, the ease of him, where he stands in his skin, in his words, the world is an aphrodisiac all its own. Is someone like him the thing that Vic means about taking from that quote and turning it to find my own spark?
“I get the feeling you do what you want when you want,” I say.
He edges a little closer, his hand shifting to just above my hip, his thumb drawing circles on the bone. It sends heated pools of pleasure flaring beneath it.
“Within reason. Like now, I’m not doing what I want when I want to do it on account there are public indecency laws. But . . . I’m easily swayed.”
He’s dangerous.
Not in a life-threatening way, but he’s completely and utterly disarming when he’s not being an interfering, judgmental man. And that’s dangerous. He makes me want to dive into things I never even think about. He makes me want to take risks.
He wants me to dare to be more than I am.
Mack Burns can make the air sing.
Everything about him is wrong. We don’t work. If I lived here, that is, and this was a real thing to think about, we don’t. We’re so different.
To even think of diving down with him into the unknown is a mistake.
Yet, I can’t shake it. Can’t shake the feeling that for the first time in my life I might have stumbled into the right kind of mistake. Mack.
If this was another life.
If I lived here.
If I was staying.
If.
But I’m not, and sometimes . . . doesn’t that make a mistake worth exploring? Because its boundaries are just there?
I don’t think, I just let myself flow into it. I reach up and trace the line of his lips, and then, rising, I place my mouth to his.
Mack’s lips part, and I wind my arms around his neck. Our tongues touch and dance. The kiss combusts, but it’s over before it begins as he untangles me from him and sighs. Coming back into place, sipping little caresses that send the air around us into a heated haze, buzzing with electricity and something almost so unbearably intimate I can hardly stand it.
He breathes. “Are you trying to get me arrested? I’m a hero ‘round here, ya know?”
I laugh, a giddy little sound that starts right in the center of my stomach, radiating out.
“You’re a hero?”
