Page 72 of Pretty Mess

I shift and wince. “I doubt it. My shoulders and neck are killing me.”

There’s a slight hesitation, and then he sighs before stripping off his jacket and throwing it on the chair. “Turn over,” he orders.

“I’m so glad we’re having sex.”

“Well, don’t get too happy. I don’t usually favour fucking dead things.”

“You old charmer, you.”

“Turn over.”

I obey. “Why? Does it make it easier for you to escape from the flat while my back is turned?”

There’s a funny pause. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

I blink. “Eh? I mean, pardon?”

“Nothing.” There’s a rustle of clothing, the click of a cap and the smell of coconut.

I recognise the scent of my body lotion, and then the mattress moves, and I groan loudly as his hands come down on my shoulders and start to knead them. “Oh my god, that’s solush,” I breathe.

“I’m positive that you would possess the ability to talk through your own funeral.”

“That’s probably true. My mum said she’d have remembered my first words if there hadn’t been five thousand others that immediately followed them.”

He laughs and then we fall silent as he massages my neck and shoulders, pushing his talented fingers into my hair and gently massaging my scalp until my eyes cross with pleasure. I stir. “I’m sorry I angered you about Pharoah’s Island,” I whisper. “It’s your house and whatever you do with it is your business.”

His fingers stop, and there’s a long moment of silence. “I wasn’t angry with you. I was angry with myself.”

“Why?” I say in surprise.

He doesn’t reply, but his fingers go back to work.

Meanwhile, my brain whirrs. What did he mean? The question will join the thousands of other questions I’ve wanted to ask him. As if he senses my sharpening curiosity, his hands become more aggressive, making me sink farther into the mattress, dulling all my senses except for the loveliness of touch. My cock rubs against the sheets, sending a flash of heat through my tiredness. Without my permission, my hips begin to thrust, and Mac’s hands pause.

“Turn over,” he says hoarsely.

I roll onto my back and blink blearily at the light. He’s sitting at my side, his sleeves rolled up. My dick springs up, pointing at him, and I give a sigh of relief as he wraps his long fingers around it. His grip is firm and just perfect, and he gazes down at his stroking hand, his expression oddly distant.

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

He looks up, startled, and then gives me a wry smile before bending close. I whimper as his mouth finds mine, his full lips plush and so soft against mine. How can such a chilly man have such warm lips? But is he really cold?

He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth, and suddenly I’m back with the programme, all my idle thoughts blown away like pollen in the breeze. I suck on his tongue, arching up into his hand, the movement painting his fingers with sticky seed.

“Your skin looks like you’ve been dipped in sunshine. Beautiful,” he says in a guttural voice. “You’re so bloodybeautiful.”

My eyes widen, and he kisses me again, hard, forcing my head back into the pillow. His hand leaves my cock, and I make a desperate sound of protest. Then he finds my hands, clasps them, and forces them over my head, leaning slightly so I feel the pressure of his body.

“Try and get free,” he orders.

I struggle but it’s not a great effort, because I have zero wish to get away from him. Despite my token effort, the whole thing is incredibly hot, and I arch into him.

“Please, Mac,” I plead. “Please.”

Keeping me captive with one hand, he skims his other hand down my body, tracing the dips of my torso. His fingers are cool but seem to leave a trail of heat behind. My nipples tingle, and I make a protesting noise as he bypasses them. Smiling, he traces back and scratches one. The sting makes me cry out in pleasure, which dies to a groan as he leans in and bites the nub, pulling back to blow air over it and lick. The cool air conditioning washes over my skin, and I pull against his restraining hand in earnest now, desperate to put my arms around him and feel his body on mine.

He pulls back, shaking his head. “Nope,” he says with a crooked smile. “I’m in charge tonight, my little rulebreaker.”