Forbidden Pleasure (9 page)

He couldn't resist deepening the kiss. Parting her lips and allowing his tongue to taste the erotic flavor of her. Heated feminine warmth filled his senses as he felt her arms twine around his neck, her fingers sinking into the strands of hair at his neck.

"You taste like sunlight," she whispered when he pulled back, her gaze drowsy with passion as he dipped his knees and pressed the engorged length of his cock into the V of her thighs.

"You taste like sex." He grinned, kissing her quickly before easing back. "Jethro just called. He'll be here in a few minutes. I'm going to run upstairs and shower real quick."

"At least he has good timing." Pushing away from him, she headed to the stove to check the various pots and pans there. "Hurry and shower."

He followed, kissing the nape of her neck as she bent her neck back with a laugh and shooed him from the kitchen.

But he had achieved his object. She would have to greet his friend, socialize with him, giving her time to accustom herself to him before he came down.

She would need that time. Her reaction to Jethro would decide any further course toward what he was going to ask from her. It could be a mistake. It could be the biggest mistake of his life. But he was hoping instead that it would ultimately be his greatest pleasure.

Jethro Riggs was a bad boy. It was in his blue eyes, in his overly long black hair that he had pulled back into a low ponytail at that nape of his neck, and in the closely cropped beard and mustache he wore.

He winked the second she opened the door. "Keiley, you're too pretty for Mac. Come on. Run away with me now and I'll rescue you from him."

'And you are just as hell-bent as you always were," she informed him, stepping back from the door as he stepped inside the foyer of the large farmhouse. "Mac is still showering, but he should be done in a bit."

"I called him and warned him I was coming to steal you away. See how lacking in consideration he is? He's not even down here to protect you."

"Who needs his protection?" She arched her brow mockingly. "I have a black belt in tae kwon do, Jethro. I can almost kick his ass."

"Eh. A five-year-old could kick his ass." He set his duffel bag in the hall and stared around the open foyer curiously. "Still can't believe Mac's a farmer, Keiley. Tell me he doesn't pitch hay all day."

"He doesn't pitch hay all day. There's actually a few hours when he's cleaning out stalls."

Jethro grimaced. "He's pitching something else instead, then?"

Keiley chuckled as she closed the door. "Grab your bag. I'll show you to your room and you can freshen up before dinner. I'm sure Mac won't take long."

She hoped he didn't take long. After the images that had played in her mind all day due to the suspicion that Mac had brought his friend here for reasons other than a friendly visit, she felt strangely vulnerable in Jethro's presence.

As he picked up his large duffel bag, Keiley headed for the stairs, heading for the second floor and the guest room she had chosen for him. The room furthest away from her and Mac's. He could make her rather loud when they were having sex. Too loud. She was going to need a gag; then she might have a chance that Jethro wouldn't hear them at the other end of the house.

"It's a damned nice place," Jethro said as he followed her up the stairs.

Why did she feel his eyes on her ass?

"We've done a lot of work on the house since we moved in." She cleared her throat uncomfortably, suddenly very much aware of the fact that her jeans molded to her butt.

"Mac's very handy with a hammer."

"That and a gun is all a man needs," he joked.

She paused at the landing to stare back at him with narrow-eyed intent. "Mac no longer carries a gun, Jethro."

His lips quirked. "A screwdriver?"

She inclined her head in acceptance and began moving down the hallway.

"Here's your room." She opened the door that led into the spacious guest room.

"There's a private bathroom." She opened the nearby door before moving across the room. "And this is the closet. The phone line has its own number, and there's wireless and wired Internet access from the port on the desk." She motioned to the wide cherrywood desk.

"The perfect hostess," he murmured as he set the duffel bag on the queen-size bed and watched her carefully. "All the comforts of home."

His voice was quieter now, deeper. His blue eyes watched her closely, the colors shifting and changing, much like Mac's did as emotions or passion filled them.

Keiley cleared her throat. "Dinner should be ready in about half an hour if you want to shower or anything. Just come downstairs and take the doorway to your right."

He tucked his hands in the back of his jeans, causing his dark blue t-shirt to stress across his broad shoulders.

He looked dangerous, too similar to Mac when she first met him. In the past three years the suspicion in Mac's eyes had begun to ease, the paranoia she associated with being an agent not as present as it had been before they left Virginia. Mac was more relaxed now, more prone to smile, while Jethro still carried the look of a man ready to kill if need be.

"I'll be done in plenty of time to eat," he assured her. "It's been a long time since I had a decent meal."

Keiley breathed in deeply, her gaze flickering around the room.

"Well, I'll talk to you later—"

"There he is." Mac's voice surprised her. She hadn't been aware he had entered the bedroom and had no idea he was behind her until his arms surrounded her, pulling her back against his chest. "Is he behaving himself, Keiley?"

Keiley tensed. It wasn't normal jovial good cheer in Mac's voice. She heard the dark undercurrent of desire and felt the proof of it pressing imperatively into the small of her back.

His voice clued her into much more than his arousal, though. It was different, unlike any tone she had heard in his voice before.

She knew it.

Jethro wasn't just there to visit. She stared back at the other man, watching his gaze flicker to Mac's before he stared back at her, his eyes darkening, a subtle cast of sensuality sharply defining his features.

Her lips flattened, and before she considered her actions or even thought, her elbow rammed into her husbands undefended abdomen, bringing a surprised grunt from him as he released her quickly.

"What the hell was that for?" He was rubbing his hand over his stomach as she turned and glared at him, a frown brewing on his face.

"For being an ass." She smiled tightly. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. That is, if you're brave enough to come down and eat it."

She pushed past him. The blood was thundering through her veins, her emotions were rioting, and God help her, but she was aroused. She hated that. She hated being manipulated, hated being lied to, and she had never believed Mac would resort to such games with her.

He had. He had brought Jethro here with every intention of inviting him into their bed and she knew it. She knew it, and she hated the contradictory emotions that knowledge fed through her body.

Her flesh was sensitive, her breasts swollen, and she could feel the heat building between her thighs. Suddenly her beliefs in herself, her relationship with Mac and what she felt they shared, began to waver.

A fantasy was just that. She was aware he had fantasies, and over the past months she had guessed at the source of them. But fantasies were supposed to stay in the mind. They weren't meant to ever meet reality.

She had fantasized herself for years. Ever since the first rumor she had heard of Mac and Jethro sharing their women. Both men were darkly handsome, both were dangerous and broody. But it was a fantasy.

As she rushed into the kitchen she could feel her hands shaking, her stomach rioting with something that she refused to accept as excitement. It was repulsion, she assured herself. It had to be. No way, no how was she actually going to let this happen. She wouldn't.

She jerked a cabinet door open and pulled three plates free before slamming it closed with a surge of strength that had the panel cracking into the frame with such force that it sounded like a gunshot. Tears flooded her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. They weren't tears of pain, they were tears of confusion, of anger. Anger not just at Mac, but at herself.

He had brought another man into their home to touch her.

She slapped the plates to the table.

He meant to allow another man into their bed.

Her palms flattened against the table as she glared at the doorway.

He meant to seduce her into it. She knew it. She had seen it in Jethro's eyes, felt it in Mac's aroused body. He had no intention of confronting her with it.

Damn him.

Damn her.

Because rather than puking in disgust, she was nearly panting in excitement. And that was even scarier than the knowledge of what Mac and Jethro intended.

By the time the two men entered the large country kitchen with its tall wide windows and view of the pastures, Keiley had herself under control and the table set.

The meal progressed with more ease than she had anticipated, considering her own fractured emotions. Jethro and Mac together were a potent combination. Mac alone could sear her senses no matter what the situation, but when these two men set out to charm, even she, knowing exactly what they were up to, wasn't immune.

With Jethro's presence, a part of Mac that she rarely saw showed itself. She could see the dominance glimmering heavily in his stormy gaze now. He watched her like a cat watched a bowl of cream. And Jethro. Jethro watched her like a man observing a favorite treat.

He seemed to draw from her and Mac somehow. To absorb the emotion between them, to make her more aware of it than she normally would be.

As the meal finished and Keiley and Mac stacked the dishes, she wasn't surprised to realize that the intensity of the atmosphere had heightened her awareness of Mac's body, and of his hunger.

The hunger was boiling in his gaze. Like thunderclouds, pitching and rolling, glittering with quicksilver bolts of wicked lust each time he glanced at her.

"I'll leave you two men to catch up," she announced as she loaded the last dish and turned to face them. "I have some laundry

to take care of and a few things to catch up on the computer before I turn in."

Let Mac wait on her for a change. He was lucky she wasn't heading out of the house.

Turning, she headed along the back hall to the laundry room where the week's laundry waited. She had a meeting tomorrow with the charity committee that ran the annual summer festival and the outfit she had decided to wear needed cleaning first.

The Egyptian cotton dress was one of her favorites, but she had worn it to the monthly office meeting in D.C. the week before.

She was lucky that the programming firm she worked for and her specialties allowed her to work virtually independently, with only occasional trips into the office.

"Don't you think it's a little impolite to leave our company so soon?" Mac asked as she moved to the narrow rack where she had hung the dress after removing it.

It wasn't there. She flipped through the hangers quickly, then looked on the floor beneath the rack.

"Did you hear me?"

Keiley turned back to him slowly. It wasn't so much what he said as how he said it. It was the way his eyes narrowed with a just of hint of sensual determination, the way his shoulders seemed broader, his chest wider. The way the bulge in his jeans seemed more intimidating than ever before.

Keiley could feel her heart rate picking up as he advanced on her slowly.

"I can't find my dress." Her voice was weak, breathless, as she turned from him quickly. "I hung it in here last week to clean. You moved it."

"Fuck the dress, Kei."

His hands caught her shoulders. He turned her to him relentlessly, holding her still as she tried to move away from him.

She tried to swallow. Tried to catch her breath at the strength of the desire she saw in his face.

"You're scaring me," she whispered.His brows lowered further. "Do you think I'd hurt you?"

She could see the conflict in his expression. His desire warring with his love for her. If there was one thing she knew about Mac, she knew he loved her.

"Where would this leave us, Mac?" Keiley tried to still the trembling of her lips, the sensual fear weaving through her mind.

She felt more confused now than she had felt the first time Mac kissed her. The first time he had touched her.

A sibilant whimper left her lips as his hand framed her face.

"Do you think I'd force you?" He leaned forward, touched his lips to hers, electrifying her with the velvet rasp of his lips over her own.

"We need to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" His arm moved around her hips, pulling her to him, lifting her to the cradle of his thighs as he nipped at her lips. "You've known it was there, just beneath the surface. You wouldn't have questioned me otherwise, Kei."

"No." She shook her head, shuddering as she felt his erection wedge between her thighs, the heat of it barely contained by the denim between them.

"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked her then, one hand threading through the hair at the side of her temple while his lips drifted to her jaw. "You saw the restlessness, and you had to start pushing. Such a curious little cat." He raked his teeth down the side of her neck.

Keiley tightened her hold on his shoulders as her head fell back and the familiar weakness Mac caused inside her body began to build. She could just drift here, in this pleasure. Let him take control. Let him—

"Enough." She was out of his arms before he could stop her.

Pushing her hands through her hair, she stared back at him in shock, seeing the glittering purpose in his eyes, the amused, indulgent certainty in his expression.

"You weren't honest with me, Mac." Surprise glittered in his eyes as she made the accusation.

"Did I have to put it in words, Keiley?" He leaned against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with that half quirk to his lips that always made her crazy with lust.