Playmates by Crystal Green

Author:Crystal Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

THE SHAKING NEEDED to stop, thought Fiona, as she wandered into the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator.

She took a few deep breaths, calming herself, making sure her fingers hadn’t turned to butter, before she whipped open the door. A flood of light and coolness claimed her, plastering itself against the stickiness of her skin.

But she still couldn’t stop those trembles. The deep belly-jiggering lack of control.

She focused on the food. God, Mac was such a guy. A package of ground beef, way past its due date—so he really wasn’t a cook. Three six-packs of Corona—better. A mysterious take-out box that she didn’t even want to touch. A jar of maraschino cherries with the stems still attached…maybe that meant there was ice cream in the freezer. And a jar of marshmallow cream with the lid half off. She didn’t want to venture a guess as to what that was all about.

There, see? Now she was calmer. Back to her search.

Fiona wasn’t picky when it came to after-sex sustenance. She usually just wanted to get the taste of her partner out of her mouth, to fill up all the untouched places.

She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting salt. Him.

“Any specific hankerings?” Mac asked.

Half ignoring him—good game plan, especially since he hadn’t put on a stitch of clothing—she left open the fridge and checked the freezer. No ice cream. Drat.

“What do you eat to survive?” she asked.

When he didn’t say anything, she turned around to find him shooting a devilish glance at her body.

The sight of him hit her where it counted, all over, including the lacings of her heart. Those long muscled legs, a penis that could only be described as, “Yow,” ridged abs, a brawny chest.

And that face. Chisled from something she couldn’t name.

She hardened her resolve, gave a soft, “humph” and turned back to the refrigerator, thankful for the distraction. “Man does not live by copulation alone, you know.”

“Says who?”

“Oh, would you just get over here and fix me a marshmallow sandwich or something?”

He ambled across the kitchen floor, gunslinger footsteps thudding on the linoleum.

Gun. Slinging.

Fiona heaved out a trembling breath.

He reached over her, chest to back, the hair of his underarm tickling her shoulder. She stifled a moan of yearning, biting her lip instead.

She’d meant what she’d said about him smelling so good. And not in an artificial designer cologne way, either. Mac had something primal about him—earthy, leathery, like chaps or…

“I could whip up some surprise burgers,” he said, touching the package of graying meat.

“Try again.” She swallowed as he shifted, his “Yow” nestling between the cheeks of her derriere.

“Beer?”

Was he doing this purposely? Trying to prod her, to slip into her open spaces? His penis had slid downward, inside the backs of her thighs, impeded by the nightgown.

Just for good measure, she wiggled, causing him to start, to nip at her shoulder.

“I guess I should get some drink in me,” she said, grabbing two Coronas, moving away.

She heard him take something from the fridge, then shut the door.

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