Chapter Thirteen

The last time Connor had seen Mack she’d been blindfolded, on her knees, his cock in her mouth. The last time he’d talked to her, his hand had been firm around his dick while he told her every filthy thing he wanted to do to her. The last words she’d spoken to him about his food were positive, and he’d believed her.

So why were they sitting across from each other yelling so loudly that Sam was threatening to throw them both out?

“It’s not going to be Mackenzie’s,” Connor spewed. “It’s not going to be Connor’s. It’s not going to be Mack and Connor’s. Connor and Mack’s. The restaurant isn’t going to be named after either of us, and it isn’t going to be a repeat of the place we have now with a few superficial changes. In case you missed it, the Dipper is closing. You want to be in on this deal, you’d better pick another option.”

With the menus on the table, Sam nodding at both of them, Connor had been able to see the restaurant he wanted taking shape in his mind. His dishes, Mack’s drinks, the two of them able to do something together besides get each other off. For the first time, amid the fog of whatever insanity had possessed them to fuck in the first place, it had seemed doable.

But now that they were in person again, talking business instead of sex, they were back to the same old problem. Mack sat slouched in her seat, arms folded, shooting daggers at Connor. Sam typed, sighed, typed some more. Connor got up, paced, sat down. Got up again, ready to jump out of his skin.

At least they weren’t at the restaurant, where he’d be able to glance at the bar and remember what an idiot he’d been. It probably would have served to make him shout louder. As it was, Sam put a hand on his arm to calm him down. How did Mack make his blood pressure rise like this? She’d fuck him, but she still hated him. How did that even work? And why did it bother him so much?

He’d thought, stupidly, that things were going well. That somehow they’d turned a corner and everything had changed. For a second, it had seemed like they were on the same side, like they might even be able to agree. For a second, he had felt so incredibly good.

And then, at some point in the meeting, everything shifted. He couldn’t figure out what had caused it.

He’d thought, now that they’d agreed on the food, that Mack would be okay with elevating the restaurant a notch from what she’d been imagining. It fit the menus and provided a different ambiance than the other restaurants around.

So why did Mack look like she was going to cry? Or kick him. Or both. By the time Sam put a stop to the meeting, Connor was sure of two things. He and Mack were never going to be able to open a restaurant together, let alone run it.

And they were never, ever having sex again.

“Why is the name such a big deal?” he asked in exasperation after Sam left them for her next appointment. He knew he should cool it, but they were stuck walking to their cars together and anyway, it was a fair question. “And the concept. If we called it Mackenzie’s but made it a five-star place—would you agree? Or does everything have to go exactly your way?”

Mack kicked a rock and looked at the ground. She was wearing a dark dress with long sleeves and a top like a button-down, with a belt around the waist and a skirt that flared loosely to her knees. Connor wished she could have worn something a little less…noticeable for their meeting. Something that didn’t accentuate the curve of her breasts, or the sway of her hips as she dug her heel in the dirt.

He especially wished she hadn’t worn it with those gray boots up to her knees, reminding him that she was poised to kick the shit out of him at any time. They had a small, chunky heel but not enough to give her any height on him. How could someone so short be so goddamned unapproachable?

“I could ask you the same thing,” she finally said. Which hardly seemed the best response she could come up with, considering the time she’d taken to think it through.

“My idea does what we’re supposed to be working toward—providing something different.”

“Yeah, so different it no longer fits.”

“You make it sound like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Mack leaned against her car, one leg bent up so the heel of her boot was kicked against the tire. She folded her arms, a classic Mack pose. He didn’t remember noticing before how it drew attention to her breasts. He used to find it intimidating—which he assumed was why she did it. But now it was just distracting.

“Do you?” she asked.

Connor turned away to keep his eyes from wandering.

“I’m trying to create something I know will be successful.”

“But is it what you want?” she asked. “Is it what you love?”

“That’s not the only thing I have to consider.”

She kicked her heel down and threw up her hands, unlocking herself from that curled, protective position against the car. “But it should still matter. Why would you suggest a restaurant you’re not truly passionate about? I don’t want to be lukewarm about any of it—especially not the name. I want it to be something I’m wildly in love with, that gets me excited when I think about it, that feels like an essential part of my life and who I am. Because I’m planning on sticking with this restaurant. I’m going to be part of this place for years.”

She flushed with the intensity of what she was saying, pink on her cheeks and up to her ears, and Connor thought of how he’d brought that flush to her face in the candlelight. How even the blindfold hadn’t been able to hide that burn.

“And now it makes sense,” he observed.

“What does?”

“You want a name you’re ‘wildly in love with.’ So naturally that name is…” He drummed the hood of the car. “Your own.”

She scowled. “It’s not like that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I just think you should give a shit about what you stand behind instead of changing course every time something shiny comes your way.”

He took a step forward. He had to disarm her. Remind her he wasn’t always the enemy here. “You don’t complain about what I stand behind when I’m standing behind you.”

It worked. Her flush deepened, and her eyes traced slowly down his body. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and rolled loosely up his forearms. If the force of her gaze could undo buttons, it would be all the way open by now.

“You should care about what you’re doing,” she said, not lifting her eyes from his chest. “I still don’t believe you want what you say.”

He scratched his hand along his jaw, raking it over his beard. Mack may have been trying to hide how her breath hitched, but she couldn’t cover up that rise to her chest as her dress pulled taut across her breasts, or the way her eyes burned into his.

“Tell me, Mackenzie.” He drew out the word, teasing it around on his tongue. “What do you want, besides your name in lights?”

Who cared how short she was—she shoved him right in his solar plexus, back against the door of his car.

“Fuck you,” she said, but she was running her hands under his shirt, over his skin, down to his belt. “You’d never understand.”

His breath caught. No matter how much they fought, he wasn’t going to stop her from unzipping his jeans and rubbing her hand over his fly where he’d been hard since the moment they came outside and he saw the flush in her cheeks.

Since before that, sitting there with Sam half hard and half pissed off out of his mind. How did Mack do this to him?

He grabbed her wrist to stop her. “We don’t always get what we want.”

“Maybe you don’t.” Her eyes flashed. “But I do.”

He pushed her back against her car and covered her body with his, making her feel his hardness through that flimsy nothing of a dress.

“I know exactly what you want,” he murmured, and claimed her mouth with his.

Her body stiffened at the same time that she opened to him, tongue pressing back, teeth grazing his lower lip. She went for his cock again, but he lifted her arms and pinned them overhead. The motion lifted the hem of her dress, exposing more of her legs to him. He spread her thighs apart, making sure she could feel the scratch of his jeans on her skin.

How could someone so infuriating be so incredibly hot? They were outside in the middle of the day, Sam in her office mere feet from where they stood, the blinds drawn to block out the sun. They were off the road and behind the main parking area, by a side entrance that was rarely used, but if anyone peered around the building, they’d be caught.

But not even the threat of a passing car, an employee calling out, or Sam flipping open her blinds could stop them.

Overhead, a breeze rustled through the trees. A truck rattled down the main road but didn’t slow. Connor used one hand to keep Mack’s arms pinned to the car and trailed the other over her body, her hips, holding her so hard a tight, desperate sound escaped her lips.

He kissed her as his hand moved up under her dress. Wrinkled in his palm, the fabric was flimsy, nothing, pulled up over her hips. He reached her breasts and pushed aside the cups of her bra to brush her nipples, pinching them as they peaked in his hand. His beard scraped her skin. Her cheeks would be raw, her lips swollen and red by the time he got through with her.

Which was exactly what he wanted.

He wanted her nipples sore, her legs trembling, every inch of her aching from the onslaught. He wanted her to remember exactly how it felt when he fucked her, how sore he’d made her after, so that when she got home, she wouldn’t be able to forget how hard he’d made her come. No matter how much she was stewing, she wouldn’t be able to ignore that she’d begged for it. Pleaded. Needed it from him and him alone.

A flock of birds flew by, and from somewhere down the road, another car came. Who cared? Not Connor. Let her try to pull away—he knew she wouldn’t. He teased her nipples, then brought his hand down to cup her over her panties. Lace—he could feel it, along with the radiating heat. Fuck, he loved lace. He loved even more that she was already wet. Now he knew her secret. Like him, she’d wanted it as soon as they stepped outside.

Maybe even earlier—who knew with Mack. Maybe she got off on fighting, on being self-righteous and uncompromising. He pressed his hips against her, her body pinned between him and the car so there was nowhere for her to go except writhe in his palm.

“Please,” she whimpered. Playing at nice.

He pushed the lace to the side and stroked the softness of her. Mack inhaled as his finger found her clit and then the slick, sweet opening behind. He slid in easily. She took him all the way to his knuckles, one leg hitched up over his to draw him deeper.

Should they go somewhere more private?

No, there was no way he could wait. He had to have her. Now.

He had a condom in his pocket. Mack probably thought he was such a player for carrying one with him, like you never knew who you were going to meet at the grocery store. But he’d grabbed it before leaving his house precisely because he knew he’d be seeing her. It felt absurd. He’d bring it home unused and chastise himself for assuming something that clearly wasn’t there.

But now it felt even more unbelievable to know he’d been right. Try as he might to deny what was happening, he’d known in advance how things would go.

He pulled his cock out of his jeans and slid it on. Mack, her dress over her hips, panties pushed to the side, peered over his shoulder to see if there was anyone around.

“Jesus, Connor,” she said, a note of worry creeping in. “It’s broad daylight.”

“They’re in meetings.”

“The road?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

She skimmed her fingers over his balls, the fucking tease. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to grab her and rip open her dress, turn that fabric to shreds as he gave her what he knew they both wanted.

Her lips curled into a smile. “Fuck me hard enough to make me forget.”

It was all he needed. He grabbed her by the ass and lifted her so she was positioned over his cock, her legs spread, her hands wrapped around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. Ready, open, wanting.

Then he brought her down.

Her initial gasp was cut short by the rise of a low moan, throaty and raw. She bit his earlobe as her hips tilted to draw him deeper. He thrust into her, hard, and her body tensed to hold him tighter, her whimpers growing in his ear.

The sounds of the road receded. Even the sunlight seemed an afterthought. Who was near them? What did it matter? She held on closely as he took her up against the car. So fucking dirty. So fucking right.

This wasn’t like the bar, or the lake, a fantasy they were halfway running from. A game in which they egged each other on as though sex were a competition, a fight to see who could make the other fall apart.

This was quick and hard and desperate, their breathing coming fast, their hands clinging tightly as their bodies took what they needed. It was a quickie in the parking lot—could Connor get any more clichéd? And yet the fact that they couldn’t even wait to make it inside one of their cars told him they were further gone than either of them was willing to admit.

She tightened around him, her thighs strong, grasping him close.

“Come,” he whispered as her heels hooked around his ass.

“I’m so close.”

He pressed into her with his hips so she could feel the pressure against her clit with every thrust. He was out of his mind with how good she felt, how deeply she had taken him. “Tell me. Anything you want.”

“Right there,” she said, and then a litany of commands. “Harder. Please. Yes.”

He gave her everything she wanted, he gave her all of it and more, and when he didn’t think he could wait a second longer, he felt her legs tense, her fingers tighten their grip, her breathing so fast he could feel the thud of her heart pounding from her chest to his.

And then she let go.

He could feel the release, the way her hands shook and her gasps shuddered as she ground against his pelvis, whispering, “That’s it, that’s it,” until she went slack in his arms.

And then, to her whispers urging him on, he released every ounce of pent-up longing while she wrapped her legs around him and locked him tight to her.

To say it felt good was an understatement. It was more than good. It was more than physical, even. Yet there was a sense of something unsated by what they’d done. When Mack’s feet slid to the ground, he felt a piece missing when she was gone.

He took the condom off and threw it in the trash outside the building. If anyone saw it, they’d think teenagers. Kid stuff. Not the head chef and bartender of Kane Enterprises’ newest investment, who had jobs and reputations and homes with beds. Who didn’t typically view sex as a 2:00 p.m. in the outdoors kind of thing.

And certainly not between the two of them.

Mack adjusted her dress and smoothed her hair so it didn’t look like somebody had raked their fingers through it like a madman. He wondered if she’d said anything to Abbi or Claire. If she would, at some point. If he should tell Austin. If this was going to continue, he’d have to say something eventually.

Or maybe they’d admit it later, months, even years down the line. A late night when this was behind them and a funny story to shock their friends.

The thought of them sitting around talking, laughing in some nebulous, ill-defined future hit him hard. He didn’t want to be a funny story. He didn’t want to be somebody’s shock.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he blurted out. He didn’t have plans. He hadn’t checked the app since he’d blown off his date and spent the night with Mack instead. He had no idea how many messages he had, but he didn’t care who else might be waiting. He wanted to see her again.

Mack’s hands froze and slowly lowered. “What?”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

She frowned. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Connor,” she started.

“Or…not?”

“I’m late.” She pulled out her keys. “I have to strain the next round of bitters before they steep too long.”

“Huh. That’s a new one.”

She got in the car and rolled down the window, leaning out. “Dinner isn’t going to change the way that meeting just went. You’ve got the menu you want, the dishes you’ve planned. You have your restaurant, Connor. The least you can do is let me still have a say.”

A thousand responses came to him too late. A thousand frustrations, like the fact that sex with her could be so good and still mean nothing. That for her this was tit for tat, another play in her strategy to dominate the restaurant.

After sex like that, Connor could barely think.

But there was Mack, driving away.