The Fake Mate(39)

But not enough to make it easy to turn down.

I meant it when I said there were a dozen reasons why it’s a bad idea—so why in the world have I not definitively said no yet? Why am I standing here considering what she’s saying, trying to make it seem reasonable in my head? Is it just hormones, or is it . . . something else?

“Dessert is ready,” I hear Moira call from the other side of the patio door, making me jolt as I’m realizing I’m still hard on Mackenzie’s grandmother’s deck. I hear another soft giggle. “Whenever you two are done.”

I close my eyes in embarrassment. I don’t think I acted this way even when I was a teenager. I take a deep breath to steady myself, and when I open my eyes again, I’m startled by the sight of Mackenzie right next to me, her hand reaching to gently press at my shoulder as she peers up at me in the half dark.

“We’ll talk about it after,” she says, her voice low and her eyes full of promise. Her fingers slide down my bicep to trace one of the lines in my sleeve, and the sudden burst of her scent threatens to knock me on my ass. “Just . . . think it over. Okay?”

I have to remain outside for several more seconds before I can will the most traitorous part of me to calm down—Mackenzie’s wild proposition bouncing around in my head in tandem with all the reasons why I should turn her down.

And I will. Turn her down. I absolutely will. It’s a terrible idea. Horrible, really. There are a million things that could go wrong. I will turn her down.

At least . . . that’s what I’m telling myself.





9





Mackenzie





Noah hasn’t said a word since we left Gran’s, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s embarrassed by my proposition or because he’s actually considering it. In my head, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable and logical thing to propose—or at least, it had seemed that way in the afterglow of that kiss. Because it was . . . a hell of a kiss.

I’m not stupid. I know a lot of what I felt out there on Gran’s deck was just hormones and biology and compatibility—but that doesn’t change the fact that it felt really good. Noah’s kiss had been rough and messy and a little bit desperate (but that might have been me, who can say), but not once in my life have I been so turned on by just a kiss, and it makes me wonder how good everything else might feel with Noah Taylor. Plus, I’m honestly getting a little tired of being revved up in offices and closets and having to brush it off for no real reason.

I mean, when will we ever get a chance like this again? If biology is going to dictate how compatible we might be in bed together, why not enjoy the benefits? We’re medical professionals, after all. It can be like . . . an experiment of sorts. Plus, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of luck in the phallic department, since every date I’ve been on in months has been an utter disaster.

He’s still quiet when we pull up to my apartment building, and I linger in the passenger seat for a second too long as I try to think of what I should do here. I’ve never had to convince anyone to sleep with me before, and I’m not even sure if I should. Is this somehow beneath me? Or am I more empowered by trying to take the bull by the horns, as it were. Honestly, I’m too horny to care.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?”

There. Simple. Easy. Only slightly suggestive.

Noah frowns. It really is a sexy frown, I’ve decided. “Are you asking me for a drink, or something else?”

“Both? Maybe?”

“Mackenzie . . .” He pulls his hands from the steering wheel to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m really not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because we have an arrangement, and sex was not part of the deal. It could make things very complicated.”

“Think of it as a perk.” I snap my fingers. “Oh! An addendum! Contracts have those all the time.”

“I’m not sure any contract has ever had a sex addendum.”

“Ours could,” I venture.

He looks at me with an odd expression then, his brow furrowing. “I’m still confused as to why you would want to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, well. You’re . . . And I’m . . .” He sighs. “I just feel like you could easily find another partner who would be a lot less . . .” He waves his hand as if searching for a word, huffing out a breath when he decides on, “Me.”

“What’s wrong with you? You’re tall and pretty—” Noah looks stunned by this. “When you’re not scowling, that is. Or, actually, sometimes when you are? It’s kind of growing on me. Plus, you’re built like a brick shithouse. I don’t really see any downsides for me.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Also, you’re the first alpha I’ve met. Like, ever. At those odds, I’ll be in my fifties before I meet another one. I could be postmenopausal by then. Would I even enjoy it?”

“So this is an alpha thing?”

“I would be lying if I said that it’s not a little bit of an alpha thing,” I tell him truthfully. “But also, scowling aside, you’re the most normal person I’ve dated all year, fake or not. I’m going to get carpal tunnel if I don’t give my poor hands a break.”