Mackenzie is still looking at me, her eyes moving over my face in a lazy but calculated way, as if she’s considering the pieces of a puzzle. I watch her tongue trace her lip again, and I’m pretty sure if she does it one more time, I will go insane.
“Say something,” I urge. “Help me figure this out. I could get back on my suppressants, or maybe . . . Maybe we should call the whole thing—”
“What if we just . . . do it?”
I freeze, staring at her. Surely she said something different than what I heard. “What?”
“We could just . . . try it out,” she goes on. “See what all the fuss is about.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say incredulously.
“Why not?” Her eyes look less glazed now, sharper, like she’s really thinking about this. “I mean, it’s not like it has to be a big thing,” she reasons. “We’re already pretending to date. Why not enjoy it a little?”
“I can think of a dozen reasons as to why that’s a bad idea.”
“I can think of one reason why it’s a very good idea,” she counters, nodding at my still-tented pants. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like you’re too opposed to it.”
I press my palm against the stiff front of my dark jeans, immediately regretting my actions when it makes my traitorous cock throb. I hiss through my teeth, closing my eyes. “Mackenzie . . .”
“Seriously, what’s the harm? It sounds like neither of us have had much luck in the dating department lately. I mean, if we had, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. Plus, you’re leaving soon! It seems like a win-win to me.”
“It sounds like a very good way to make things complicated.”
“I’m not going to go all dickmatized on you,” she snorts, barreling on before I even have a chance to process that phrase. “It’s just sex. No need to make a big thing of it.”
I stare at her openmouthed, this turn of events nothing like what I could have ever expected when she got into my car a few hours ago. I can honestly say I’ve never been propositioned for sex like some sort of business deal. The entire thing is . . . bizarre.
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.