Playboy's Ruthless Payback. Charlene SandsЧитать онлайн книгу.
know why,” she uttered softly.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Liv, there’s nothing wrong with being together like this, taking what you need when you need it.”
She looked down at him, her body warring with her mind. “From you, there is.” He looked so sexy lying there in the light of the fire with his hair tousled and a light shadow of beard around his full mouth. “From a guy who’s just using me—”
“You’re using me, too,” he uttered darkly. “Don’t pretend you’re not. I could feel every moment you’ve denied yourself in your touch, in your kiss, the way your hips pushed against mine. You’re starving, Olivia, and you want to feed so badly you’re still shaking with it.”
“I’m cold.”
“Bull. It’s hot as hell in here right now.”
His words startled her. She did want him, but she wasn’t altogether sure why. Was it to use him? Was it to make up for lost time and to finally feel a release in her body and a release of the past? Or was it because she was actually starting to like him?
Her body still hummed from his touch, but she ignored it and said softly, “I’m going to go back to your room now. Alone.”
“Is that really what you want?”
Of course it wasn’t, but she needed to step back and gain some perspective here. “Yes.”
“All right. But if you get cold—”
She stopped him right there and stood. “A little cold might be a good thing right now.” And without another glance in his direction, she left the room.
Mac woke up to the sounds of a snowplow and his doorbell chiming. Looked as though the streets were clear and his furniture delivery had arrived. He pushed himself out of his chair and stretched, the kinks in his back protesting. As he walked to the front door he wondered if Olivia was still asleep in his bed or if she’d slipped out at dawn.
He raked a hand through his hair. What kind of trouble would he be in if, after he let the furniture guys in, he went to wake her up, started at her ankles and worked his way up? He grinned, the lower half of him tightening at the thought. She might kick him out of bed—but maybe not.
Mac was still very deeply ensconced in that fantasy when he opened the front door. But when he saw who was on the other side, all softness and desire vanished, and his fangs came out. “Hell, no. It’s way too early for this.”
Owen Winston looked ready to murder him. “Where’s my daughter?”
“You have a helluva lot of nerve coming here.”
“Where is my daughter?”
Mac leaned against the doorjamb and raised one eyebrow. “In my bed.”
The older man’s eyes bulged out like a tree frog’s and he lunged at Mac.
Eight
Olivia walked down the hall, an aching stiffness in her bones that came from sleeping in a chair for most of the night. If she’d had the day to herself, she might grab a massage and a whirlpool bath at the local spa, but she had a full plate today and a good soak in her bathtub when she got home tonight was about the best she could hope for.
When she got to the stairs, she heard voices below in the hall. “Oh, that’s my cab,” she called to Mac. “The tow truck company said they should be pulling out my car later this afternoon, so you don’t have to—” She stopped talking. The voices she heard were angry and threatening, and she recognized them at once. One belonged to Mac, and the other, she was pretty sure, belonged to her father.
She raced down the hallway, but when she got to the entryway, all she could do was stare. There was her father, his back against the wall, looking like he wanted to kill Mac with his bare hands. And Mac, who was standing in front of him, only inches away, looked just as menacing.
“What the hell are you two doing?” she demanded. When neither of them answered, she walked over and stood in front of them, her hands on her hips. “Mac,” she said evenly, trying to bring some sense of calm to the situation, and to the two fire-breathing men before her. “Take a breath and back up.”
His jaw flickered with tension, but he didn’t look at her when he muttered hotly, “Yeah. Sure. As long as your father here doesn’t jump on me again.”
“What?” Olivia turned to her father. “Jump on you?” When Owen didn’t look at her, she put a hand on his shoulder and said in a voice laced with warning, “Dad, what are you doing here?”
Owen’s lips tightened as he turned to look at her. “We need to talk.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“I tried to call you, but you weren’t at home.”
“Let’s go outside.” Embarrassed at her father’s behavior, and the overly parental way he was treating her at that moment, Olivia tried to smooth things over with Mac. She felt really awkward looking at him, especially after their encounter last night, but she forced herself to. “I’m sorry about this—”
Mac put a hand up. “Don’t worry about it, just get him out—”
“Don’t apologize to him, Olivia,” Owen said with a sneer. “He’s a monster, a conniving—”
Before Owen could hurtle any more insults Mac’s way, Olivia took his hand and pulled him out the door, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be back at ten for the delivery. If you’ll just put a key under the mat…”
Not expecting a response, Olivia led Owen down the walkway toward her waiting cab. She was furious, and could barely contain her anger. She understood her father’s need to protect her, but this was way over the top.
As soon as she believed herself to be out of earshot, she faced him, her tone grave. “Dad, seriously, what are you doing? Coming here and attacking a man in his own home?”
“He’s no man, he’s a—”
“He could have called the police. Hell, he still could…and I have to say I wouldn’t blame him. What were you thinking?”
Owen suddenly looked very weary as he reached out to touch her hair. “I was trying to protect you, honey, stop you from making a huge mistake.” His eyes clouded with sadness. “But it looks like I’m too late for that.”
“Too late for what? What mistake…?” Then she understood why her father had come. She heaved a sigh. It was the same old thing—her father’s desperation, and constant fear that she was going to turn out like his older sister Grace. Her poor aunt Grace, who had been way too wild, made way too many mistakes and had been totally incapable of picking a decent guy. Poor Aunt Grace who, after staying out until dawn partying with some jerk from the local college, had been killed in a car accident on her way home. She’d just turned eighteen the week before, and Olivia’s father had never gotten over losing her.
Olivia understood her father’s fears and his need to protect her, but she wasn’t sixteen anymore. This over-protectiveness needed to stop.
Standing beside the open door of the cab, Owen was shaking his head. “That monster stood there in his doorway and smiled when I asked him where you were.”
Oh, great. “What did he tell you?” As if she needed to ask.
“That you were in his bed.” Her father said the words as though he had acid on his tongue.
So Mac had baited her father. What a shocker. God, they were both acting like such juvenile idiots….
“Is it true then?” her father asked, his brown eyes incredibly sad.
“Dad, I’m not going to answer that.”
The cab driver opened his window. “You going to be much longer, lady?”
Olivia