Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)

I don’t know how many coffees it takes to be considered a people person, but it’s safe to say, it’s not three.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

It’s close to midnight when I walk past Nixon’s door and let myself into my own condo, only instead of being exhausted like I should be, I’m thinking about a certain sexy hockey player and his bossy demand that I let him know I’m home. My inner independent feminist is pretty sure I should have told him no one has told me what to do outside of an operating room in a long damn time. But I didn’t . . . why didn’t I? Oh, that’s easy. Because it was fucking hot.

Why is everything he does such a turn-on?

I kick off my jeans, shoving them to the corner of my bedroom, and take in my reflection in the oversized, freestanding mirror propped up in the corner of the room. Standing here in a white, ribbed tank top and cheeky black panties, I don’t look like much. The tan I worked so hard for during my break between residency and starting my job is fading. I’ve lost a few pounds I probably couldn’t afford to lose. My boobs are pretty great though.

I turn to the side and smile at my reflection. My curves are more pronounced this way, and my ass might be small, but it’s curvy. Definitely a solid handful.

I can’t help but wonder what Nixon would think if he was standing here now.

Should I text him?

I pull my phone from my purse and look at the time staring back at me.

I mean, he did tell me to text him, and we’re basically supposed to be each other’s booty calls, right?

At least once we have sex, that’s what we’ll be.

Really, what’s the harm in calling?

He’s probably sound asleep with Gordie snoring at the foot of his bed.

I doubt he’ll even wake up to see the text.

What can it hurt?

Kenzie

Just got home. Going to pour a glass of wine and go to bed. XOXO

I decide to delete the x’s and o’s. Seriously . . . who do I think I am, the Kroydon Kronicles?

Kenzie

Just got home. Going to pour a glass of wine and go to bed. Hopefully you’re sleeping and this didn’t wake you up.

There. That’s better. I send that one off and grab a bottle of Riesling from my fridge and a wine glass from the cabinet. I’m alone with no one to judge, so I fill that bitch all the way up, grab mint chocolate chip ice cream from the fridge, and ask Alexa to play my favorite Eddie Vedder song. Ironically, the song is about seizing the day.

I slip my bra off and sing into my spoon as I dance around my kitchen in pink fuzzy socks, panties, and a tank. As the song slides into the next, my phone vibrates on the counter next to the bottle of wine.

Nixon

Let me in.

Oh shit. I guess he was awake.

Nixon

I hear music coming from the other side of the wall while I wait outside her door. Pretty sure I can hear her singing too. At least I can until I send my text. The singing stops then.

This woman is one giant contradiction. One I can’t figure out, but I’m going to give it my best shot.

She’s unbelievably beautiful but has no clue.

Sexy as hell, but she’d never believe it.

Brilliant but clumsy.

She says she doesn’t want any strings . . . but this town would tie her down in a heartbeat if she let them.

And when she opens the door, all of that ceases to matter.

The building could burn down around us, and I’m not sure I’d notice or care.

“Mac . . .” I swallow and suck air in through my teeth. Fuck me.

Nobody should look that fucking hot in fuzzy fucking socks, but holy fuck, she does.

Her nipples are high, tight little points pressing against a white tank top, teasing me with a glimpse of the rosy-pink color visible beneath the fabric. One that’s barely hiding what I’m absolutely positive will be the most magnificent breasts I’ve ever touched, and I’m going to touch . . . and taste . . . and fucking worship them.

I want to grab her face in my hands and kiss her.

Slam her up against the wall and fuck her.

But this is Mac, and that’s not what we’re doing.

Even if the sight of her has me ready to throw out every other rule I’ve ever had just to have her.

“Good fucking girl, Mac,” I growl from deep within my chest as I step inside and kick the door shut behind me. “What do you have there?”

I nod toward the spoon in her hands. She licks it like a little brat and smiles. “My favorite ice cream. Do you want to try some?”

“Yeah, beautiful. I’m going to try some.”

She blushes the prettiest shade of pink, and my mind goes in a million fucking directions.

She saunters by me with a swish of her hips, and I wonder where this boost of confidence came from and how I can harness it for her so she can always have it as I follow her into the kitchen. A small speaker sits next to a glass of wine and a carton of ice cream.

“You’re fucking perfect, Mac.” I lift her up and sit her on the island. “You ready for your next lesson?”

With wide eyes, she catches herself as she’s about to nod, but then stops. “What does the lesson entail, Mr. Sinclair?”

I fucking love sassy Mac. “First, tell me where this is coming from. You seem different tonight.”

I run my hands up and down her thighs and wait her out.

Mac’s eyes trace the movements for a moment before her dazzling smile grows even brighter, and she flashes it right at me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She drops her hands on mine, stopping my movements. “I saved two lives today. There was a patient with a complication. The baby’s heart rate was bottoming out. The mothers blood pressure was through the roof. So many things were going wrong all at once. It was chaos. But I knew what to do, and they’re both alive tonight because of it. I didn’t have to go into the waiting room and tell a husband that his wife and baby didn’t make it. I got to tell him they’re both going to be fine, and he has a healthy baby girl. I don’t think there’s a bigger high than knowing two people are alive thanks to me.”

“That’s amazing, Mackenzie,” I tell her, awed.

I hit a puck into a net for a living, and this woman saves lives.

“Some days are really good days.” She dips her spoon right into the carton of ice cream, then sucks the mint chip goodness right off it, giving me all sorts of ideas.

“I think a good day should be rewarded, don’t you?”

She licks the ice cream off her lips and digs the spoon back into the carton, while slowly nodding her head.

Oh, I’m going to be using that spoon.

“Lie down, Mac.” I can’t even attempt to hide the need in my voice.

There’s no hiding it. Fuck . . .

“What?” she squeaks, and there’s my Mac, right back to her old ways. “I’m on the counter.”

“Lie down,” I tell her again, leaving no room for question, only this time she listens and leans back on her elbows.

Her tank rides up a few inches, baring a strip of her toned abs above her panties.

Her greedy gaze licks my skin. “You take your shirt off, Nix.”

“You gonna accuse me of using steroids again?”

She shakes her head slowly and watches while I reach behind me and pull my shirt over my head. “What do you want tonight, Mac?”

“Umm . . . whatever you want to teach me,” she murmurs.

“Not how this works. I need you to tell me what you want. The more vocal you are, the more I can give you what you need. The better this is for you. And this is all about you, beautiful. I want you to know just how good it can be with the right person.”

She sucks in a breath. “And you think you’re the right person?”

The idea of there ever being another person has me seeing a red mist in front of my eyes, but I don’t tell her that. “I am tonight.”

“I want your mouth on me.” She hesitates and looks away. “And maybe my mouth on you,” she adds, a little less sure of herself.

“Good girl. Now take off your shirt.”

Again with those damn doe eyes that’ll be the death of me. “But I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Good, baby, because this is going to get messy.” I scoop a spoonful of ice cream from the carton, then suck in my fucking breath when she peels her tank over her head, and my fucking God. There is nothing in the world more perfect than Mackenzie Hayes in nothing but black silk lace.

Fuck . . . My cock is leaking in my boxers.

“Say something, Nix . . .”

I want to say mine, but I can’t.

That’s not fair to either one of us.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Mac.”

The flush that lights up her cheeks creeps down her chest, and I decide to follow it with the cool ice cream. I drag the spoon down her body, tracing her curves. Learning each one. Leaving a trail of cool, sticky sweetness that I lean in and lick off her neck. Her collarbone. The pulse point that’s thrumming rapidly at the base of her throat.

When I look up, her golden eyes look lust drunk, and fuck if it’s not a pretty look.

I dip my spoon back in the softening ice cream and love the way her back arches off the cool granite counter when I circle her tits—one, then the other, trailing lightly over her tight, pink nipples, eliciting a gasp as they harden even more.

Her belly trembles as I slide the ice cream over her toned stomach, dipping into her belly button, then licking it off her slowly. Savoring the taste of her skin and the tiny, jagged breaths leaving her lips.

“You doing okay, Mac?” I ask between sucking and licking and dragging more ice cream over her hip bones.

“Don’t . . . Don’t stop. Please,” she manages to say before her hands reach down and grab my shoulders.

“Not a fucking chance, Mac.”

“Oh, thank God,” she whispers, and I smile to myself before I run the spoon along the edge of her black lace cheeky panties. The fabric covering her perfectly waxed pussy is soft and sheer, and fuck me . . . it’s drenched.

She’s so responsive, I want to rip them from her body.

But not yet.

I need to taste Mackenzie first.

Rather than ripping them off her like I want to, I run what’s left of the ice cream over the lips of her pussy through the lace of her panties. This time, Mac’s back bows off the counter, and her fingers tug at my hair as she moans my name.

I drop the spoon and push her thighs open.

Drunk off her taste and high off her smell, I throw her legs over my shoulders and drag my tongue up the length of her pussy through the lacy fabric.

“Ohh, just like that.” she moans, and it’s breathy and sexy and exactly what I want to hear from her. So I flatten my tongue and do it again. And again. And again.

I eat her through her soaked panties until she’s a squirming, shaking, needy mess.

Until she’s begging me for more and screaming my name.

My cock throbs in my pants as I finally rip the lace from her body and shove it in my pocket.

Her knees clamp tight against my head when I run a finger along the length of her sex, then slide it inside her, feeling her tighten around me. The sound she makes is mind-blowing, I unzip my pants and take my cock in my other hand and stroke myself as I feast on Mac.

The taste of her on my tongue is better than I could have ever imagined, and I fucking imagined this a lot over the years.

When I pull my finger out, she cries out from the loss until I trail it around her clit, just like she did the other night. “You like that, Mac? You like the way I fuck you with my tongue?”

She moans and tugs on my hair, trying to force me back where she needs me.

“Words, Mac.” I quickly smack her pussy, and she moans as her body trembles beneath me.

“I fucking love the way you fucked me with your tongue. I love the way you licked me.” I slide a finger back in, and she moans again. “And fingered me.” I add another finger.

“What else do you want?” I growl, desperate for my own release.

“Pinch it . . . I want you to pinch my clit,” she begs.

I lean down and suck her swollen little clit between my lips, then scrape my teeth over it and bite it just enough . . . and tug.

Mackenzie comes, screaming my name and soaking my face as I jerk my cock one final time, thinking I’ll never get enough of her.