The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,45

to linger over the task.

He smelled good, like warm skin and amber and spices, and his shoulder felt very solid beneath her hand.

She let her hand drop to her side. His hand reached out to catch it before she could withdraw. Their gazes locked as his fingers wove with hers. For a long beat they simply stared at each other.

“Mackenzie Williams,” he said, so softly it was barely more than a whisper.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

The world stood still. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She forgot to breathe. Then his mouth moved against hers and heat exploded in her belly and breasts and between her thighs. In that fraction of a second she knew how it would be between them—hot and wild and desperate.

It was too much. Too fast, too real, too confronting. She jerked backward so fast she lost her balance and would have fallen over if the door hadn’t been a mere foot behind her. As it was, she cracked the back of her head against it, the pain vibrating through her skull.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked, reaching out to steady her.

She couldn’t look him in the eye, could barely force herself to lift her gaze to the middle of his chest.

“Yes. Fine, thanks. All good.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself?”

She could feel heat rushing into her face and chest. “No, no. I’m fine. Honestly.”

She reached behind herself and gripped the knob. It twisted beneath her hand, and she stepped around the door and out onto the porch.

“Mackenzie—”

“Good night.”

She didn’t look back as she disappeared into the cold darkness, her mind on one thing and one thing only—escape.

* * *

OLIVER STARED at the empty doorway, trying to work out what the hell had happened.

He’d kissed his first girl when he was fourteen years old. In the twenty-five years between now and then, he’d like to think he’d improved his technique a bit. He’d definitely like to think he was a little smoother, a touch more suave than the sweaty-palmed, horny dude who had led Diane Leeds into the corner at the school dance and stuck his tongue down her throat.

Apparently, however, if tonight was anything to go by—and he figured it was—he had more in common with his fourteen-year-old self than he’d like. Because he’d misread Mackenzie so spectacularly he’d sent her running from the building.

But not before she’d banged her head against the door, she’d been so eager to escape his attentions.

He mouthed a four-letter word and pushed the door shut. The crazy thing was, he’d had no intention of making a move on her when he’d invited her over for dinner tonight. Yes, he was attracted to her, but that didn’t mean he’d been primed for seduction. He’d simply been looking for some good conversation, a bit of company, a few laughs. But then she’d kissed his cheek and he’d looked into her eyes and seen what he thought was awareness—the same awareness he’d been feeling—and it had seemed natural and right and good to kiss her.

Yeah.

Mackenzie had all but left a vapor trail she’d hightailed it out of here so fast.

Good one, Romeo. Excellent work.

Clearly, kissing him had been the last thing on her mind. Not a stunning revelation when he considered that he’d spent the last hour of the evening going on about his ex. Sexy stuff, that. Nothing said Let’s get it on like a bitching session about your failed love life and how you’ve been done wrong.

Oliver let his breath out on a disgusted sigh. Honestly, he wasn’t fit to be out in public.

“Come on, Strudel. Bedtime.”

He patted his thigh and Strudel followed him through the house as he switched off lights. She leaped onto the end of the bed when they got to the bedroom and began sniffing around for the best spot to make camp for the night. He went to brush his teeth.

There was an echo of embarrassed color in his face when he saw his reflection. No surprises there—he’d been in the grip of a full-body blush from the moment Mackenzie had pulled away from him and the uninvited kiss.

Bloody hell, what a night.

He squeezed toothpaste onto his brush and cleaned his teeth with grim determination, unable to escape the live-action replay his brain insisted on feeding him on an endless loop: Mackenzie, jerking away from him, her head hitting the door with a resounding thud.

Stupidly, he’d thought the evening had actually been going okay, too, up until that point. Okay, Edie calling hadn’t