“Mac, baby, you okay?”

“Huh?” He’s called me baby before, and just like the first time, I’m struck stupid.

A soft but worried smile plays across his lips. “You keep zoning out.”

He doesn’t know of our history; if he did, I’m sure he’d find his mind wandering off to the past. Will I ever be able to spend time with him without going there? Maybe if I just tell him, get it all out so that we can move past it, maybe then things will get easier.

“Shit.” Rex rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re into Caleb.”

“What! No!” On instinct, my hand moves to rest on his thigh. “Rex. No. I don’t want Caleb.”

His blue eyes search mine.

“I’m . . . I’ve got a few things on my mind, but they have nothing to do with me not wanting to be here with you.” I squeeze his leg and a tight hiss leaks from his lips. Afraid that I’d hurt him, I pull my hand back. His eyes stay fixed on the place where my grip held his leg. “Rex, I’m sorry. I—”

His hand darts out to grab mine and he pulls hard, tugging my upper body over the center console. Our lips meet in a hungry kiss. The metal ring on his mouth bites into my flesh. His tongue lashes against mine, stirring my blood in a violent rush. I shove my weight up and over, needing to feel more of him. The warmth of his chest brushes against my nipples, sending shockwaves of need down my torso.

On a quest to consume him, I rasp my teeth against his lower lip and bite. He groans and tangles his hands into my hair. My scalp stings as he pulls me back. He wants me to slow down, or ease off, but I’m not in control anymore. The culmination of everything I’ve ever felt for Rex is crashing together, whirling around in a chaotic tornado of need. I delve in deeper, pressing myself against him until my breasts ache. My hand roams his body. The soft cotton of his shirt feels like sandpaper to my over sensitized palm. I push the fabric up to slide my hand beneath it. I’m met with the warm solid muscles of his abdomen. So hard and smooth like—

“Fuck!” He pushes me back so hard that I drop down into my seat and my shoulder knocks against the door. “I can’t.” Burying his head in his hands, he scrubs them through his hair.

I’m breathing heavy, trying like hell to understand what just happened. “I’m sorry. Did I . . . What did I do?”

He sits back and fists the steering wheel so tight it squeaks under the pressure. “I don’t—Fuck.”

I reach out and rest my hand on his back, hoping to comfort him, but he jerks away. I tuck my hand in my lap and curl around it as a bitter wave of rejection washes over me.

“I really like kissing you.” His voice is so quiet that if I weren’t paying close enough attention I would’ve missed it.

“Is that bad?” All I want to do is fix it, make whatever he’s going through better. Take his pain away.

“It is for me.”

Finally he turns toward me, and I fight the urge to recoil at the war raging behind his eyes. Every instinct tells me to pull him into my arms and hold him, but he threw off my touch earlier, and I don’t want to make things worse.

“That kiss was different from the others.” He turns away from me, looking out the window.

Different how? I guess I was a little more aggressive than I was the other times we kissed. Up until the hallway, our kisses have been nothing more than soft pecks. My mind goes back to the kiss at Jonah’s. He pushed me back against the wall, pinning me there with his hips. What was so different about then and now? Other than . . . I was the aggressor. He felt attacked, and considering what he’s been through . . .

I gasp then quickly cover my mouth. The sound and movement draws his eyes back to me.

“Rex, I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast and I wasn’t thinking. My feelings just took over and I lost control.” My words are rushed as they pour from my lips with the hope that they’ll make him stay. “I need to be more careful with you. I understand that now. It won’t—”

“Careful?” The blues of his eyes almost disappear between the tight slits of his lids. “Why do you say that?”

Dammit, I’m fucking it all up!

My head is a jumble of shit, half scrambled from the kiss and half desperate for the right words. “Things are moving too fast.” I force myself to sound casual even though I’m feeling anything but. “You’ve saved me from a dark alley, kept me from slipping into a coma after I got cold-cocked by a biker, and rescued me from a supply room.”

Recognition clears some of the pain from his eyes at the mention of the supply room.

A small smile pulls at my lips. “All that and we haven’t even been on a date.”

The sides of his lips tick up, and he blinks away the last of the hurricane of emotion he wore on his face.

I tap my lips with my forefinger. “You know I’m pretty sure every good superhero takes the girl out after he rescues her.”

“That’s not true. You’re watching the wrong cartoons.”

“Yeah, you may be right, but in my fairytale he does. That would mean you’d owe me . . .” I make a show of counting on my fingers. “Does you saving me from Caleb count?”

He blinks and shakes his head. “I didn’t save you from Caleb.”

“Ah, but you will.” I lean forward to whisper, grateful to see that he leans in to listen rather than away. “I gave him your phone number instead of mine.”

He turns to me, and this time there’s no hint of a smile or shadow of humor. This time he’s grinning so big that I can see all his teeth and the cute way his eyes crinkle at the sides. “No shit?”

He falls back into his seat, his chin tilted high as the deep bass of his rolling laughter bounces around the truck cab. My eyes fall shut, and I allow myself a few seconds to bathe in the beauty of the sound. When I open them again, he’s still chuckling and looking straight ahead.

“Caleb’s going to be shocked when he calls to hear your sweet voice and gets mine.” With the truck still idling, he knocks it into drive.

Did he just call my voice sweet? My stomach flips and there’s a warm swell in my chest.

“Wait a minute.” He turns toward me. “How do you know my phone number?”

Uh-oh.

I clear my throat, thinking fast. “I uh . . . got it from Mario after the whole flat-tire thing. I was going to call you to apologize for . . . you know, but decided it needed to be done in person.”

“Really?”

No, I stole it from Mario six months ago and sometimes call just to hear your voicemail. “Yeah.” I give my most convincing smile.

He shrugs and doesn’t look too concerned about the fact that I not only have his phone number but that I also have it memorized.

“About that date.” He pulls out of Jonah’s long driveway and into the neighborhood. “Do you like rollercoasters?”

And with that simple question all the tension is gone. “Hell yeah, I do.”

~*~

Rex

That was close. I almost broke down and told Mac everything. Confessed that I have issues with sex and that I only hook up with sluts that’ll take what I give and then walk away and that I never hook up with a woman without alcohol as a barrier between what my body has to accomplish and how my thoughts respond. At least, until Mac.

Thank God she didn’t push the issue. I’m not sure why she didn’t. Instead, she diffused the whole conversation by redirecting it to our date.

She says I’m the one doing all the rescuing, but she took a hit for me once, and then another by changing the subject of our conversation.

“Are we going to the strip?” She looks out her side window to the Las Vegas landmark just off the freeway.

It’s not dark out, but even under the sun, the strip stands out against the bland desert backdrop.

“Yeah, I’ve ah . . . There’s a place I go to, and I thought you might like it.” My face heats at how awkward it feels to share this part of me with another person. I have two sides, the public side that acts for a crowd of screaming fans whether that’s from a stage or a cage and the darker side that I keep to myself. Most of the guys I’m close to have seen glimpses of my fucked-up psyche, and the few hookers I’ve paid for relief have witnessed the aftermath of it, but to willingly bring a person in on it? Yeah, this is new.

“Sounds intriguing.”

“I figure if you ride a motorcycle then you’re a bit of a thrill seeker. We’ll see how brave you are on Insanity.” I’m off the freeway and headed to the Stratosphere, which advertises the three most terrifying thrill rides in the world.

“Insanity? What is it?” She’s pressing her cheek up against the passenger-side window, trying to look up to the top of the casinos that are coming into view.

“It’s a ride that hangs you 1,000-feet high facing the street and spins you ’til you puke or pass out.” I bite down on my molars, waiting for the screaming girl freak out.

She turns to me, her eyes wide. Yep, here comes the freak out.

“Fuck yeah!” She bounces in her seat like a damn kid. “Let’s do it!”

What the hell? “Really? You’re down?”

“Are you kidding me?” Leaning forward, she looks up through the windshield. “Are we close?”

I point out my side window to the Stratosphere in the distance. “Over there.”

She crosses the center console with her torso in order to look out my window. The intoxicating tropical smell of her hair is so close I hold back the urge to grab a fistful and bury my nose in it.

Before I get the chance, she sits back in her seat. Her hand flies to her belly and she smiles. “I have butterflies.”

I’ve seen the tough side of Mac, the tomboy who jumps in front of bikers, the scared shitless side at being locked in a room alone, and even the softer side after a bad dream, but this side, the cute childlike excitement, is my favorite so far. There’s an innocence to her now that I envy—a carefree joy that I’ve only seen in others but can never remember feeling.

We pull up to the lobby of the Stratosphere. By the time I’m finished dealing with the valet, Mac’s already out and waiting for me by the doors. She’s grinning and bouncing on her toes.

“Let’s go.” I smile and grab her hand to lead her through the hotel casino, bypassing the ticket counter.

She pulls back against my hold, resisting. “Tickets.” She points to the sign that clearly states we need tickets to the tower and rides. “Don’t we need to buy them here first?”

“Nope.” I tug her hand and move toward the bank of elevators. “They know me here. I come a lot, so I pay monthly and they let me do whatever I want.”

She stops us again. “Oh, well here.” Reaching into the small purse she has hung diagonally from one shoulder to her hip, she pulls out some cash.

I shake my head. “Not takin’ your money, Mac. Put that shit away.”

“No, it’s okay.” She shakes the wad of green at me. “Take it. You don’t have to pay—”

I cup her jaw, pressing my thumb against her lips. Fuck, just the feel of them on my finger makes me want to taste them again, but I need to keep this friendly, more for her sake than mine. “Shhhh. Please, no more talk of you paying.”

She nods and puts her money away.

“Atta girl.” It takes all my effort to pull my hand from her face to avoid getting lost in her wide eyes, which are begging for more. Fuck, I need to reel in my shit. A few moments of silence pass between us.

We move again toward the elevator, but a few yards away, she stops again. What now?

“Mac.” I turn toward her to see her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide and fixed on the elevator doors.

“What is that?” Her hand in mine is clammy.

“Elevators to the top. That’s where the rides are.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” She shifts on her feet. “Can we take the stairs?” There’s a shakiness in her voice.

Stairs?

“Hey.” I tighten my hold and search her eyes. “You change your mind? We can do something else if you want.”

Her gaze darts to the elevator doors. “No, I want to go but, um . . .” She locks eyes with mine. “I hate elevators.” A weak smile pulls at her lips.

First hospitals and now elevators. What that’s all about?

“It’s a quick ride to the top. I’ll be right there with you.”

My reassurance seems to relax her a little. I lead her up the last few steps to the doors and press the arrow-up button.

She clears her throat. “How many levels to the top?”

“Over one hundred.”

Her head whips around, eyes on mine, and the pale brown sparks with panic. “One hundred?”

I turn to face her head on. “Walk through your fears. You’ll realize it’s not as bad as you think.” It’s good advice, but very seldom works for me. “You’ll be fine. Promise.”