Blindsided Read online

  I blanch at his filthy words. “What’s wrong with asking to come? Perhaps it’s his polite way of asking if I’ve come!”

  Mac eyes me knowingly. “If I’m balls deep in a lass, I know exactly when she comes, Cookie.”

  “Oh, shut up. You can’t know everything.”

  “I’d absolutely know when you come, Freya.”

  “How?”

  “Because I imagine you’d get a look on your face similar to when you’re watching a gut-wrenching scene on Heartland.”

  He turns his green eyes to me, and the way he’s looking at me starts a stirring in my lower belly. “That is a very bizarre assumption,” I state, embarrassed at the sudden shift in my voice.

  His brows lift as he realises I’m actually considering his offer. “Aye, Freya. Only because deep down, you know it’s probably true.”

  I inhale sharply at the wicked promise in his velvety eyes and feel myself reach out and grab my water bottle from him. Our fingers brush, and it feels like our touch is electrified. When did Mac and I start having sexual tension? Has it always been there, and I’ve just ignored it? It makes no bleddy sense. He’s him, and I’m…me.

  I take a long sip of my water, avoiding his gaze because I can feel him staring at me, and I hate that it’s making my thighs clench together.

  “Don’t you at least have to be attracted to someone to have sex with them?” I ask, staring straight ahead and feeling the blood inside my ears begin to simmer.

  Mac says nothing so I chance a glance at him and feel my lips part when I see his eyes are laser focused on my exposed legs in the short dress he picked out for me. “I’ve never once said I wasn’t attracted to you, Cookie.”

  A coughing spasm rips itself up my throat, and I quickly down the rest of my water in an attempt to splash out the fire burning inside of me.

  His voice is deep and husky when he asks, “Are you not at all attracted to me?”

  Deep breaths, Freya. Nice, deep, calm breaths. “What a stupid question,” I retort and squeeze my plastic water bottle tightly in my sweaty hands.

  “Have you ever thought about me sexually?” Mac asks, shifting closer to me on the sofa. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my shoulder when he adds, “Because I have thought about you.”

  “You have?” I bark out, feeling like cameras are going to come out of the shadows at any minute because I’m most certainly being Punk’d.

  But Mac has zero humour on his face when he replies, “Aye, you’re a bonnie lass. I’d have to be into blokes not to fancy the idea of shagging you.”

  My eyes slam shut, feeling horribly overwhelmed by everything he’s saying. I begin rubbing my painfully warm ears, certain I look like a complete idiot but not sure how to stop myself. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Mac clears his throat, and replies, “But if you’re not attracted to me like that, then there’s no sense in us—”

  “I think you’re fit!” My eyes pop open at my embarrassing chirp of a response, and I turn to face his adorably bemused face.

  Mac’s eyes drop to my cleavage, and he extends his arm around the back of the sofa. “Are you sure about that?”

  I roll my eyes and try to ignore his delicious scent being wafted all over me like a sexy skunk spray. Are sexy skunk sprays a thing?

  “I mean, you’re fit in that obvious athletic footballer sort of way. It’s basically a true or false question, though. Asking if a big, tattooed, handsome footballer is attractive is what one would call an objective inquiry. There’s no subjectivism involved.”

  “You’re having another one of your outbursts, Freya,” he states seriously, reaching out and tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, then pausing to grip my earlobe between his forefinger and thumb. “And your ears are objectively on fire right now.”

  “Shut up, you cow,” I whisper, feeling a prickling sensation erupt all over my skin at his tender touch.

  Mac shakes with laughter, and I feel it squarely between my legs. “But subjectively or objectively, I think you’re beautiful, and it would be my pleasure to make your first time special.”

  “Just as friends?” I ask, turning to eye him with nervous curiosity.

  “Best friends,” he replies, his eyes becoming more serious and less sexy. “But you should give it some time and think about it.”

  He stands up from his seat, and I stare up at him, my mouth agape. “What?”

  He shrugs, completely breaking the heated moment I thought we were sharing. “It’s a big decision. You’ve held onto your virginity this long, so you should be sure that you’re ready.”

  “Um, I’m damn near thirty. I think that makes me overly ready.”

  Mac offers me a lopsided smile. “Sleep on it. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my head and then pauses for a second, his hand moving to my chin and raising my face to his. He brushes his lips with mine, and says, “Night, Cookie.”

  “Good night?” I breathe out on a sigh, and all I hear is Mac’s infuriating laughter as he lets himself out of my flat.

  What a fucking cow.

  “I need to talk to you about something, but you have to promise not to breathe a word of it to anybody. Not even Allie.” I eye my roommate seriously the next morning as we find ourselves face to face in the kitchen. I’ve caught Roan in a rare moment when his fiancée is nowhere in sight, and I’m going to take full advantage of it.

  “Okay,” Roan replies curiously. He’s got a bowl of oatmeal in his hand and his spoon is frozen midair. “Should I sit down for this?”

  “Don’t be daft,” I scoff and lean back against the kitchen counter and cross my arms over my chest. “But you can’t do that thing couples do where they think they don’t have to keep secrets from each other because they’re in love and they share the same mind. I genuinely don’t want you to tell Allie about this. Can you promise me that?”

  Roan puts the spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth and moves to set his bowl down on the counter to give me his full attention. He crosses his arms over his chest to match my pose. “What the hell is going on, Mac?” he says around a full mouth.

  I exhale heavily. “I offered to take Freya’s virginity last night.”

  Roan begins choking on his oatmeal. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying,” I state seriously. “I didn’t even know I was going to do it until all of a sudden, I was in her lift offering to take her maiden tag.”

  “Her what?” Roan exclaims, beating his chest to get the last bits of food down his throat.

  I shrug. “It’s what she calls her virginity. It doesn’t matter. Do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I’ve ruined everything?”

  Roan barks out a laugh and hoists himself up onto the counter opposite me, trying to shake off the obvious shock he has over this recent development. “That’s a loaded question, man.”

  “I know,” I reply and grip the back of my neck. “What do you think, though?”

  Roan grabs his glass of water and takes a sip before saying, “I think it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether you love her.”

  “Love her? What do you mean?” I snap, annoyed that he’s going in this direction with his advice. “This isn’t about love, Roan. This is about my friend thinking it’s wise to just go out there and have sex with some stranger like Santino because she doesn’t want to be a thirty-year-old virgin with no date for your bloody wedding.”

  “Oh, I see,” Roan says knowingly. “So you’re planning to take her virginity as a charity project.”

  “Fuck off…that’s my friend you’re talking about.”

  Roan’s brows lift knowingly. “Mac, if you’re trying to tell me that you taking Freya’s virginity is some selfless act that you’re doing just to be a good mate, I’m going to have to call you a liar. You wouldn’t have offered to have sex with her if you didn’t have feelings for her.”

  This brings me pause. “I don’t have feelings for
her…not like that at least. I mean, aye sure, I’ve always thought she’s bonnie and recently, there’s a new sort of attraction between us that’s been growing.”

  “An attraction?” Roan lowers his chin and eyes me with curiosity.

  “A spark or something,” I state, having flashbacks to Freya’s lips on mine in my bedroom and how that seriously awakened the beast inside me. “It wasn’t there before. Not as much, at least.”

  Roan frowns, clearly not believing me.

  “But the minute she started talking about dating other blokes, I started seeing her in a new light.”

  “A sexual light,” Roan offers helpfully.

  “Aye, sure, whatever you want to call it. I know we won’t end up together. I don’t want to settle down, and even if I did, I drive her bloody nuts. We’d never make it as a couple. But maybe…maybe if we…give in to these urges…we can get back to the way we used to be…before.”

  “Before you saw her in a sexual light?”

  “It sounds daft when you put it like that,” I growl, wondering why the fuck I agreed to be this arsehole’s best man. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  I move to head into my bedroom, and Roan reaches out and presses his hand to my shoulder. “I’m sorry for teasing you, man. I just want you to be careful.”

  “Careful?” I ask with a frown.

  “You remember what it was like when Cami ended things with you.”

  I inhale sharply at his mention of her name. “The problem with Cami was that it went on for too damn long. I became dependent on her, and when she ended it, I was fucked in the head. That was my problem, not hers.”

  I cringe when I think back to some of the worst games of my career last season after we split. Coach threatened to bench me on more than one occasion. I can’t say I blame him. All I could think about while I was out on that pitch was the advice my grandad gave me as a wee child about staying far away from women or they’ll mess up my game.

  He was right.

  It wasn’t until I started seeing Cami again, truly as just friends, that my game began to improve again. It was a serious mindfuck.

  “I wouldn’t do this long-term with Freya,” I state by way of explanation. “She’s different than Cami.”

  Roan nods, clearly believing my words. “Then I think it can be okay. As long as you’re both clear on what it is exactly.”

  “Just sex,” I confirm. “Just the one time.”

  “Right.” He shrugs and shoots me a weird smile. “You’ll be all right.”

  My brows furrow because he has a strange sort of look on his face that could be interpreted differently. But I don’t want to interpret it differently. I want this to work. I need this to work. I ignored Freya for days after our kiss because I wasn’t sure I could stand not to kiss her again if I saw her. Us having sex together, doing this, it’ll help scratch that itch and get us back on track.

  Fuck me, I hope she says yes.

  I make my way into my bedroom, and my phone pings, indicating a text message has come through. I flop down onto my bed and pull it out of my pocket to see it’s a text from Freya.

  Cookie: Are you wanting to back out?

  Me: Is this some kinky sex position you’re propositioning? Cookie, I really think your first time shouldn’t involve the back door.

  Cookie: Shut up, you cow. I just mean…do you want to back out on your offer of The Sex.

  I don’t even try to fight my smile.

  Me: Christ, seeing it in text is even worse than when you say it out loud. Promise me after I shag you, you’ll stop calling it THE Sex.

  Cookie: So this means you’re not backing out?

  Me: Cookie, I wouldn’t have offered something I’m not fully committed to providing. I’m a doer.

  Cookie: That’s what she said.

  Me: That’s what you’ll say.

  Cookie: Oh! I should tell you that I don’t take birth control pills, so do I need to buy condoms or something? Don’t I need to know your size? Do you have one of those flexible craft tape measurers? If not, I can come over and measure you.

  Me: …

  Cookie: Mac?

  Me: …

  Cookie: Mac? Are you measuring right now?

  Me: …

  Me: Freya, I’ve never in my life had a woman ask me to measure my cock, and I’m not sure I’m okay.

  Cookie: What? Is that weird? I thought it seemed responsible.

  Me: For starters, men should buy the condoms. It’s literally the least we can do. Secondly, if I don’t know the size of my cock by now, I’m not doing this bloke thing right. And thirdly, if you ever come at my dick with something that has the word “craft” in it, I’ll never have a hard-on again.

  Cookie: Fine, no need be dramatic about it.

  Me: When it comes to my cock, there’s no messing about. Got it?

  Cookie: Got it. So when are we doing this?

  Me: I’ll pick you up at 5 tomorrow.

  Cookie: Tomorrow? Why don’t you just come over here tonight and get it over with?

  Me: Cookie, I’m taking your maiden tag to make it special, not to just get it over with. I need time to give you an epic, craft -free memory. Just trust me, all right?

  Cookie: Okay…What should I wear? That dress you bought me?

  Me: If Santino touched it, burn it. Just…surprise me.

  Cookie: Okay…see you tomorrow. Xx

  Me: xx

  Is this the right outfit to wear on the night you’re going to lose your virginity? I wonder to myself as I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror propped inside my bedroom. I purchased an obscene number of potential options for tonight, but the black velvet mermaid-shaped dress I found in a vintage shop refuses to be ignored.

  It hits me mid-calf like all the other things I love to wear, but it’s formfitting, so I’m hoping Mac will approve. He’s still technically my love coach, right? So I guess this means I want to please him. Plus, the gorgeous crisscross halter bustline certainly accentuates all my more favourable assets.

  I even splurged on some new black lace knickers for the evening because the thought of Mac seeing me remove my Spanx is a humiliation I’d like to avoid for the rest of my life if at all possible. Black Mary Jane heels finish off the chic look along with my red sweeping curls that I’ve gathered around onto one shoulder. I feel good. I feel ready and prepared to pass my maiden tag off to my good friend, Mac.

  Now if only I knew what we were doing tonight.

  Part of me wishes Mac would just show up and do me right away. Get it over with so I can stop fretting. But then part of me thinks it might be fun to pretend this is a real date with a real man who might actually fancy me as more than a friend.

  There I go with my Heartland fantasies again. Mac is no Canadian cowboy, and I’m not riding down the aisle on a pony to marry him at the end of all this. This is a realistic means to an end. Nothing more.

  A knock on the door sends Hercules sprinting for my bedroom, and I get an overwhelming sense of wrestling kittens niggling in my belly. I quickly slick on my matte red lipstick, ignoring the kittens and grabbing my green handbag off the counter. When I open the door, my heart skips a beat because it’s not just my friend standing on the threshold in his normal casual wear.

  It’s my friend standing there looking really sexy. He’s wearing freshly pressed black trousers and a white dress shirt cuffed at the sleeves showing hints of his tattooed arms. It’s sophisticated with a touch of edge. A heady combination.

  He’s had his hair cut too, leaving a good amount of his ginger length intact, but it’s lost the shapeless flop it had before. I finally look him in the eyes and am flabbergasted when I realise Mac isn’t looking at my face. He’s looking at my body.

  And the way his dark gaze sweeps every square inch of my curves is positively indecent.

  I clear my throat and touch the smooth velvet of my skirt. “I know it’s not showing off my legs but—”

  “You’re perfect,” Mac
interrupts, his voice husky, and breathy, and wicked all at the same time. He haphazardly hands over a giant bouquet of pink carnations, and adds, “You’re the bonniest lass I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  I bring the flowers to my nose and level him with a disbelieving look. “Look, Mac, I know you said you wanted tonight to be special for me, but seriously, you can save the cheesy inflated compliments for another girl. It would be a shame for me to vomit all over my nice new dress.”

  “Dammit, woman,” Mac growls, his face turning from heated to angry in the blink of an eye. “Could you just take a compliment without a self-deprecating reply for once in your life?”

  My shield of humour vanishes as I look up at Mac with my lips parted. “I’m sorry,” I reply on reflex because I didn’t realise poking at myself would get him so wound up. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Humour is sort of my default.”

  Mac’s face instantly softens, but his eyes remain fierce on mine. “Aye, I know, Freya. But I meant what I said. It wasn’t a polite remark. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I manage to reply without sounding too disbelieving. I glance down at my bouquet. “And thank you for the flowers.”

  “You’re welcome,” he states firmly. He exhales a heavy breath as though he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, then offers up his arm. “Now, can I take you on this date that I spent nearly the entire day organizing? I’m dying to see your reaction.”

  There are those kittens in my belly again.

  With a soft smile, I set the flowers down on the inside table and slip my arm in his. I have no clue what to expect tonight, but if Mac spent the whole day on it, I’m sure it’s going to be unforgettable.

  The car ride is quiet as I drive Freya to our first stop of the evening. The sun is just beginning to set, and the golden rays shining through her red hair are agonizingly distracting.