“Oh, you can heal and stuff. But I think it would be best if you left.”

Lily discarded the immediate urge to dump her cup of coffee in Mac’s lap. Yes, he was acting like a caveman and a total ass, but she knew why.

He was afraid of losing her.

So while she was angry as hell about his alpha male insensitive behavior, she also knew he was trying to protect her by pushing her out of his life, because he loved her.

She wasn’t going to let him.

“You think it would be better if I left.”

“Wow, I think my favorite television show is on,” AJ said, shooting up off the couch as if it had been set on fire.

“Mine too.” Rick was right behind him.

“Stay right there,” Lily said. “There’s no need to run off, any of you.”

“There’s an argument brewing. A man/woman argument. We don’t want any part of it,” Spence said.

Lily arched a brow. “And here all this time I thought you guys were tough.”

“Angry females are worse than any enemy we could face,” AJ said.

“Funny. And for your information, I’m not going anywhere, unless you all took some secret vote and decided I was a nuisance and unwanted.” She laid her cup down on the end table and crossed her arms.

They all went silent, obviously not sure whether they wanted to take sides against Mac or incur her wrath.

“I think you’re brave, talented and gutsy, and you have a lot to offer our organization. You can be trusted, you’re well trained and you got off a nice shot to Belanfield before he took you down.” Grange stood in front of her. “I do believe you could use a little training, like when not to step in front one of your team members in order to take a bullet, and when to keep emotion out of the game, but other than that, I think you’d make a fine team member of the Wild Riders. Bit if you work for us, you won’t be assigned cases with Mac. You two could be a danger to each other.”

Obviously Grange had no problem speaking his mind.

She beamed under his praise, and understood his concerns.

“Thank you. And you’re right. I let my worry for Mac cloud my judgment. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s not going to happen at all. She’s not staying.”

Lily refused to listen to Mac’s railing, especially since his argument had no validity.

“I need a bath. Mac, would you mind helping me upstairs?”

He couldn’t very well argue about that, so he picked her up and she said good night to the guys—God, what time was it, anyway—it had to be the middle of the night.

He took her to their room and set her on the bed.

“I’ll run the tub water for you. Stay here. You’ll need me to help you.”

She nodded, not wanting to argue with him. She still felt grimy, blood still caked her wound and she wanted to wash her hair. Mac helped her into the tub. The bath felt wonderful, and she kept her injured arm above the level of the water. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

“I can wash your hair for you, if you’d like.”

She smiled, knowing Mac hadn’t left the bathroom, wouldn’t leave her there alone. He’d been watching over her since the moment he’d run into her at the museum in Chicago.

In his own misguided way, his idea to get rid of her was still watching over her.

Only it wasn’t going to work—she wasn’t leaving.

“I’d like that.”

He left her only long enough to find a plastic pitcher, then filled it with warm water, wetting her hair and lathering shampoo onto his hands. Lily let out a low moan of utter ecstasy as he massaged her head.

“Your fingers are magic.”

“I like touching you.”

She sighed. He really was very good at washing her hair, tenderly rubbing her scalp and neck, lingering over the task instead of performing it as if it were something to be done in a hurry. He laid her head back and cupped her neck in the palm of his hand as he poured clean water over her hair to rinse it. He even did the whole process over again with conditioner.

He grabbed the sponge and soaped her body, dipping it into the water and rubbing it over her legs, her hips, her arms, circumventing her injury. He took special care of where she’d been shot, using a washcloth to gently scrub away the dried blood.

“Does it hurt?”

He was bent over the tub, his face only inches from hers.

“No.”

“You were shot in almost the same place I was that night at the museum.”

She offered the hint of a smile. “We’ll have matching scars.”

He pressed his lips to hers, a gentle sweep. Her breath caught and held, the moment so sweet and magical. The steam from the bath water rose between them, and her heart pounded.

He pulled away, his gaze dark. “Seeing you shot scared the hell out of me, Lily.”

Now he wasn’t acting stupid, and she realized the depth of emotion reflected in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to get shot.”

“I had to do my job, ignoring you lying out there in the hallway, possibly bleeding to death, maybe even dead already.

Do you know how that made me feel?”

“Yes.” Because if their situations had been reversed, she’d have gone crazy. She reached up and cupped his cheek.

“I wanted to protect you, thought I had a good shot at Belanfield.”

“Like Grange said, you can’t do that stuff. I was about to pull my gun when you pushed me to the side like you were some kind of superhero, and you ended up getting yourself shot. You can’t let your emotions run the game, Lily.”

“Yes. But I love you..”

“I love you, too. But we have to put that love aside when we’re working together. I can’t work with you, knowing you’ll put your own life on the line for mine.”

She smiled. “That’s what people who love each other do. Don’t ever ask me to change that, because I won’t. Would you?”

He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and shook his head. “No. I guess I wouldn’t.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to take those kinds of risks.”

She sighed. “Okay. I’ll work on it.”

“You’re going to have to. You can’t do this and let emotion rule your judgment. Grange would never let you stay if you do.”

“Grange said we couldn’t work together,” she said, her lips turned down in disappointment.

“I can change his mind. But he was right. We have to be able to do our jobs—both of us—without emotion.”

“Can either of us do that?” she asked.

Mac shrugged. “I don’t know, babe. I worry about you.”

She studied him a minute, then nodded. “I don’t ever want to be afraid to do what I love to do, Mac. My father tried to prevent me from doing that. I really like this. It’s exciting, it fuels my love of adventure and law enforcement. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and not within reach of my father’s influence.”

“And if I told you that you couldn’t do this, that I refused to work with you because it was too dangerous for you, I’d be no better than your dad.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I just did.”

She knew this was difficult for him, that he did love her and want to protect her. But she also knew that she had to be allowed to stand on her own two feet, that she had to be allowed the freedom to grow and do what she really wanted to do—what she loved to do.

“I love you, Lily. I’ll never stop worrying about you every time you’re doing something dangerous. If I didn’t worry, it would mean I didn’t care. But I’d be ten times an as**ole if I got in the way of you living your dream. If this is what you really want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

Her eyes filled with tears. He really did understand.

“Help me up.”

He slipped his hand under her arms, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, gently drying her off after he pulled her out of the tub.

“What now?” he asked.

“Love me. Make love to me. I need to feel you inside me.”

He glanced down at her shoulder. “Your arm—”

“Is fine. I’m tough, Mac. I won’t break. Try me.”

He shook his head and picked her up, dragging his lips over hers.

Lily felt the rush of power—that same zing she’d felt with Mac since the very first time, and probably always would.

Her body flushed with heat, her ni**les tightening as Mac crushed her against him. And even though she felt the tension of his need, he was careful of her shoulder, easing her onto the bed.

He followed her there, sweeping his hand over her hip.

His touch was so tender, as if he stroked her with reverence.

“I told you I won’t break,” she said.

“I know you won’t. But I thought I’d lost you tonight.

So you’re just going to have to deal with the fact that I want to learn every inch of your body again.”

Her tough guy, the one she thought didn’t care at all about her. She was oh so wrong. The depth of Mac’s soul astounded her—the way he touched her was lava, his fingertips like molten fire along her skin.

He lay next to her, his body pressed up against hers. His c**k was hard, so rigid and beautiful she wanted to touch it.

She reached down, but Mac took her hand and laid it on the bed.

“Relax. Let me touch you.”

He brushed his hand along her hip, down her thigh, letting his fingers sweep along her inner thigh. She sighed, spread her legs, needing to feel his fingers parting the folds of her pu**y and dipping inside where she was wet and needy for him. She needed Mac to release the tension inside her.

But he didn’t touch her there, instead bypassing her sweet spot to sweep over her hip again, palming her belly, swirling his fingers around her navel. The muscles of her abdomen rippled as she laughed.

“That tickles. I thought you were supposed to be relaxing me.”

He cast her a devilish smile. “Workin’ on it.”

She raised her knees, planting her feet on the mattress.

“I have a great idea. Rub my clit. Make me come. Very relaxing.”

“You’re so direct.”

“I know what I like.”

“I’ll get there. Be patient. I’m still touching.”

She blew out a breath. A loud breath, just so he’d know how fast she was losing patience.

Apparently he didn’t care, because he grinned down at her with an evil leer and swept his hand upward, toward her breasts.

No. Not up! Down. But then he cupped her breast, letting his hand slide underneath to squeeze it between his fingers. And then he bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth, and oh, it was so sweet. The sensation shot fast and straight south, pooling low and hot in her core, making her cl*tquiver. She arched her back and immediately winced at the pain in her shoulder.

“Baby,” he said, pressing down on her middle. “Lay down and relax.”

“I can’t. I need—‘“

“Shhh, I know what you need.”

He moved down between her legs, lying on his belly and kissing her inner thigh.

“Don’t lift your shoulder. Don’t move,” he said, murmuring against her leg. “If you hurt yourself again, I’ll stop.”

“Yes, sir.” She pressed back against the mattress, determined to not move her upper half. She wanted him to lick her pu**y and she’d do anything for an orgasm.

But when his tongue snaked out and licked along her vulva, sweeping upward across her clit, she knew it was going to be torture to stay still, because she wanted to come up off the mattress. Sensation rocketed through her, every nerve ending coming to life. His tongue was like hot velvet along her sensitive flesh, making her arch her h*ps to get more.

Then he pressed his lips against her, covering her clit, using his mouth and his tongue to drive her to the brink. When he added his fingers, sliding two into her pussy, she knew all was lost. She tried to be gentle, she really did, but by now she didn’t care whether she hurt her shoulder or not. She was beyond feeling pain anyway. Pure pleasure had taken over.

Mac was the devil and he was taking her on the ride of her life, straight through the sweetest fires of hell, twisting his fingers inside her, swirling his tongue over her and sucking on her clit.

She fisted the sheets, lifted her ass and sailed over the edge into orgasm, letting out a hoarse cry as hot fluid spilled from within her. She shuddered and rocked against his face, while he continued to torture her all the way through the aftershocks until she gasped for breath.

Then he crawled up, fitting his c**k against her pu**y and thrust inside her at the same time he took her mouth. Salt and the sweet taste of Mac mingled on his tongue as he drove his c**k in deep, but with gentle strokes. She wrapped her legs around him and welcomed his heat and thickness, this joining that meant as much to her heart as it did to her body. With her good arm, she touched him—his face, his shoulders, entwining her fingers with his as he lifted her arm above her head and tightened his hold on her hand, moving against her with increasing rhythm.

She opened her eyes, lost in the depths of the whiskey brown ones looking back at her. Love was reflected there, something she never thought she’d see. It intensified every sensation, every stroke of his c**k inside her. She belonged to him, and he to her, and they would always care for each other.

There would never be another man who was so much a part of her like Mac. No other man understood her like Mac did.