Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy 2)

“No,” she said, automatically honest in return. Romantically speaking, there was no interest or attraction. But Katrina wasn’t ready to share her job offer with Mason, not until she made some kind of decision, one way or the other.

He exhaled a relieved breath. “Good.”

She bit her bottom lip, knowing that she had her own concerns to express, and she was still honest-to-God floored at the direction of their conversation. This was Mason. Mason, coming to her asking her for a chance. It was everything she’d ever hoped for or dreamed about except . . .

“Do I need to worry about . . . other women?” It was a fair question, considering his track record, and she needed that reassurance.

“No, you don’t have to worry about other women,” he replied, his voice sincere, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since before Vegas. My dick doesn’t want anyone but you, Kitty-Kat.”

She laughed lightly, even as the cynical part of her brain whispered the question, for how long? “Umm, that’s so . . . romantic?”

“It’s the truth.” He lifted his hands and framed her face in his palms, the warmth and affection in his gaze unmistakable. “I want this to be so different with you, but this is unchartered territory for me. Can we just take it slow and easy and see where it goes?”

He wasn’t asking for forever, not that Katrina had expected him to considering this was all new to him. And because she was well aware that there were no guarantees in any of this, she also knew exactly what was at risk—her emotions, and the potential for heartbreak if Mason decided he wasn’t cut out for a committed relationship. Not to mention ruining their friendship, which she cherished and meant so much to her.

But she also knew if she didn’t take this chance with him, she’d always look back and regret it, as well as wonder what if. She’d loved this man for so many years, and for the first time in his life, he was trying to open himself up to a deeper, closer, more intimate relationship, which took time. Time he was willing to invest in a relationship with her. Something he’d never, ever done before for another woman, and she couldn’t deny that she was going into this cautious and guarded.

“You’re looking at me with those big, wide eyes, and I have no idea what you’re thinking,” he said as he stroked his thumbs along her cheek, making her realize how long she’d been silent—obviously long enough to make him worry. “But I need you to say yes, that you’ll give me a chance.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said, and a rush of excitement zipped through her at the thought of being his.

A release of breath escaped him as he pulled her mouth up to his and kissed her, so slow and deep and sweet it made her ache. He slid one of his hands into her hair and pressed his lower body into hers while tracing her lips with his tongue before sweeping back inside. Beneath the zipper of his jeans, he was hard and thick, all for her.

The knowledge thrilled her, and she melted against him while pushing her palms beneath the hem of his T-shirt so she could touch the hard, muscular plane of his stomach. What she wanted even more was to lick her way down his chest and drag her tongue lower, until she was kneeling on the floor and had his shaft between her lips.

Excited by the thought, she tugged on the button securing his jeans, but he caught her wrists and stopped her before she could get inside. He ended the hot kiss and stared down at her while pressing her palm to the outline of his erection.

“Fuck,” he breathed as she squeezed him tightly through the denim. “That’s what you do to me, Kitty-Kat.”

She liked how that sounded. Loved that she had the ability to make him so hard and eager. “I can do a lot more,” she said, and licked her lips so there would be no mistaking what kind of pleasure she was referring to.

He laughed huskily and raised a brow. “Are you using me for sex?” he asked with feigned indignation.

She grinned up at him, feeling ridiculously happy. And hopeful. “Maybe.”

He groaned. “I can’t believe these words are leaving my mouth, but I didn’t come over here in hopes of getting a blow job. I was actually hoping that tonight could be our first official date.”

Another shock rippled through her, that he’d actually thought this evening through. “Our first date is pizza, ice cream, and a scary movie?”

The corner of his mouth quirked, and he rubbed a hand along the slight evening stubble on his jaw. “I’m not one to wine and dine. Hell, I don’t even like wine, but if that’s what you want, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Last night with Blake, Katrina had learned that she wasn’t a wine-and-dine kind of woman, either. “What you brought over is absolutely perfect.” And for them, it truly was.

“Then let’s eat the pizza while it’s still warm.”

While she poured the root beer over ice, Mason served up the pizza, and they took their meal to her small dining table and sat next to each other. They talked about work for a while, their exchange effortless, easy, and familiar. And for the first time in a long while, Katrina felt happy. She was so glad to have her best friend back, because she’d missed this kind of casual, comfortable conversation with him. But she couldn’t deny the zing of excitement inside her knowing he truly wanted something more.

He ate two pieces of pizza and went back for a third while she finished her second slice at a much slower pace. While she chewed a bite, Mason’s expression changed to something more serious, and his brow creased as he seemed to contemplate something that was in his head.

“Everything okay?” she asked, wondering where his mind had gone and what he was thinking.

He set his crumpled napkin on his plate, pushed it aside, and turned his head to look at her. “You know, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about since Vegas, but there really hasn’t been a good time.”

So much had happened during that weekend, and she had no idea where this chat was headed. “Okay.”

“That last night when we were together . . . I felt those scars on your hip,” he said, bringing up a topic she had no desire to discuss with him. Ever. “You didn’t want to talk about it then, which I respected.”

He stared at her gently but intently, and the pizza in her stomach suddenly felt as though it had turned to lead in the pit of her belly. A sense of dread welled up inside her, and she desperately tried not to let her panic show. He hadn’t asked her a question yet, and she wasn’t going to offer up details until she knew exactly what he wanted to know. Even then, she wasn’t sure she could bear to tell him the truth.