Resolution (Mason Family 5)

I look at him, winding his tie around my hand. His eyes darken as one of my sleeves falls off my shoulder and lands midway down my arm. I’m aware of it; cool air kisses the once-covered piece of skin, but I give it no attention. I just wrap the silk around my knuckle and otherwise sit still.

There is a cushion between us—just enough space for me to get a full view of him. In the low, amber-colored light, all of the traits I love about Wade are amplified. He’s sharper, taller, darker. Sexier. And with the heat dissipating off the fireplace in front of us, my need to find relief from my overstimulation is nearly too much.

He reaches across the cushion with a deliberation that makes my insides quiver. He takes the tail end of his tie and gives it a tug. The other end is nestled in my palm with the rest of the fabric wrapped around my hand. I don’t let go. I can’t—not without letting the silk unwind first.

His lips form a sinful smirk as he guides me toward him. Once I’m closer, he drops the material and grips my hips instead.

His eyes lock with mine.

I bunch my dress at my hips, and then, as he lifts me, I move across his lap and straddle him.

I sink against him slowly.

His lips part. I raise a suspecting brow. Together, we grin.

Every cell in my body buzzes as I try to process the beauty of his unguarded smile, the feel of his hands cupping my ass—how hard his cock is, and how close it is to my opening.

I shift my hips, earning a slight hiss from Wade, and begin to work on his shirt buttons.

“Keep that up, and my self-control will be out the door,” he warns.

“Isn’t that the point?”

He chuckles, the sound scuffing against my already raw libido.

I can’t resist. “You know,” I say, smirking, “this is adding a level of intimacy in our relationship.”

He doesn’t answer me. He just hums in an acknowledgment that I spoke … and as a deflection.

I scoot back, ensuring that I rock against him as roughly as possible, and finish unbuttoning his shirt. He works his shoulders around, helping me rid him of it. Then he leans back against the sofa as if he’s not sitting there looking like a Greek god.

Damn.

I stare at his chest. I know I do. But the lines on this man’s body are insane.

Who knew the architect looked this … hot? Because it is hot. It exceeds handsome and good-looking and even gorgeous.

He. Is. Divine.

A heavy line runs from his neck out to the balls of his shoulders. A hollow spot just above his clavicle is a perfect spot for a kiss. His pecs are defined, his stomach is rock hard, and his sides go from wide to narrow at his hips in a way that makes me crazy.

“I don’t know how I like you better,” I say. “In a suit with glasses or like this.”

“I would imagine most women would prefer this, yes?”

“Some, maybe.”

I place my hands tentatively on his stomach and lean forward. His breath is hot against my lips. His eyes burn into mine. I hold them and smile.

“Despite all of the dirty things I hope you do to me with this body tonight,” I say as he tightens his grip on my waist, “I think I like your brain the best.”

His fingers relax a bit. “What?”

“Any guy can go to the gym and get a six-pack.”

“That’s an eight-pack, but thanks for noticing,” he teases. “I’ve worked really hard on that.”

I trail my fingers across the dips of his muscles and look him in the eye. “Good work. I approve.”

He shakes his head.

“But how many men can do what you do?” I ask, my voice sincerely curious. “How many can design homes and hotels? I mean, geez.”

A grin ghosts his lips.

“Most men can’t admit they’re wrong, and you kind of did that tonight.”

The almost-grin is gone, and a warning look is planted on his face. I laugh at it.

“And,” I say, ignoring the silent plea from Wade to stop talking, “not many men can walk into a room full of people—their families, even—and have everyone give them their full respect.”

He forces a swallow.

This wasn’t what he was expecting. But sometimes, the truth hurts, even when it shouldn’t.

“I don’t know if that’s true, necessarily,” he says.

“It is. I watched them.” I smile at him. “Every man in that room tonight wanted to be you and every woman wanted to be with you. Except maybe Blaire. She looked pretty in love. And the ones you’re related to because, you know …”

He chuckles, moving his hands back to my ass.

“If that is true, it’s because I walked in with you,” he says.

“Wade Mason,” I say, my cheeks flushing. I smack him gently on the chest. “Are you being sweet?”