“So I can see you.” His thumb traced the camisole’s strap gently, running down the back of my shoulder blade. “I want to see you so bad.”
“Let’s not,” I said, my throat tight with the urge to mutter, ‘Screw it; take me now!’
It had been over a year since I’d had sex. Up until this very second, I would’ve sworn I didn’t miss it in the least. Jeremy, my one and only source of experience on the subject, hadn’t exactly been famous for his giving nature. I did not have fond memories.
But Mason barely grazing my tummy had me totally reconsidering.
He leaned his face in close to the back of my head, inhaling deeply. “Damn it, Reese. I have a plan.”
His touch turned desperate and scorching hot. Catching my hip, he pulled me snug against him. When my bottom cradled his erection through all our clothes, I grasped a handful of pillows by my head and sucked in a lungful.
Don’t grind back, Reese. Whatever you do, don’t grind back.
I couldn’t help it; I arched my tush out and rubbed against him. Hard. He groaned and slid his hand into the waistband of my shorts, cradling me low—oh, so very low—on my abdomen as if to guide my movements.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Was he going to…?
Holy hell. His palm slid between my legs, pressing against me through my panties. My breathing went short and shallow. I panted, trying to control myself, but the tingling in my breasts and the ache he was stroking with his fingers was throwing off my concentration.
“Mason,” I choked out.
“We can’t do this,” he said, his voice full of naked need while he used the cloth of my underwear to sweep over a sensitive spot and make me cry out. “I have a plan. Don’t you understand?”
When he leaned in to take a flesh full of my shoulder between his teeth and grind his hips to my ass, I squeezed my eyes closed. “Yes, I…I understand. I understand I’m not part of your plan.”
A strangled sob tore from him. For a microsecond, he clutched me tight like he was going to throw his stupid plan by the wayside and shag me silly. The way he clung to me made me feel like a lifeline for his tortured soul. And the press of his fingers about had rockets blasting off behind my eyes. I was so freaking close.
Then he let out a pent-up breath.
“I respect you,” he grated out the words. “I admire, and adore, and respect you, Reese Randall. I will not do this.”
And just like that, his body went lax and his hand eased from the waistband of my shorts.
I held my breath as his nose burrowed through my hair before his lips found my scar. He kissed it gently. “Good night, friend,” he whispered before he turned away with his back abutted to mine.
Wrung out from how taut he’d wound my hormones, I let out a hard pant.
Fudge.
Mason Lowe might be a pure gentleman when it came to not taking advantage when there was alcohol involved, but he was also a damned dirty tease. I throbbed, physically throbbed for release.
He breathed deeply behind me, telling me he’d passed out. I was tempted to elbow him in the spine and wake his drunk butt up, demand some kind of compensation for the torture he’d just put me through.
But I admired, adored, and respected him too. And I totally dug that he felt the same. Besides, I would’ve regretted it in the morning because, come on, he’d almost gotten caught by a husband tonight. He was not the kind of guy a girl could start anything with.
Eyes watering with confusion, regret, depression, and a whole lot of sexual frustration, I buried my damp cheek into my pillow and cursed when my nose ring caught on the cloth. Clamping my thighs together to ease some of the ache between my legs, I waited for the morning to come. I didn’t try to climb over him again to escape, because sadly, despite all the heartache he was putting me through, there was nowhere else I want
ed to be but with him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I woke the next morning, wrapped in a snuggly human ball of warmth and not much else. Since it had become a habit to make sure my nose ring hadn’t come loose overnight, I patted my nostril to find everything in order and then let my hand settle on Mason’s forearm resting on my hip. His skin felt so nice I gave a little sigh of delight, trailing my fingers up and down his arm. Then I opened my eyes and blinked at the wall only about two inches away from my face.
Snuggly Mr. Lowe had hogged so much of the bed he had me nearly pinned against the sheetrock, and all the blankets were wrapped around him. I probably would’ve been cold if it wasn’t for the fact he was providing himself as my personal blanket. A toasty warm personal blanket.
Soaking in the experience of waking up in bed with him, I lay there for longer than I should have.
Despite everything, lying tangled up with him felt amazing. I could have stayed right where I was all day, but my bladder wasn’t so impressed by his cuddly warmth or drugging smell. The selfish thing demanded attention. Pronto. Whimpering as I unwound his arm from around my waist, I crawled over my blanket-wrapped bed partner and scampered for the bathroom.