The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

As they stood in the darkened doorway, the peaceful silence shattered by Peaches’s excited yapping, Daisy stared up into his unreadable features and wondered how one ended a fake date properly. Handshake? A polite thank-you and a quick escape through the door? An invitation in to coffee?

Although that last one strayed dangerously close to normal post-date behavior.

“So . . . thanks,” she ventured, fumbling with her keys as she struggled to unlock the door. He took the keys from her and efficiently unlocked it for her. She took them back with another mumbled “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The words were silky and murmured directly into her ear. She hadn’t known he was leaning in so close, and the feeling of his warm breath on her cold skin completely disconcerted her. Her hand dropped to the door handle as she prepared to remove herself from the uncomfortable situation. But when she tugged at the door nothing happened, and she was confused for a moment, until she looked up and saw that he had a hand flat against the wooden surface, easily preventing her from opening it.

Convinced that he didn’t know that he was blocking her way in, she turned to face him and saw his teeth gleam in the pale light spilling out from her living-room windows.

“I can’t open . . .” Her voice faded when he leaned in even farther, his bulk making her feel small and more than a little trapped. She tensed, her heart speeding up and accelerating her breathing in the process. What was this? If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was going to kiss her, but that was a ridicu—

Her frantic thought processes ground to a screeching halt when his lips dropped to hers. It wasn’t a demanding kiss—in fact, one would be hard-pressed to call it much of a kiss at all. It was just a light press of his lips on hers. Sweet, chaste, and incredibly confusing. Their lips were the only point of contact between them, and Daisy froze in shock. Not entirely sure how to respond to this.

She felt his mouth—those soft, velvety lips—stretch into a smile against hers and she resentfully wondered what he found so amusing about this. Was he making fun of her? Was this just some elaborate joke on his part?

It was her worst fear come to life. That this interesting, intelligent, likable, and very good-looking man might find her a source of amusement and pity like all of the other men around here.

His body shifted, and she went even more rigid, ready to flee if he said even one hurtful word. But all he did was bring his warm, callused hands up to cup her face. He lifted his lips, ending the passionless, innocent little kiss.

“Relax.” The word brushed across her lips delicately, and her brows lowered as she pondered the gentle command. She wasn’t given long to think about it before his lips were pressed to hers again, and this time there was nothing chaste or ambiguous about the kiss. It was hungry.

His lips parted hers, and before she knew it his tongue was there, a living, ravening thing, a restless flame, demanding more than she knew how to give. She moaned and melted against him, opening herself up to him, her own tongue tentatively stroking against his. Answering his insistent demand for more.

He groaned and his body folded around hers, pushing her against the door as her front was pressed up against his chest. She felt none of the cold winter air, and the rain—which had started up again—didn’t stand a chance of touching any part of her because Mason was there, jealously hoarding her senses for himself. He was all she could see while his scent surrounded her and his warmth and hardness enveloped her, making her feel safe and protected. The rich taste of him, coffee mingled with mint, intoxicated her. And she was deaf to anything but the sound of his breathing and his soft moans.

In those long few moments, Mason Carlisle was her entire world. Nothing else existed outside the circle of his arms, and Daisy gave herself up to him entirely.

Mason knew he had to stop this. He was getting too carried away. Too wrapped up in Daisy McGregor. What a delightful little armful she was—soft, warm, and sweet-smelling—with a tart, irresistible tongue that he wouldn’t mind sucking on all night long.

It was that thought—the recognition that if he did not let her go right now, he’d seduce his way into her bed—that drew him up short. He took one last, hungry taste before reluctantly easing away from her. She was trembling, which made him immensely thankful, because that meant she couldn’t feel how badly he was shaking too. His hands dropped from her face, and he instantly missed the feel of her soft skin. He stepped back and put an inch of space between them and immediately sucked in a sharp breath when the frigid air intruded where before there had been only heat.