Restraint (Mason Family 1)

A knowing look flickers across his face. I smile at him.

Busted.

I touch myself again. My jaw falls open as I gasp a quick breath that’s not as dramatic as it is necessary. Every fiber of my being is screaming a different warning, a different plea as Holt’s eyes are glued to my hand.

He jiggles the handle again.

I press harder into myself, urged on by the pure desire in his eyes. The contact makes my body pulse, and his gaze is snapped up to meet mine.

“Open the door,” he says. His tone is my favorite of his. It’s confident and strong. But I’ve heard it enough to be able to pick out the underlying thread of exasperation, and that’s what I choose to act on.

I grin, biting my bottom lip. My fingertips slip across my clit. They’re aided by my sweat and how turned on I am by the intensity of Holt’s gaze.

“Open up, Blaire.”

My legs fall to the sides. “Open like that? Is that better, Holt?”

“Be sure you know what you’re doing.”

I refuse to break eye contact. If I do, he’ll know that I don’t, in fact, know exactly what I’m doing, and if I pause to think about it, I might stop.

“Don’t you have something else to do?” I ask.

He remains perfectly still. “This isn’t funny.”

“Nope. It’s not,” I say, flicking the bud again. “Ah!”

“I will take this door off the motherfucking hinges.”

“Not before I come.”

He disappears.

I want to go to the window and see if he’s still here—not that I want to know if he is or isn’t. This is a twist in the scenario I didn’t think through. I’m not even sure who I am right now. I don’t act like this.

Before I can convince myself to slide out of the sauna and run to the guest room, I hear the sound of a motor. The door vibrates. The ladle shakes against the metal handle.

I realize what he’s doing.

“Oh, shit.”

I sit upright and wait with bated breath.

It takes thirty seconds. The sauna fills with cool air. The doorway, though, fills with Holt Mason.

He. Took. The. Door. Off. The. Hinges.

Shit.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Coming after you.”

“You most certainly will come after me,” I say with a raised brow. “Because I’m this close to getting there myself.”

He lunges forward and scoops me up. My legs are over one arm, and my back is supported by the other. He carries me into the bedroom and tosses me onto the bed.

“Holt,” I squeal. “I’m sweaty. Don’t put me on your bed.”

He pins me in place with his gaze as he strips out of his clothes. “I’m not worried about the fucking bed.”

Before I know what’s happening, he’s crawling over the bed and hovering on top of me.

My breathing is shallow. I can feel the blotchiness in my skin and the stickiness of my perspiration. But, more so, I can feel Holt’s energy rippling off him.

I’m so fucked.

I hope.

Twenty

Blaire

“You are a damn conundrum. Do you know that?” he asks from above me.

“I don’t know. I think I’m pretty easy to figure out.”

He tilts his head to the side. “I’ve tried to give you space. I’ve gone out of my fucking way to make sure you don’t think I asked you here so that I can have sex with you.”

“I noticed.”

He almost grins. Almost. “And then I catch you in my sauna thinking you’re going to touch yourself with me right here.”

I lift my head off the blankets. “Because you won’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I most definitely will.”

My head hits the blanket as he shows me the tie he had on earlier clenched in one of his large fists.

“Give me your hands,” he demands.

“What for?”

He sits beside me. Women would pay big money to watch his muscles flex like this.

He takes my hands and jerks them above my head. The silk slips across my wrists. In a moment, they’re pulled together and bound.

My blood pressure spikes as my heart pounds inside my body. I’m not sure if I like this or if I don’t.

But I am sure of one thing: I trust him.

The realization takes me out of the moment as I process it.

Only one person has ever tried to do something like this to me, and I laughed in his face. But with Holt, it’s hot. It’s safe. And as he springs off the bed and rustles around a drawer, I don’t have any reservations at all except I wish he’d hurry.

I squirm. “What are you doing now?”

“Finding a condom.”

“Good plan, good plan.”

He grins at me over his shoulder. “One of us has to think.”

“Hey, I’m thinking. I’ve been thinking. I thought out an entire plan.”

Kind of.

If he tries to keep me from hearing his chuckle, he fails.

He turns toward the bed and makes his way to me. He climbs on the mattress and stops between my legs.