He pulls a can of coffee out of his cupboard, angrily slams it down before he turns the tap on and angrily washes the coffee pot while flexing his jaw.
He’s pissy. Good. I’m pissy, too. Too bad pissy is hot on him.
“If I was gonna marry someone, maybe I’d marry a guy who’d at least for a minute consider leaving his life for me instead of expecting me to just walk away from it all,” I fire at him, then woodenly walk up the stairs to his room so I can shower. I slam his bathroom door for good measure.
And then I lean against it.
I feel numb. And sad.
The door opens and I nearly fall, but he catches me and spins me to face him.
He moves us backward, eyes intensely on me as he pins me against the wall, caging me in with arms on either side of my face. He gets so close I can count his eyelashes. And I can plainly see how tired he is, too. I stare up at him, not even trying to hide my pain for a change.
His voice comes out hoarse. “I don’t want it undone because of what I feel when I’m with you. Because of how I feel inside you. Because of how I know how good it’s gonna be as time goes on and I fall deeply in love with everything about you.”
I shake my head. I do that without words because I can’t find any.
“If you stop fighting me for five minutes, Amie, maybe you’ll feel something too. Something besides fear.”
Fear?
“Fear,” he repeats plainly, looking at me like he can see everything inside me.
Well… that’s … unnerving. And annoying. And… scary.
“I look in your eyes and see my future. What do you see in mine, baby?”
I look away.
He sighs.
“When you’re ready to look, I’m guessin’ you’ll see exactly what you want.”
I huff.
“You don’t have to fight it, Amelia. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m yours.”
He tips my chin to make me look at him.
“Fighting isn’t gonna make me give up,” he goes on, “and full transparency: it’s kinda fun. Because I know you don’t mean it when you try to fight me off. And no, I won’t lose interest when the chase is over either.”
Fucking mind reader.
He herds me to just outside the shower and keeps hold of my hand while he turns the dial. Steam fills the room. The scent from his body, the heat from his gaze, and now the fiery touch as he leans in and begins to undress me, there’s a fireball glowing and growing in my chest.
“Kick off your shoes,” he whispers.
Is he going to get sexy-bossy and talk dirty again? Like yesterday morning? Because that was …
“Now, baby.” His voice has gone rougher, making my belly swoop.
I kick my shoes off.
Heat sparks between my legs when he reaches for my waistband and divests me of my pants and undies. My eyes are glued to his muscular shoulders. I’m fascinated with watching them bulge as he continues removing my clothes. I’m used to muscles on guys, but something about Mason’s makes my mouth water. He doesn’t look like he swallowed a bunch of lead balloons like Whatshisface.
When I’m naked, Mason lifts me by my hips. My legs wind around his lower back as I grab his shoulders. I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I’ve chewed the inside of my cheek almost raw.
His gaze is fiery, on me, and I note as he flexes his jaw muscles that it’s sexily stubbled. Before I can calculate the move, I reach out and my palm glides straight up his jaw until my fingers weave into his soft hair. His eyes are molten black lava as he tilts his head to kiss the inside of my wrist while reaching under me to guide his cock through the wetness that’s all me, not remotely due to the water raining down on us. When my spine touches warm tiles, he begins to sink inside, slowly, intentionally. Deliciously.
As I draw in oxygen, his lips touch mine and immediately, his tongue dips in.
As I exhale, I also melt. And close my eyes. Which is a relief because I was so tempted to look as deep as I could into those dark pools. To see what he wants to show me.
He pulls his hips back and then slams forward.
“You’re mine,” Mason tells me. “And very soon, Amelia, you’re gonna admit it to me. And to yourself.”
The fullness increases just as he says that and that’s when the torturously delicious vibrations start. And it’s hitting hard and fast – an orgasm that makes me feel like my vagina is sparking the way metal does as it’s dragged across asphalt. I whimper. Loud.
“Fuck, you smell delicious,” he says, nosing my throat as I continue crying out.