Текст книги "Sweet Obsession "

Автор книги: J. Daniels

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“Strange that he still hasn’t stopped over here.” Joey leans against the worktop. “Are we sure he’s alive?”

Oh, I’m sure. His car is parked in a different spot than it was yesterday. That means he went out last night, or at least some point before I made it in to work today.

Early night, my ass.

“Being too busy to call or stop over here yesterday is one thing, but standing me up for coffee and then not communicating with me all morning is bullshit. Especially when he’s always over here, and always texting me cute, funny little messages. Now I get nothing? No contact? What the hell?”

“What happened the last time you saw him? After your delivery that day, did he act weird?”

I pinch my lips together.

No. No, he didn’t act weird. I acted weird.

The room swirls around me as I begin to pace. Adrenaline surges through my body. “I told him I needed a minute. I couldn’t . . . think. It might have been a panic attack. I don’t know. I was freaking out, Joey. You know that, I told you. But I said a minute. Not two fucking days.”

I shake my hands out at my sides. My feet carry me from one side of the kitchen to the other, and back again.

Where are you?

“Maybe a minute in Australia is longer?”

I stop near the fridge, glaring at Joey. “Really?”

He gives me an even look. “What? It’s possible. Have you called him?”

When I don’t answer, he shakes his head, muttering, “Of course you haven’t. Because that would be the logical thing to do, right? Contact him and figure out what’s going on.”

Figure out what’s going on. Contact him.

Call him? No. I’ll do one better.

If he’s changed his mind, he can tell me to my fucking face.

With determination fueling my steps, I grab some cash out of my wallet and dart out of the kitchen. “I’m taking my lunch!” I yell out, pushing through the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Joey calls out something behind me, something motivating.

My spine straightens.

Yes. Feminine power. Why didn’t I do this earlier?

I sprint across the street, grateful for my choice of flat, comfortable footwear, and pull on the studio door handle.

Locked.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

I knock several times on the glass. I pound on it. Maybe he’s upstairs hanging out between classes. Hiding out from me.

Pulling away. Needing his own minute.

Growling when he doesn’t materialize in front of me with a believable explanation for his sudden absence from my life, I tug my phone from my pocket and dial his number.

It doesn’t ring. His voicemail picks up.

“Oh, really? Is that how we’re going to play this?”

Anger sizzles in my blood. I’m furious. With myself, for not contacting him yesterday. With him. More myself though, and that only dials up my rage. I asked for this, and now I’m reacting because he’s only giving me what I thought I wanted.

He couldn’t fight me a little? Show some defiance?

Damn him for being so understanding.

Stowing my phone away after deciding against leaving a message, I head down the sidewalk toward the restaurants, my feet commanding on the pavement.

Not that I need to eat. I’ve inhaled half of my weight in cupcakes already and it’s only one o’clock. My mouth still tastes like raspberry mousse.

I blame men for any weight I might gain today. All men. The entire race.

Especially ones with sexy accents and stunning physiques.

The warm sun presses into my skin as I walk around the corner. I push up the sleeves of my silk blouse above my elbows and pop another button.

I decide on Grinders for lunch, a little sandwich shop Joey turned me on to years ago. It’s the closest in proximity to the bakery, which will allow me to return back to my perch and watch out for Mason so I can have it out with him sooner rather than later.

Stepping under the green awning, I move through the busy outside seating area and head for the door, stepping aside for customers carrying trays. I follow behind a group of business men in suits. When I’m nearly inside the cafe, a laugh turns my head in the direction of the tables and chairs in front of the other half of the building.

A familiar laugh.

I stop, causing someone to bump into my back.

“Sorry,” I mutter, stepping aside and searching the crowd. It only takes me another second to focus on Mason as he laughs again, his head falling back with his obvious enjoyment.

My stomach flutters.

I move closer, through the line of people filing at the door. My eyes lock on the person he’s laughing with, sharing a table with, a meal with.

A date with?

A woman. A young woman, with red hair and striking beauty, laughs with a napkin to her mouth. Her attention wrapped up in Mason. Her eyes trained on his. The two of them are sitting alone at a table in the corner by the wrought iron fence that wraps around the cafe. An intimate spot, maybe?

It sure as fuck looks like it.

My jaw aches as I grind my teeth. My nostrils flare. I cross the pavement with heavy steps and stop next to their table.

Their table.

Mason looks up at me, surprise manifesting in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak.

I don’t let him.

“Who the hell is this?” I point my finger in the general direction of the redhead. I can’t look away. My eyes stay glued to his. “Are you sleeping with her?”

The woman gasps, then goes completely silent.

Mason winces. “What?”

“What?” I echo, leaning down, keeping my finger extended in the air. My hand shakes. “I said, are you sleeping with her? Is that what you’ve been doing the past two days? Fucking someone who isn’t me? Fucking anyone?”

My voice cracks and my eyes sting. I lean away as Mason stands from the table.

“Come here.” He reaches for my arm. His voice is hard, angry.

Like he has a right.

I step back. “No! You tell me right now where you’ve been! Where have you been, Mason? With her? Where!”

Tears spill down my cheeks in heavy drops. My lip trembles.

It’s strange how quickly your mind can conjure up the worst possible scenario. Self-harm at its finest. Mason and this woman, images of them together, intimate, laughing. It’s all I can imagine when I look at him right now.

In a movement too fast for me to avoid, he grabs my arm above my elbow with one hand while his other seals to my waist. “You’re making a scene. There are children around,” he whispers harshly against my hair, moving me across the pavement.

I hear the soft click of the iron gate opening.

Turning my head, I look back at the sea of eyes on me as Mason pulls me away from the seating area. Away from her.

“Like I give a fuck. Who is she?” I growl, trying to get away, pushing against his chest and, at the same time, wanting to bury my face there and cry this out. “Where have you been? What the fuck is this?”

He presses my back against the heated brick covering the side of the building. I look around us, at the building behind Mason. I inhale the dank, musky air.

He’s pulled me into the alley. An alley, just like before, when he first kissed me.

Bending down, he flattens his hands on either side of my face and closes in on me. “What’s the problem, Brooke? Are you upset?”

I inhale a sharp breath. What the fuck?

“Am I upset? Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not. Do you think I’m with that woman? Do you care that I am?”

“What?” I whisper, fresh tears rimming my eyelids as I look up at him. “Are you?”

Bile rises in my throat.

He stares at me, not answering, his eyes distant and detached, but underneath them, dark smudges shadow his skin.

Instinctively, I go to reach for him, but flatten my hand against my side when I remember what he’s put me through. “Where have you been?” I ask, my cheeks burning. “You just disappeared on me.”

“You said you needed a minute.” His voice is cold. Impassive.

That bloody fucking minute.

I break, sending more tears down my face, my hands drawing into fists and pounding against his solid chest. “A minute, Mason. A minute! Not two days. Fuck you! You were my best friend and you just stopped talking to me. Why did you do that?”

He flinches, his eyes as round as quarters as they search my face. Grabbing my wrists, which go limp in response to his touch, he presses closer.

“What else was I to you? Was that it?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No,” I whisper, my body melting against the brick. I feel like I could collapse right now.

“What else?” He wipes a tear from my cheek. His breath bathes my face. “Fuck, Brooke. Tell me. What else was I?”

“Mine.”

The word shocks us both. Him more than me. I swear he stops breathing. I accepted this possessiveness over Mason two nights ago. This right to him. I know what I want. But saying it, hearing it out loud when I’ve never felt this way before, that’s what startles me.

Hearing my feelings at all is what startles him.

I drop my gaze to his dark cotton tee. “And I thought I was yours. I want to be.” I squeeze his hip, pushing off the wall. It’s my turn to press closer. Selfishly, my hands travel up his sides and around his back, dipping under his shirt.

Mine.

God, I missed his body. Two days feels like two years.

I stroke the hard curves of his muscles and the trail of his spine. I flatten my cheek to his chest. “Am I?” I quietly ask. “Am I yours?”

“Fuck,” he moans, crushing me against him, his long arms snaking around my body. Muscles tensing in relief and longing. With a sharp exhale, he nuzzles my hair. “You’re mine, sweet girl. So fucking mine. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

I close my eyes. Relief weighs down my frame, forming me to him. I’m so close but I want closer.

“You didn’t even call me.”

“I know. It’s not because I didn’t want to. Trust me. After that text the other day, I turned my phone off so I wouldn’t. I needed you to come to me, Brooke. I wanted you to admit what this was.”

“You were just going to wait?”

“Yeah. But only until Friday.” He leans back and cups my cheek. “I gave your stubbornness a deadline. I wouldn’t be able to wait any longer than that.”

Friday? Jesus, what would I have looked like by then?

I fist his shirt, going up on my toes, not giving him an option one way or the other as I whisper across his lips, “kiss me.”

I’m taking this.

With a growl, Mason seals our mouths together, our bodies. His length hardening against my stomach. He sucks on my tongue and kneads my ass, fingers digging at my flesh.

I gasp and arch further into him.

“Say it again,” he begs, kissing my jaw. “God, Brooke. Say it.”

I moan when he bites my neck. “That you’re my best friend?”

He leans away, and I giggle at his expression.

Fuck, he’s so adorable. Moody Mason.

I lunge at him again and wrap my arms around his neck, my feet dangling in the air.

He grumbles against my mouth.

“Oh. That you’re mine? And I’m yours? Is that what you want me to say?”

He nods. “Baby, please.”

“I am yours,” I whisper between soft kisses. “I have been. It just took me a minute.”

Laughing, he leans back and drops his forehead against mine. “Longest fucking minute of my life. You had me worried.”

“I had you worried?” I twitch in his arms until he lowers me. “Who the fuck is that redhead?” I ask, poking him in the chest.

His mouth falls open. “Ah, fuck. I forgot. Come on.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the alley.

“Erection,” I grate out behind him.

He turns his head. “What’s that?”

“You have an erection.” I tug on his hand.

“Shit.” He spins around just before we reach the fence and the herd of people. He winks at me as he discreetly adjusts himself. “Thanks, gorgeous. That could’ve been embarrassing, yeah?”

My heart melts at that one stupid word. I grab his face and kiss him hard.

“Mm,” he moans and squeezes my shoulders, gently easing me off. “Now you’re just making things worse.”

Smiling through a shrug, I take his hand again and allow him to willingly pull me this time through the crowded seating area outside the café. We stop at the table he was occupying before my outburst.

I look at the redhead, and the man now sitting next to her. His arm thrown behind her back. Her hand resting on his thigh.

Oh.

Nice, Brooke. Very nice.

Mason gestures at the couple. “These are some mates of mine from Alabama. Tessa, and her boyfriend, Luke. They came up to see my studio and do some sightseeing.” He looks down at me, smirking. “You remember me mentioning Tessa, right, sweetheart?”

“Mm.” I nod through tightly pinched lips.

Chuckling, Mason wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against his side. He looks at his friends. “And this is my Brooke.”

My heart thumps loudly in my chest, echoing in my bones.

His Brooke.

I release the slowest, calmest breath of my life as Tessa and Luke regard me familiarly.

For the first time since I’ve met Mason, I don’t feel unsure. The expectant worry that usually accompanies being this public with him is gone. Vanished. There’s no trace of it.

This is easy. God, it’s so easy standing here with him, being his, and it’s undeniably everything I want. I realize this is what it feels like to be someone’s only. To want to be that. And to hear someone declare their love for you just in the way they acquaint you with others.

A dizzying sensation moves through me like a coiling stream. I feel fuller and weightless all at once.

He loves me. Wow. That’s what this feels like.

Raising a limp hand, I smile apologetically at the two of them, more so at Tessa. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about earlier. I’m not usually like that.”

She tilts her head. “No? I’ve heard you’re a bit ballsy. It’s all good. I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Babe, you have,” Luke adds, laughing. “Who are you kidding?” He holds out his hand and shakes mine. “Sorry I missed the show. I was grabbing drinks.”

“Yeah, me too. Way to be absent. I’m probably banned from eating here now.”

We all share a laugh, and I notice Tessa smiling up at Mason.

“Can you stay?” he asks, sliding his hand to my back as I spin to face him.

I shake my head. “No. Dylan’s at a doctor’s appointment so it’s just me and Joey running the shop. I really need to grab some food and get back.”

He presses a kiss to my temple. “I’ll go inside with you.”

I say my goodbyes and another round of apologies to Luke and Tessa. Mason keeps his arms around me as we wait in line to place my order. I bury my face in his neck. We laugh about how we’ve become one of those couples, and we both agree we don’t really give a fuck.

He insists on paying for my food and walks me to the corner of the street where he grabs my face and presses hot, hungry kisses to my mouth and neck.

“I gotta go,” I plead, but my hand holds tight to his shirt, my lips still moving against his.

He kisses me once more and leans away. “Can you come by after you get off? I’m teaching this special class tonight I want you to see.”

“Special?” I flash him a devilish smile. “As in private?”

He laughs. “More private than usual, yes. Will you come?”

I giggle at his innuendo. He swats at my ass.

God, yes. I will be coming.

After waving goodbye to Joey after work and telling him to not wait up for me at all tonight, I cross the street and open the door to Mason’s studio.

I’m expecting my skin to prick with sweat the minute I step inside. My lungs to adjust to the sultry air. That’s the first difference I notice.

The temperature is comfortable. How it is when Mason isn’t teaching a class. A cool seventy degrees. The second thing I notice is the panel of spectators standing off to the side observing. Some of them snapping pictures.

Older people, mostly. Parents, by the looks of it. They look proud. I’m quickly reminded of my own mom and dad when I used to compete in cheerleading competitions.

I step further into the room and avert my attention to the actual group participating in the lesson. A profound awareness builds around me. Mason’s invitation takes on an entirely different meaning as I smile at the young adults posed on their mats, most of them probably close to my age. All of them sharing similar physical characteristics.

I suddenly feel like the biggest asshole for interpreting his request the way I did.

God, Brooke. Tact. Learn it.

I spot Mason toward the back of the room. He’s helping a young woman hold a pose where her body is forming an upside down V. Her hands and feet flat on the mat. She giggles and drops to her knees, then rolls to her hip. Her laughter is infectious, and soon others join in.

The woman beside me laughs quietly and whispers to the woman standing next to her.

“He’s so great, isn’t he? Look how much they’re all enjoying this!”

I slide closer along the wall, keeping my attention on Mason as he convinces the girl to try again. She shakes her head, grinning, but ultimately going for it and stretching into the pose.

“I know. I was so excited when Kendall wanted to give this a try. Trish said he’s offering this once a week, with a substantial discount. More than half-off. If they like it, I’m all for it, you know? It’s good for them.”

The woman beside me makes an appreciative humming noise. “The world needs more people like him.”

More people like him.

Mason.

With a sigh, my head hits the wall. I gaze across the room at the one person who has completely surprised me in every possible way. From his unconventional dating method, to his irresistible persistence, to his sweet soul he shares with the world.

My Mason.

I begin to take in quick, shallow breaths the longer I stand here. Something shifts, my lungs and other organs making room for my heart to expand and take over.

Who cares, right? Adore him now, stabilize my breathing later.

What? That’s crazy. I need to breathe. More than anything else, I need to keep breathing.

I close my eyes. Breathe, Brooke. I feel myself slipping, sliding under the water and sinking to the bottom.

This is madness. Beautiful, terrifying madness.

I can’t breathe.

I love him.

My eyes fly open. Mason smiles at me. My heart reacts without pause, battering against my sternum.

What.

The.

Fuck . . .

I love him. He made me fall in love with him. That’s exactly what happened. He didn’t give me a choice in this. I’ve never had any control in this situation. From the beginning, it’s been all him.

I bet this was his plan all along. Pull me in. Pull me under.

Well, now I’m fucking drowning, you gorgeous bastard.

In a panic, I move off from the wall and grab Mason’s attention again, waving goodbye and ignoring his puzzled look. Pushing through the door, I dart down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of my car.

I run, and run and run and run.

To the nearest liquor store.

If I’m sinking with this guy, I’m going down my way.

MASON

“Next week, then. Have a good night.”

I wave to everyone, parents and attendees as they leave the studio after class. Trish gives me a gracious look on her way out, silently thanking me for the third time tonight for orchestrating this.

She doesn’t need to thank me. I’ve wanted to get something like this started for years, and without her help spreading the word I’m not sure when or if it would’ve happened. I’m the one who’s grateful. Elated, actually. I’m running on a mysterious energy. The best kind of high. What a difference from yesterday and the day before when I tortured myself by avoiding all contact with Brooke.

Now, I don’t need to avoid her. I just need to find her.

Where the hell did she run off to?

I take the stairs two at a time and burst through the door, stepping out into my loft. After turning on the nearby lamp, I swipe my phone off the table and dial her number. It rings until her voicemail clicks over. My eyes pinch shut.

For fuck’s sake, Brooke.

Worry pricks at my encouraging mood. Is she having a minor freak out? Over-thinking things again? And so soon . . . I was at least hoping for a few days of bliss with her before I had to talk her off another ledge.

I shoot her a quick text, asking if everything is all right, then strip off my shirt and toss it onto a chair.

I step into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. I run my wet hands through my hair and along the back of my neck. My reflection stares back at me, one I recognize from the past two days. Laden with uncertainty and tension.

Fucking hell. She ran out of here. She ran away from me.

As I debate on taking an actual shower to keep myself here and not pacing the streets, a habit I’ve acquired as of recently, a knock sounds on the front door, startling me. I move swiftly through the room and tug on the handle.

Brooke pushes past me the second the door swings open. I inhale a lung full of soft vanilla.

She’s here. That’s a good sign. I begin to breathe a bit easier, my anxious mind starting to settle.

“Hey. You had me worried. I thought maybe you were changing your mind.” I close the door and watch her move into the kitchen.

She sets a bottle on the table. Tall, amber in color. Tequila.

Our eyes lock.

All right. Instead of pulling away, I’m now driving her to drink? Not sure this classifies as progress or not.

“Everything all right, Brooke?”

A small laugh bubbles on her lips. She unscrews the bottle, bringing it to her mouth for a taste. “I am so mad at you right now.”

I watch her take a sip, then another. “Why?”

“Why?” she echoes, pointing at me with the bottle in her hand. Her eyes narrow. “You know exactly why.” Taking another sip, she moves around the room with the bottle, gesturing with her free hand. “How long have you been planning this for, Mason? Since that first day, in front of your studio? Or maybe in the alley when I made you lay it all out there for me? Was this always your motive?”

She takes another sip of tequila as she paces in front of the window.

I rub my jaw, moving closer to the bed. I have no idea what she’s referring to. “Brooke, what exactly . . .”

“I mean, you knew!” she yells, not in anger though. Disbelief maybe? Her voice breaks with a short burst of laughter. “You knew from that first day what I wanted out of this. From that first day. It wasn’t a secret. Then you go and convince me to try things your way, with false intentions, I might add.”

She lifts her head, stopping, staring at me from across the room. Her shoulders relaxing with the breath she expels.

“I only wanted to have sex with you. That’s it. But the more time we spent together, the less I thought about what I wanted. And you, your entire argument was you wanted us to know each other before that happened. To really know each other, right? But you knew me when we went camping. You knew me then, Mason, didn’t you?”

I think about how close I felt to Brooke that weekend, including during her unfortunate tick encounter and the mess that followed. Our talk in the tent before we crashed that first night, and our adventure together the next day.

She’s right. I knew her. Well enough to take things where we both wanted.

“Yeah,” I reply, nodding.

There’s no point in lying about this.

“And you didn’t give in. You didn’t take me that weekend.”

She doesn’t allow me to respond. I don’t really need to anyway. We were both there.

“That’s not all you were waiting for,” she concludes with a keen arch of her brow.

“No.”

“This was never just about us knowing each other.”

“No.”

Shaking her head through a tight laugh, she takes one last swig of the tequila before setting it on the window ledge. “Who else?” she asks quietly, facing away from me.

I know what she means. I don’t need to ask for clarification on this.

When all of this started with Brooke, I told her I didn’t do a meaningless fuck anymore, but I never told her I didn’t plead for this with anyone else. Or that I never wanted it this bad with someone before.

“No one,” I confess.

I see the quick jerk of her head. I hear her mutter something that sounds an awful lot like “good.” Her voice sounding slightly pacified.

Spinning around, with a steadiness in her eyes, she holds her hands out in front of her. “Well, you did it. Congratulations.”

My eyebrows draw together. I search her face for understanding.

She sighs, staring me down. “I love you, you fucking perfect bastard. You got what you wanted. I’m completely and absolutely in love with you and your little ‘yeahs.’ They kill me. And for the record, I’m pretty sure I loved you that night in the tent so,” she waves her hand. “Opportunity missed. You totally could’ve fucked a cheerleader.”

I feel my lips part, a rush of fervency pitting in the center of my chest and blooming there.

She loves me. My Brooke . . . fuck. Finally.

With a quick exhale, she runs her hands down her face, pressing her palms flat to her cheeks. “Holy shit. Wow. That’s what it feels like to say it.” She blinks, her teeth gnawing at her lip. “Wow,” she whispers.

I cross the room in quick strides, grabbing her face and kissing her harshly. She moans and melts in my arms. The bitter scratch of tequila bursts in my mouth.

“You make me feel crazy,” I tell her.

“Good. You fucking deserve it. I only wanted sex, and now I’m completely screwed. I have no idea what to do with this, you jerk.”

I laugh, taking her mouth again. My tongue moving against hers. My hands roaming down her back and cupping her arse.

“Should I have told you my intentions? Would you have agreed to this if I did?”

“I don’t know.”

We stare at each other. Brooke frowns, her hand flattening to my chest.

“I love how this happened, Mason. How you got me here. I wouldn’t want to change any of that. You made falling in love with you so easy, I didn’t realize I was doing it until it was too late. I think if you would’ve given me a heads up about it happening I might’ve told you to fuck off, and I don’t want to imagine not knowing you. You’re my best friend.” She stands on her toes and kisses me. “And I’m yours, I think.”

Sighing, I crush her against me. “You’re mine. Fuck, you’re everything, Brooke. Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She squeezes my neck, sucking on my lip. “I love you, and I’m not scared. I’m not. Just don’t let go of me, okay?”

“Never.” I bend down and kiss her neck. Her hands curl around my waist. “Touch me.”

“Where?”

“You know where.”

She laughs softly. “Mm. Okay, um, can you . . .” With shaky hands, she tugs at my shorts. Her breath bursts against my hair. “Pull it out?”

I turn us, backing her up until her legs hit the bed, my mouth still savoring her skin.

She sits on the edge and peels off her shirt, keeping her eyes lowered and focused on my hands as I jerk down my shorts and boxers, kicking them off along with my runners and pulling off my socks. I grip the base of my thick length, stroking it a little, watching the lust bloom in her eyes and her pink tongue dart out to wet her lips.

I stare at her full tits, pressed high together in a black lace bra. Her nipples hard against the sheer, see-through material.

“Do you want to see them?” she asks, unhooking the clasp around her back. “I think you do.” She slides the straps down her arms and drops the lingerie onto the floor near my feet.

“Fuck.” I step forward, reaching for her hand. “Touch me.”

She wraps around my cock and tests her grip, giving slow, gentle tugs, her usual urgency for my body vanished. She looks timid.

I moan. My legs feel ready to give out. Just her hand and I’m struggling not to break.

“Mason,” she whispers, lifting her gaze as she swipes her thumb across the head. “How bad have you wanted this? Show me.” She leans forward and licks a drop of precum off my dick, watching me.

Owning me.

Jesus fucking Christ.

How bad have I wanted this? She’s about to find out.

“Baby. Come here.” I grab her legs and hoist her up the bed until she’s stretched out on her back. Topless. Her tits bouncing lusciously with the jerky movement. Her dark hair fanning against my sheets just like I’ve imagined countless times.

Beautiful.

I pull off her shoes and socks, kissing the tops of her feet. I tug off her jeans and panties. I look down at her, my girl, naked, stretched out on my bed. Giving me this.

Giving.

Me.

This.

Fuck me. Moving here was the best damn decision of my life.

With my hands spread on her inner thighs, I push her legs open and lay my body between them, my cock rubbing against the mattress. I finger her slit.

“I want you so fucking bad. This. I want to taste this before I fuck it.”

“Oh, God,” she moans as I slip a digit inside, my lips toying with her clit. I suck it into my mouth and she shudders.

“I’ve dreamed of you in this bed, just like this, moaning for me while I lick you here.” I palm her arse and move my face between her legs, roughly consuming her. Getting her in my throat the way I like.

She arches off the bed, fingers clawing at the sheet and tugging my hair, mumbling incoherent words between obscenities.

I suck on her lips, dragging my tongue between them. Up and down, slowly savoring her.

“So wet. You’re dripping down my chin, Brooke. Do you like that?”

“Shit.” She digs her heels into my back. With heavy-lidded eyes, she watches me rub my nose against her clit and fuck her with my tongue. “Mason, please.”

“I want you,” I tell her.

She swallows, nodding. “Yes.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Anyone.” I slip three fingers inside her, pumping them in and out.

Fast. Faster.

She writhes against the sheet and grinds on my palm, moaning and softly begging.

“Please, yes, yes. Oh, fuck. Oh, God, fuck.”

“I ache for you. My body. My soul,” I whisper against her clit, licking it gently. “I lie here every night thinking about you. Getting off to this. Your body. This sweet little cunt. Fuck, Brooke. You have no idea how badly I want this. I can’t put it into words.”

She strokes my cheek, gasping. “Show me. Make me,” her eyes roll shut. “Come. Make me come.”

“Like this?” I ask, not waiting for an answer as I move my fingers in and out of her, sucking on her smooth pebble of nerves with earnest until my cheeks hollow and she cries out above me, whimpering a mix of my name and more and fuck, over and over and over.

When her climax subsides and her limbs shiver in aftermath, she wraps her legs around my back, drawing me closer and higher up her body, her hands gripping my shoulders, my back.

I kiss her soft stomach and the curve of her ribs. I lick her nipple, pulling it into my mouth as she watches me with those pouty lips parted.

“Ready?” I ask her, pushing off the bed and digging in my night table drawer for a condom.

Brooke sits up. “Wait. Wait, I,” she stammers, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Her eyes dancing between the drawer and my face. “Um. I’ve never . . .”