Текст книги "Sweet Obsession "

Автор книги: J. Daniels

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

I shake my head. “You’re delusional if you think I was affected in any way by a kiss on the cheek.”

“Or an accent.”

I nod. “Right.”

“Or the body of a Greek God. No way would you have reacted to a combination of the three.”

I glare up at him. “Why are you here again?”

He smiles.

Excited chatter fills the air around us as we step up onto the sidewalk. The line forms just outside the door and continues in front of the large studio window, completely obstructing my view of the inside.

“Excuse me?” A woman at the front of the line points behind her. “The line begins back there, around the corner.”

“That’s nice,” I reply, pairing my sarcasm with my fakest smile. I look up at Joey. “I’m good right here. You?”

He stretches his arms above his head. “Fantastic.”

The woman scowls, then turns to her friend. Behind her, the door opens and Mason steps outside.

Hushed “oh, my God’s” and “that’s him” are spoken. People further down the line step out to get a better view of the man captivating everyone’s attention.

God, he’s practically edible.

Dressed in loose shorts that hang low on his hips and a sleeveless tee, Mason surveys the crowd with wide, stunned eyes.

Did he really not think he’d have much of a turn-out? Does the man not own a mirror?

He steps further out onto the sidewalk. A hand flies through his blonde hair. “Evening, ladies. This is quite a shock.”

Joey obnoxiously clears his throat.

Mason acknowledges him with a quick, apologetic nod, then our eyes meet. The air leaves my lungs. He looks like he wants to say something, possibly walk over to me, please, God, walk over to me, but he shows restrain and instead, levels me a stare that has me contemplating public sex.

I gather a shaky breath. Joey chuckles next to me.

“Shut up,” I whisper.

Mason turns back to the crowd. “Right. Unfortunately, due to building capacity, I won’t be able to squeeze all of you in tonight. But, I’m a man of my word. You will all get your free lesson. Check out the class times on the door, yeah? First twenty-five in line get to attend tonight. I hope to see the rest of you at another class.” He motions for me and Joey to come forward.

“Hey, they aren’t even in line,” someone calls out from the crowd.

“They signed up yesterday,” Mason explains, keeping his eyes on me as I move closer. He holds his hand out to Joey. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t see ya standing over there. Good on you for coming.”

Joey shakes his hand. “I usually don’t go unnoticed. You’re clearly straight.”

Mason smiles, shifting his eyes to mine as he drops his hand. “Hello, gorgeous. How are you?”

“Ready to collect.” I grab Joey’s arm and lead him inside, looking back at Mason over my shoulder.

He pulls his gaze off my ass when two women walk over to him.

I claim a mat in the center of the room and toe off my shoes and socks.

Joey does the same next to me. “Christ, it’s hot in here. I’m about to take off my shirt.”

Mason steps into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Me too,” I murmur.

That should help get things moving in the right direction.

After adjusting the thermostat on the wall, Mason moves to the front of the class. The room goes silent.

“Right. Everyone ready to get started?” he pauses, smiling at everyone’s enthusiasm. “The most important thing to remember in my class is I want you to take your time. Understand that you have the rest of your life to make this perfect, yeah? Yoga is a great way to improve flexibility and strength, but also, it benefits the mind and the spirit. I want you to concentrate on your breathing. Breathe through every pose. You might not get everything today, and that’s all right. I’m here to help you. If you need to step away and get a quick drink, or if you’re feeling like you need a break, take it. It’s going to get very warm in here . . .”

“It already is,” Joey announces, fanning his face. “Any objections if I start stripping?”

A few women giggle. Others make similar comments about the temperature in the room.

“By all means.” Mason reaches behind him, grabs his shirt, and pulls it off with one hand. He tosses it aside. “I hope nobody minds. I normally don’t wear a lot of clothes when I do this.”

“Oh, dear God,” someone behind me murmurs.

I stare at the hard lines of Mason’s body. The thick cuts of muscle in his arms. His broad, lightly-tanned chest.

He wants me to concentrate on breathing while he looks like this? What is he fucking crazy?

The man has an eight pack. Eight. Pack.

He looks directly at me. “Ready?” he asks, tilting his head with a coy grin.

I nod, a lot. Joey elbows me and I finally get myself under control.

Mason leads the class through a few basic breathing exercises. Thank God. I can’t seem to remember how to properly work my lungs anymore. With the slowly rising temperature in the room, Mason’s glorious body, and the knowledge of my impending orgasm minutes away, it’s a wonder I’m not getting rushed to the hospital by ambulance for lack of oxygen to the brain.

“Now, release the hands and come out onto all fours,” Mason instructs.

“Hello,” Joey whispers. “All fours, yes please. I should’ve dragged Billy to this.”

I lift my head and watch Mason.

“Hands underneath the shoulders. Knees underneath the hips. Inhale, drop the belly, and look upwards.”

Our eyes lock.

“Exhale, push the floor away, and look down at your navel.”

My spine arches. I close my eyes and hold the position.

Mm. This actually feels really good.

“Inhale, look up.”

He smiles. My hand nearly slips out from under me.

“Shit.” I wipe my hand on my pants leg, removing the sweat that’s built up on my palm.

“Stop distracting him. I’m really into this.”

I narrow my eyes at Joey.

“Last time. Exhale, press away.”

I drop my head and slowly breathe out.

The next series of poses doesn’t allow for eye contact, so I’m able to get through those without any difficulty. Sweat beads up on the base on my neck and down my spine. My muscles are loose and warm.

I feel amazing. I’m actually really enjoying this.

Several women have to step outside to get some air while others gulp water from the cooler in the corner. I don’t need a break. I don’t want one either.

Mason instructs everyone to lie on their backs. He moves between the mats, his voice growing closer.

“From here, bend the knees, place the feet on the floor. I want you to lift your hips off the mat. Try and reach for your heels with your fingers.”

He looks down at me as I struggle to grab my heels. With a huff, my back hits the mat.

“Little help?” I smile up at him.

He drops down to his knees beside me. “You’re doing great. Have you done this before?” he asks, grabbing my hips, his fingers pressing into my back.

“Nope. First time. I’m very motivated to please my instructor.”

His mouth twitches in the corner.

“Ready?”

“Oh, hold on. Not yet.” I grab the hem of my shirt and strip it over my head, leaving me in only my hot pink sports bra.

His lips part with a rushed exhale. He looks beautiful, eyes wide and wild.

“There. That’s better. I was burning up in that.”

I watch his neck roll with a swallow, the heavy bob of his Adam’s apple I want to run my tongue over and taste. His hands shake as they move over my skin to resume their grip.

“Devil,” he whispers, leaning down and lifting my hips. “Stay after class.”

Yes.

His hands leave me. I hold the pose as he moves around the room, meeting my gaze every few steps.

Twenty minutes later, I’m practically bouncing on my feet as the class dismisses. I wave to Joey as he slips out the door, then take a moment to fix my disheveled pony.

I shouldn’t bother. It’s about to get a whole lot messier.

Holding my discarded tank, I wait for Mason on my mat as he walks a few stragglers to the door. He closes it and turns the top lock. Taking his shirt, he wipes it across his face, removing the sweat.

“Great class,” I tell him as he walks toward me.

An honest observation. I never thought I’d actually enjoy working out, let alone yoga.

His mouth stretches into a proud smile. “Yeah? I thought it was all right. I was a bit nervous.”

“Why? You made it easy. Nobody seemed to have trouble keeping up.”

“Except you.” He stops in front of me, looking between the shirt in my hand and my face. “Or, was that just a ploy to get me to touch you?”

I shrug. “I don’t think I need a ploy. I think you want to touch me.”

“I do.”

“And here I am. Touch away.”

His eyes, the color of autumn, do this shift from playful to something else, something darker.

Make me come.

My fist tightens on my tank.

All too soon his smoldering gaze is gone, swiftly darting across the room.

“I need to shower. Will you wait? My room is just upstairs. I’ll be quick.”

I stare at his profile, a bit confused.

Shower?

Once again, the ‘why bother’ question fills my head. We’re about to mount each other. I, for one, plan on utilizing every hard surface in this studio. It’s 90 degrees in here, and my entire body is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

Everybody has their routines during sex. Maybe Mason likes to start off freshly washed?

“Yeah, okay. Hurry though.”

He gives me a curt nod and takes to the stairs.

Mm. He lives here. Strangely, that thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Even though Dylan lives above her business, I hadn’t considered Mason having the same situation.

I pad about the studio for two, three minutes, maybe.

Curiosity gets the best of me. Or maybe I’m too horny to wait any longer.

I quietly slip upstairs.

I’ve always loved shower sex.

MASON

Warm water hits the back of my neck as I drop my head between my shoulders.

With a soapy hand, I stroke my dick. My free hand braces my weight on the wet tile.

Brooke. Brooke. Brooke.

What the fuck am I doing?

I could be feeling her tighten around me right now. Roaming my hands over her soft curves. Licking the sweat off her tits while I palm her arse and lower her onto my cock.

Instead, I’m jerking off to thoughts of her like a desperate juvenile.

Fuck, but if I don’t . . .

I’ve been fighting off an erection since I saw her on the footpath. That struggle intensified when I got a view of the back of her¸ and then she had to go and strip in the middle of my fucking class.

She has me and she knows it.

I pinch my eyes shut.

She is so incredibly beautiful.

Barely any makeup. The glow of her skin from exertion. Her hair, tousled and slick with sweat.

My hand works faster. I rock my hips.

God, I need to come.

I want to talk to Brooke. I want to know her, and I’d really love to do that without my dick being hard and without the overwhelming desire to bury myself balls deep mudding up my thoughts.

When was the last time I couldn’t get through a single conversation with a woman without imagining what she would look like wet and begging beneath me?

I’m not that guy. I sure as hell don’t want to be that guy for Brooke. And I won’t be . . .

I just need to get this ache out of my body.

My thighs tense beneath me. I take a moment to rub my thumb over the head of my dick, mingling the water and precum. I let myself moan. The quick slapping of skin echoes off the walls of my small bathroom.

I remember what she felt like as I held the slender curve of her hips. She was smooth and warm. Sweat pooled in the dip between her collarbones.

“Holy fuck,” I gasp, my hand working furiously now.

If only she knew what I was doing. What I was thinking. How close I was to . . .

“Mm. Need a hand with that?”

My eyes flash open at the sound of a voice at my back. Equal parts wicked and sweet. Stilling my hand, I squeeze the base of my dick and look over my shoulder.

Brooke peers inside the small opening in the shower curtain, smiling, her gaze lingering on my arse.

“Shit.” I wrench the handle and cut off the water. Fuck . . . fuck! I probably look like such a fucking wanker. Covering myself as best as I can, I turn to look at her. “Brooke, I . . .”

She slides the shower curtain back.

Good fucking Christ.

My mouth falls open. My breathing quickens. Brooke, now completely naked, stands before me, proudly showing off her insanely sexy body as she leans against the wall. Calculating smirk twisting across those sexy as fuck lips.

I can’t pull my eyes away. I knew she would be a fucking sin to look at, but I had no idea . . .

Her full tits sit high on her chest. A faint blush spreading over them. Her nipples, a dusty pink, hardened and ready for my tongue. The soft flare of her hips. Long, shapely legs. Her bare . . .

My cock jumps against my hand.

She lifts her leg to step inside the small shower with me.

“Whoawhoawhoa.” I shove the curtain open further and reach for two towels. “Here. Fuck, please put this on. I’m . . .” I struggle to speak, to secure my own towel around my waist while holding one out for her. The cotton brushes against my cock and I moan.

I was so fucking close. Why didn’t I lock the door?

She laughs softly, lowering her foot. “Why the hell would I do that? And why are you covering up? Turn the water back on and fuck me.”

I step out of the shower. “I think maybe we should talk a little first.”

“Talk? Yeah, okay. Were you not just jerking off thinking about me?”

“No, I was. I was, I just . . .”

“Then what is there to talk about?”

I give up on wrapping the towel around my waist and hold it against my cock, offering her the other one. “Please, Brooke.”

I need her to cover up. I can’t hold a conversation with this woman with her tits out.

Speaking of tits . . .

She crosses her arms underneath them. They bounce a little and I bite back my moan.

“Do you want me or not?”

“I want you,” I answer quickly. God, isn’t it obvious? “Trust me, Brooke, I want you, but maybe we could take this a bit slower, yeah?”

“Slower? Why? I want to fuck you. You clearly want to fuck me, based on your massive erection, which bravo, by the way. He’s beautiful.” She takes the towel from me and drops it on the floor, inching closer. “You came up here to jerk off to thoughts of me. I know you didn’t finish. How close were you?”

“Close.” I step back. My hip hits the sharp edge of the sink.

The wolf circles her prey, ready to attack.

“It would be a shame to stop now, don’t you think? I hear blue balls are a bitch.”

I grab her wrist when she reaches for me. “Brooke.” My voice is much softer now. I sound weak. I feel weak. I’m so close to saying fuck it and bending her over the sink.

She stares up at me. Her thick lashes flutter closed before she steps back out of my grip. Anger flares to life in her eyes. “What is your problem? What the fuck is this?”

Damn it. She is pissed, clearly, but the way her gaze avoids mine and scatters about the room, she’s feeling something else too.

Rejection? Does she not see how difficult this is for me?

“If I were to fuck you right now, then what?” I ask, although, I fear I already know the answer to this. She’s moving way too fast to want anything real with me. “What would happen after, Brooke?”

“After?” Her eyes slowly find mine.

“Yeah, after. What would I be to you?”

She breathes a laugh, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “If you think it’ll be weird for me, you’re wrong. I can handle casual sex. I’ll even wave to you if I see you out. It won’t be awkward.” Her gaze lowers to my towel. “You’re still hard, by the way.”

“I’m aware.”

It’s bloody painful.

She leans back against the wall. Her calculating smirk returns. “Tell me you don’t want to fuck me right now.”

“I can’t do that,” I reply, briefly glancing down at my raging hard-on that’s tenting the towel. I lift my head. “Look, I want to fuck you, but I want to know you, Brooke. I can’t do a meaningless fuck. That’s not me. And I don’t want that with you. Why don’t we get dressed and go get something to eat. Talk a little. I want to know about you.”

She stares at me for several seconds. The silence between us grows deafening.

“You’re serious.”

“Very.” I straighten my spine. My chest suddenly feels tight. “Go out with me.”

Blinking several times, she turns away. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She snatches her clothes off the sink. “You’re actually shooting me down right now.”

“I’m not . . .”

“This is unbelievable,” she mumbles. She pulls on her pants, then slips her top over her head, leaving her bra and panties off.

I don’t try and stop her. If I am going to walk around the city with Brooke without an erection, she’s going to need to be clothed.

Of course, knowing she’s wearing nothing underneath those fucking pants could cause a bit of an issue. And her nipples . . . God, this might be torture.

Her hand turns the doorknob. “Thanks for the class. It was surprisingly fun.” She storms out into my living space, leaving me behind.

“Hold up a second. Let me get dressed.”

I head for my dresser, still pressing the towel against my cock. Brooke takes to the stairs without looking back at me.

“Brooke!”

She disappears to the first level.

“Fuck.” I don’t bother drying off. Grabbing a pair of boxers, I tug them on, then pull some shorts out of the drawer. Water drips down my face to my neck. I wipe it from my eyes.

She’s not waiting for me. She doesn’t want to go for a walk and let me find out about her. She feels rejected, which is entirely my fault. But with Brooke . . . even if I give in and fuck her for the sake of fucking her, I’ll feel like the biggest tosser on the planet. Sure, it’ll probably be one of the hottest romps of my life, maybe even the hottest, but then it’ll be over. She clearly won’t want anything else to do with me.

“I’ll even wave to you if I see you out.”

Wave to me? Fuck that. I want a lot more than a bloody wave from her.

My feet beat against the wood as I dash down the stairs, only to step out into an empty studio. I swing the door open and move outside, hoping to catch Brooke, but the footpath is quiet. A street lamp flickers in the distance as I dart my eyes left, then right. The bakery is dark across the narrow street that separates my business from hers.

I push a hand through my wet hair. Frustration burns the back of my throat.

I refused her.

I refused the knockout I can’t stop thinking about.

I drop my head back and stare up at the stars. My groin throbs.

Blue balls? Can’t be all that bad, can it?

Blue balls are, in fact, the worst fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Brooke might as well have taken a jackhammer to my nuts before she stormed out. I feel ready to explode. My legs barely get me up the stairs before I’m whipping my dick out and squeezing it roughly.

The pain is indescribable. The urge to fuck burns like a wild-fire in my veins.

Even as I move my hand over my dick in the silence of my loft, frantically chasing my orgasm, I’m getting no relief. Everything is so sensitive. I squeeze harder, stroke faster. It hurts to do this. It hurts not to. I want to scream.

I need to come. Goddamn, I need to come.

I’m sure I could wait this out. It can’t stay like this, can it?

That unnerving fear has me reaching down and cupping my balls with my free hand. I roll them between my palm. My thoughts race to Brooke standing outside my shower, leaning against the wall, pressed against the wall. Her tits, her arse, her smooth pussy I want to nuzzle with my mouth.

My breath hitches. Fuck! Finally!

With a strangled groan, I come all over my hand and stomach. The ache between my thighs dissipates.

A familiar satisfaction settles over me, but will it last? Will I ever be truly satisfied until I have Brooke in the ways I want to have her? Which includes every filthy act of depravity I can think of.

I sag against the mattress as I reach for my discarded towel from earlier and wipe myself clean.

My eyes close. I listen to the beginnings of a storm in the distance. The low rumble of thunder.

I hope she isn’t walking home.

Sleep evades me most of the night as my mind refuses to settle. My body is spent from class, from my orgasm, but I’m restless. My cock slowly grows hard against the sheets. I ignore it and roll over, rubbing it into the mattress.

The morning sun rises too early. Light burns across my eyelids, and I make a mental note to pick up curtains or some shit to keep my room dark when I need it. I hope to God this isn’t any indication how every sexual encounter involving Brooke, fantasy or not, leaves me.

I’m not going to be able to teach six classes a day if I’m up half the night.

Coffee. I need a fuckton of coffee.

I get dressed and head outside, pulling on my sunnies. The footpath is wet from last night’s rain, and the air is a bit sticky. I avoid the puddles as I head south on Fayette, my eyes glancing back in the direction of the bakery until I can no longer see it clearly. A little shop on the corner across the street grabs my attention, and I jog between cars and step up onto the curb.

I pull the door open and step inside, inhaling a lungful of the delicious scent.

My glasses get pushed back on top of my head. I freeze. A body I’d have to be dead not to recognize stands a few feet ahead of me, leaning against the small counter as she waits for her order.

Her perky arse sways as she moves her hips to the beat of the song playing softly overhead.

I move closer, smiling. “Brooke.”

Her head whips around, then the rest of her turns to face me.

My eyes rake over her tiny form.

She’s in jeans again, tight on her hips and legs. Her red shirt dips low in the front to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. And on her feet, runners, an old pair of Nike’s.

Her hair is up, pulled back into a dark, messy knot, with a few pieces framing her face.

She raises an eyebrow. She looks agitated. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

I almost laugh at her suggestion, but decide against it when she shows no sign of her question being a joke.

“What? No, I like coffee. I’m here for coffee. This was purely a coincidence.” I take a step toward her. “You left last night. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk,” she laughs. “There’s that word again. Did you have fun talking after I left?”

My brow furrows. “Uh . . . to who?”

She eliminates the space between us. Her hand flattens against my chest as she stands on her toes to get as close to my ear as possible. I inhale her perfume. Some sort of berry scent. It’s light and sweet.

“Did you finish getting off after I was gone?” she whispers.

My hands form to her hips. I drop my head, brushing my lips against her hair. “Yeah. I had to.”

“Mm. So did I. You were amazing in my head. I came all over my fingers.”

“Fuck,” I groan. Not meaning to, my fingers squeeze her hips, hard enough to possibly bruise her. I move my hands to her back.

God, she feels good against me.

“Me too. I . . .” My words trail off.

Am I really doing this? Am I about to confess to this woman how hard I came last night in the middle of a fucking coffee shop?”

She leans back to look up at me. “It’s a shame we couldn’t have handled that shit together. A damn shame.” She slaps her hand against my chest and spins back around, leaving me reeling.

I grab her elbow. I’m not done with this conversation. “Hey.”

“What?” Her voice sounds distant. She barely turns her head to acknowledge me.

The bloke behind the counter carries over four coffees before I can get her attention again.

“Here you go, Brooke. Sorry about the wait.”

She steps forward. I move quickly to grab the carrier, being sure not to completely shove her out of the way in the process. Only the side of my arm bumps against hers.

“I got these. Did you pay?” I ask, reaching blindly with my other hand for my wallet.

“What?” Eyebrows pinched together in confusion, she tries to grab the carrier. Her height difference from mine doesn’t allow for it. She really is tiny without those heels.

With an exasperated huff, she jumps with her hand in the air. “Yes, I paid. And can you give me that please, you big tree?”

“I said I got it. Come on.”

“Come on? I thought you were getting coffee.”

I shrug, looking down at her. “I’ll come back.”

Her hand slaps against her thigh. With a shake of her head, she moves toward the door. “Fine. But there’s a crack in the sidewalk and I’m not going to tell you where it is. If you fall, that’s on you.”

I stifle my laugh, following behind. “Fair enough.”

We walk side by side on the busy footpath. People move in a blur around us. Brooke keeps her arms tightly crossed against her chest and her gaze locked ahead of her. Mine wanders between the path ahead and her profile.

“How tall are you?” I ask, breaking up the silence after only standing it for a whole ten seconds.

She looks over at me. “I don’t know. 5’2”, I think. Why?”

“Just curious. You threw me off with your shoes the other day, when we first met.”

“Mm.” She turns her head.

My mouth curls up in the corner. “You were right about blue balls. Bloody awful, that was. I thought I was dying.”

A small laugh erupts from her. She quickly conceals it with a cough. “Well, that was all your doing.”

“Actually, it’s yours. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Thinking about me,” she repeats, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “But, you don’t want to do anything with me. You turned me down.”

“I want to do a lot with you.”

I wait until she glances in my direction before I continue. Her eyes slowly reach mine.

“A lot, Brooke. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing things with you. I just want to know you first. Spend some time with you. Like this. I like talking to you.”

“Crack.”

“What’s that?”

She points ahead of us. “Crack. Right there. Watch out.”

I look down, careful to step over the jagged edge of the concrete that protrudes a good five centimeters from the flat plane.

Fuck. That would’ve been one hell of a fall.

“I thought you weren’t going to warn me,” I ask through a grin.

She shrugs. “I don’t feel like going back for more coffee. You would’ve spilled it.”

“Ah, okay. I thought maybe it was because you care about my well-being, or something. My mistake.”

She stops walking. I look back over my shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Are you married? Is that it?”

Confusion pulls my brows together. “Do you think I’m married?”

When have I given her the impression that I was married?

She hits me with a sturdy glare as she marches directly for me. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. You aren’t wearing a ring, but not all married guys wear their rings, especially ones who like to jerk off to the idea of other women. Is that you?”

I stare at her, long and hard. Is she fucking serious with this? I grab her hand and pull her in the small alleyway between two businesses.

“What are you doing?”

With a hand to her hip, I guide her back against the brick wall. Chest to chest, I look down at her, trying to contain my anger at this bullshit back and forth while I balance these stupid fucking coffees.

“Do you really think I’m married? Is that the kind of man you think I am? One who cheats on his wife?”

She tilts her head up. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. It wouldn’t be the first time some married guy tried something with me. Although, I doubt any of them would’ve rejected me the way you did. Was that your guilty conscience talking last night?”

What the fuck?

I bend down, inching closer. “I am not married. If I was, I never would’ve invited you to my class because I wouldn’t have been able to keep my eyes off you. Fuck, Brooke, the way we flirted that first day, that wouldn’t have happened. I told you I’m not interested in a quick fuck. I don’t do that anymore. I’m not some young kid fucking around. I want more than that.” My hand slides higher on her waist, fitting to her curves. “Give me more.”

She blinks heavily, then looks back up at me with round, doleful eyes. Her head shakes ever so slightly. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was last night? How awkward I felt? I was naked, Mason, and you rejected me.” A rush of air pushes past her lips, blowing against mine. “You rejected me.”

Fuck. I hurt her. I hadn’t meant to. I would never.

“Brooke.”

Her gaze lowers to a spot on my shirt.

The pain in her voice, paired with that wounded look she’s trying to hide from me tears through my reserve.

I tilt my head down. She lifts hers at my sudden movement, gasping as our mouths slide together, searing into a kiss. It’s hot and wet, almost painful as we both reveal our desperation. My body presses her to the brick. She parts her lips with a groan as her warm hands wrap around my neck, fingers twisting in my hair and tugging. My tongue moves into her mouth, tasting, gliding against hers. I palm her arse, wishing I had use of both hands right now so I could properly do this.

She sucks on my lip, then bites it, smiling when I bend further with a moan.

“You’re a good kisser,” she says against my mouth. “Really good. Must be the accent.”

I laugh, licking along the seam of her lips, swallowing her taste. Savoring it.

“I want you, Brooke. Do you see now?”

“Mm. I think.” She tugs the hair at the base of my neck when I try and lean away. “No, wait, don’t stop.”

I drop my forehead to hers. Her hand relaxes.

“Do you want more?” I whisper, staring at her mouth, her eyes, the cute little wrinkle in her nose.

She nods, biting at her bottom lip.

“Me too. I want more of that, of everything. Try it my way.”

“Try it my way. It involves nudity.” She attempts to wiggle closer.

I press against her hip, keeping her pinned to the wall.

“Mason,” she moans as I bend and kiss her cheek. My mouth moves to her ear.

“I could fuck you right now, up against this brick wall while anyone could walk by us. Would you like that? Would you come for me?”

She shudders. Her hands fit to my waist.

“Oh, God,” she whispers.

I kiss the skin below her ear before continuing. “It would be amazing, and I want that, I do, but my way, which involves feelings and knowing someone, trust me . . . it’s better. It’s so much better, Brooke. I want you to really feel me. I don’t just want a hard fuck in an alley and then nothing. I can’t do that.”

I slowly lean back. My hand falls away from her body as I watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Is her heart pounding as much as mine? I fight the temptation to ask.

I gaze at her. Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is falling out of the hair-tie it was haphazardly contained in.

She looks beautifully undone.

“Try it my way,” I insist again.

Please. I want this with you.