sharply to the looks that Jack and Caroline turned on her. “He’s trying to use us. Please explain to me why we can’t turn that back around on him.”
“My wife is smart,” Jack said. “Morally gray sometimes, but smart. And, I think, right.”
“I need to go see him,” Caroline said. “I need to go and talk to him.”
“Keep us updated,” Missy said, and hugged her firmly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
This time, she threw a couple changes of clothes into the car, just in case she ended up spending the night again. She had no idea what was going to happen when she walked in the door. She wouldn’t blame him for shouting, and she wouldn’t mind if he hugged her so tight that it was hard to breathe.
He’d responded quickly to her text saying that she was on her way, saying he’d meet her at the apartment. The door was locked when she got there, though. She pulled out the key Mason had given her and turned it, but before she could even twist the handle, it turned and opened. She felt Mason’s hand close on her wrist, was yanked into the apartment, and the door slammed behind her. Her back was up against the door, and he was kissing her, grinding his mouth against her, his hands coursing over her body, one hand tight on her breast, the other squeezing at her ass, pulling her tight against him.
For one split second, she panicked, and her hands went to his chest, ready to shove at him, ready to scream. And then he was away, his hands running through his hair. His curly red hair, loose around his shoulders for once.
“Sorry,” he said. “Inappropriate. Not everyone reacts to stress like me. Working on it. Are you okay?”
“Yes. He didn’t hurt me, anyway.”
His words were as much growl as they were human sound. “He put his hands on you. He would have hurt you if he could have.”
She looked into his eyes, and she understood the desire, the swelling need to be safe with someone. “So get over here and make it better,” she said.
His eyes were dark and animal. “Are you very sure?”
She nodded. “I need— I need to know I’m still powerful. I need to know that I’m still in control.”
The darkness shifted, and he grinned. “Then tell me what you want, baby.”
Darkness found a mirror in her, and shifted, and she was panting, wet, eager. “You,” she said. “I want you.”
He leaned in closer, his hands behind his back like a little boy at a museum. His erection was clear, even in his jeans, and it brushed over her belly, trailing heat behind it. She wanted him to touch her, to burn her up, and he was taunting her with his refusal. “Tell me,” he said, separating the words carefully. “What you want.”
“On your knees,” she said, because it was the only thing she could think of. He dropped like a stone, with a thump that made her own legs ache, but he went without question, his hands still carefully behind his back. That, and his hair falling in strawberry curls around his shoulders, framing his face, softened everything about him, made him seem younger, gentler. And the way he was watching her, the delicate light in his eyes, dancing through the darkness. “Kiss me,” she said.
He leaned forward, his balance delicate, and with his teeth, he tugged her shirt out of the way, then licked and teased at the skin of her navel. Her jeans sat low on her hips, and were a bit on the loose side; his tongue slid under the fabric, teasing at the delicate skin between her navel and her mound. She couldn’t stop the delicate cry that choked out of her at his caress. “More,” she whispered.
“May I used my hands?” he asked.
“Yes. Please, yes.”
She’d expected him to move quickly, eagerly, but instead, his fingers trailed up the inside of her thighs, torturing her even through the denim, wandering up to hook into her belt loops and tug her against his mouth for a moment.
He breathed heat
“My wife is smart,” Jack said. “Morally gray sometimes, but smart. And, I think, right.”
“I need to go see him,” Caroline said. “I need to go and talk to him.”
“Keep us updated,” Missy said, and hugged her firmly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
This time, she threw a couple changes of clothes into the car, just in case she ended up spending the night again. She had no idea what was going to happen when she walked in the door. She wouldn’t blame him for shouting, and she wouldn’t mind if he hugged her so tight that it was hard to breathe.
He’d responded quickly to her text saying that she was on her way, saying he’d meet her at the apartment. The door was locked when she got there, though. She pulled out the key Mason had given her and turned it, but before she could even twist the handle, it turned and opened. She felt Mason’s hand close on her wrist, was yanked into the apartment, and the door slammed behind her. Her back was up against the door, and he was kissing her, grinding his mouth against her, his hands coursing over her body, one hand tight on her breast, the other squeezing at her ass, pulling her tight against him.
For one split second, she panicked, and her hands went to his chest, ready to shove at him, ready to scream. And then he was away, his hands running through his hair. His curly red hair, loose around his shoulders for once.
“Sorry,” he said. “Inappropriate. Not everyone reacts to stress like me. Working on it. Are you okay?”
“Yes. He didn’t hurt me, anyway.”
His words were as much growl as they were human sound. “He put his hands on you. He would have hurt you if he could have.”
She looked into his eyes, and she understood the desire, the swelling need to be safe with someone. “So get over here and make it better,” she said.
His eyes were dark and animal. “Are you very sure?”
She nodded. “I need— I need to know I’m still powerful. I need to know that I’m still in control.”
The darkness shifted, and he grinned. “Then tell me what you want, baby.”
Darkness found a mirror in her, and shifted, and she was panting, wet, eager. “You,” she said. “I want you.”
He leaned in closer, his hands behind his back like a little boy at a museum. His erection was clear, even in his jeans, and it brushed over her belly, trailing heat behind it. She wanted him to touch her, to burn her up, and he was taunting her with his refusal. “Tell me,” he said, separating the words carefully. “What you want.”
“On your knees,” she said, because it was the only thing she could think of. He dropped like a stone, with a thump that made her own legs ache, but he went without question, his hands still carefully behind his back. That, and his hair falling in strawberry curls around his shoulders, framing his face, softened everything about him, made him seem younger, gentler. And the way he was watching her, the delicate light in his eyes, dancing through the darkness. “Kiss me,” she said.
He leaned forward, his balance delicate, and with his teeth, he tugged her shirt out of the way, then licked and teased at the skin of her navel. Her jeans sat low on her hips, and were a bit on the loose side; his tongue slid under the fabric, teasing at the delicate skin between her navel and her mound. She couldn’t stop the delicate cry that choked out of her at his caress. “More,” she whispered.
“May I used my hands?” he asked.
“Yes. Please, yes.”
She’d expected him to move quickly, eagerly, but instead, his fingers trailed up the inside of her thighs, torturing her even through the denim, wandering up to hook into her belt loops and tug her against his mouth for a moment.
He breathed heat
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