by Tess Summers
He was shaking his head before she’d even finished her thought.
“Not a chance. You’re not trained for this work, Reagan. It was one thing to let you in on the plan, it’s something completely different to let you be a part of the mission. There’s no way in hell your sister would agree to it—let alone me. I appreciate your enthusiasm and willingness to help, baby, but you’d be a liability, not an asset out there.”
“Number one—you don’t get to call me baby. Number two—I’m more skilled than you think I am. I would certainly not be a liability.”
Mason leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest as he surveyed her standing her ground in front of his desk. His blue eyes twinkled when he asked, “Have you ever killed someone, tough stuff? With a knife? Or, hell, even a gun? How about strangled them with your bare hands?”
She glanced down briefly. “No, of course not.”
“Well, sweetheart, that’s probably what’s going to be required. What did you think neutralize meant when I explained that part of the plan to you?”
She tried to hide her shock.
“I don’t know… knock them unconscious? Tie them up?”
“So you think you could do that part?”
“Well, sure.”
Mason shook his head, trying to disguise the smile on his face by pretending to rub his jaw.
“You’re a jerk,” she spit out before turning to leave. He quickly reached across the desk and grabbed her elbow to keep her from escaping, not letting go as he came around to where she stood.
“I’m not trying to be a jerk, but my little sprite, you’re not qualified for this assignment. I’ll bet you couldn’t kill a mouse, let alone a man.”
She didn’t respond, just looked down at her bare feet to avoid thinking about what he was saying. She decided she liked the pink color of her toenail polish.
He sat down and pulled her into his lap while she offered a token resistance.
With his chin on her shoulder, he traced circles on her arm as he told her, “That’s not a criticism. Your kind heart is something I admire and adore about you. I wouldn’t want you to change a thing.”
She leaned back to look him in the eye.
“So how is Keni qualified for this assignment? Has she killed someone before?”
Reagan could tell by the look on his face that she had. The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown, his eyes thoughtful.
“Your sister’s file isn’t my business to discuss.”
Wow. Kennedy really is a badass.
“I’m not asking you to gossip about the details; I just want to know—how qualified is she?”
With a poker face, he tucked her hair behind her ear, simply offering, “Sufficiently.”
Reagan was just now beginning to realize the extent of her sister’s badassery.
“I had no idea,” she whispered as she stared at the stapler on his desk. Looking back at him, she sat up straighter. “I mean, I guess must have known, deep down. She’d go away for months at a time, and there’d be no way we could contact her. But it was that way when she was in the Marines, too, so it didn’t seem strange. I just thought she was in locations where it wouldn’t be feasible to communicate with her family. I never realized her missions were so dangerous—until we were told she’d drowned. I thought it must have been really bad for her to drown—she was always an amazing swimmer. She could swim to the island in Pelican Lake in practically one breath.”
A slow smile formed on his lips.
“What?” Reagan asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. That just explains some things; it’s not in her file how strong a swimmer she is.”
“Probably not. The swim coach practically begged her to join the team in high school, but she wanted to play basketball instead.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “She turned out to be not very good.”
“What about you? Did you play any sports?”
She shrugged. “No, sports cost money. Money we didn’t have, and I wasn’t athletically inclined enough for coaches to take a chance and offer me a scholarship like they did Keni. Luckily, the art teacher at my school took me under her wing and made sure I had enough art supplies to do my homework. When I won my first competition, she told me the supplies were part of the prize. It wasn’t until after I’d graduated that I learned she’d paid for them out of her own pocket.” Her eyes welled with tears at the memory, and she brushed them away with her fingertips. “What about you? You had to have played sports.”
Mason grinned. “Football and baseball, although I was a better baseball player. I ended up playing catcher at a D2 school close to home.”
“What school?”
“University of New Haven.”
“Oh, that’s cool.”
She knew he could tell by her face she’d never heard of it but didn’t want to be rude and say as much.
“It’s okay, I’d never heard of it either until their recruiters came calling,” he said with a chuckle and wink.
“Still, that’s really impressive, Mason.”
He shrugged humbly. “It’s just throwing a ball; definitely nothing that requires talent like an art scholarship.”
Reagan cocked her head. “Why would you say that? Playing a sport takes a lot of talent.”
“But you were able to parlay your talent into a career.”
“True, but you were able to use yours to pay for an education that translated into a career, so, I don’t really see the difference.”
“I guess. I just think you’re über-talented, and I’m in awe.”
She made a face.
“How do you know I’m über-talented?” She put air quotes around the phrase.
“I have Google, sweetheart. I saw your work in the Etherton Gallery.”
She gulped, feeling her cheeks turn pink.
“You—you did? Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “I was curious about you.”
“When did you do that?”
“When you were napping.”
After they’d had sex, he meant.
“I wasn’t lying. You have bewitched me. I want to know everything about you, Reagan Elizabeth Jones.”
“Don’t you think that’ll ruin the mystery? Then I’ll just be plain ol’ vanilla Reagan Jones, part-time graphic arts instructor from Fargo, North Dakota, whose idea of a wild, exciting night is bowling and margaritas with girlfriends at Bowl-o-Rama. I lead a very dull life, Mason. The shine will wear off quickly once you get to know me.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“I doubt that, sassy pants. I think you’re beautiful, intelligent, spunky, and sexy as hell. That translates to anywhere you are—Fargo, North Dakota, Ensenada, Mexico, Paris, France, or somewhere in between. You fascinate me, not your geography.”
“My point is I’m not very interesting. You would be bored with me in a month.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She patted his cheek dismissively. “Believe it. Vanilla—no sprinkles.”
He was tracing his fingers up and down her spine, watching her face carefully as he pulled her back into his web.
“I’ll bring the sprinkles,” he said softly.
Damn that man and his dimple. And blue eyes. And six-pack abs. And the wicked tongue that had done amazing things to her body earlier. Unspeakable, dirty things.
He leaned down and captured her mouth with his, and she let out a whimper. She was helpless against his charms. His lips were tender as he caressed her mouth with his. It wasn’t exactly a chaste kiss, but it wasn’t slam-her-against-the-wall passionate—it was loving.
When he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers with his eyes closed, she whispered, “Are you going to kill me?”
“It guts me that you’re afraid of me.”
“Answer the question.”
He tilted her chin so she was looking into his crystal blue eyes.
“I would die rather than h
urt you, Reagan. I swear on my grandmother’s grave—you have nothing to fear from me.”
She believed him in her soul, but her head was screaming at her that she was an idiot.
****
Mason
He’d considered leaving her alone tonight, then realized he only had two more nights with her, so fuck that. He didn’t even care if they had sex, as long as he could hold her all night. Wake up next to her. Touch her.
Mason patted her thigh. “Come on, sassy, let’s go to bed.”
Reagan leaned back, her eyebrows raised. “Sassy? What happened to sassy pants?”
He grinned as he lifted her off his lap. “It’s a nickname for your nickname.”
They walked to her cabin, and he followed her in, tugging his t-shirt over his head and kicking off his shoes as he walked toward the bed.
She looked at him, obviously startled. “Wait, you’re sleeping here tonight?”
“Yeah, I am. We don’t have to mess around, I just want to have you next to me so I know you’re safe. But, for the record, I’m not opposed to messing around.”
“Fat chance,” she huffed as walked into the bathroom with her pajamas—to change, he assumed.
“I’ve already seen you naked,” he called through the door. “You can change in front of me, you know.”
After a beat, the door opened, and she reappeared in the white satin pajama set. He hadn’t noticed the heart-shaped buttons when he bought it. She looked so sweet and innocent; knowing she wasn’t—just with him, in his mind, at least—he immediately sprung wood. Since he was only wearing white boxer briefs, it was kind of hard to disguise, and she pointedly looked down at his dick then at his face with a look that suggested, Really?
“Sorry, sassy, you look so pure in those white PJs—it makes me want to do dirty things to you.”
They moved to either side of the bed, pulling back the covers at the same time.
“Well, there will be no more of that,” she mumbled as she slid into bed, then reached up to switch the lamp on the nightstand off.
Mason covered the distance in the king-sized bed and pulled her into his body. He noticed she didn’t put up a fuss.
“No can do, sweetheart. I only have two more nights with you. I wasted last night without you in my arms. Not making that mistake again.”
“Fine.” Her tone suggested she was annoyed, yet she turned over and snuggled into his side, wrapping her arm around his middle.
Was it possible to be in love with someone after only knowing them two days?
His father’s words echoed in his ear.
Combustion.
How was he going to let her go in a few days?
He really had no idea, but he had no idea how he could possibly keep her either.
As pissed off as he’d been at his brother for pissing away his career over a woman, and possibly losing his life, Mason finally began to understand what had driven Marcus to such extremes. Because he knew without a doubt that he’d be willing to do the same for Reagan.
He tightened his grip on her hip. He was so fucked.
Chapter Eleven
Mason
Falling asleep with a rock-hard dick proved easier than he’d thought. He had some kick-ass sex dreams though—and she was anything but vanilla in them.
He wondered if he was still dreaming when he was roused from his slumber and found her between his legs, his cock out and in her hand as she studied it carefully. Mason wasn’t sure if she knew that he was awake and watching her. She seemed enthralled with his member, subtly stroking the shaft then tentatively snaking her tongue out, licking around his helmet. He decided to pretend he was still asleep—he thought that would embolden her and help her continue. And he definitely wanted her to keep going.
She sucked his tip into her mouth, and he groaned out loud, keeping his eyes shut while he tried to pass it off that he was dreaming. The little minx took him deeper and deeper in her mouth until he heard her gag and slurp off him. Her grip became firmer as she stroked his slippery cock from the base while bobbing her head up and down. Her tongue skimmed along the vein on the underside of his dick, pressing hard, and he moaned again while lifting his hips slightly. She took him deep in her mouth again and held him there, not gagging this time. When she moaned around his shaft, he felt his cock flex in her throat and almost came right then.
She slowly pulled him from her mouth and resumed jerking him—faster this time—and her other hand cupped his balls. Mason warred with himself about letting her know he was awake. He worried she’d lose her brazenness, and that boldness was turning him the fuck on. He didn’t want it to stop.
She returned her mouth to his cock while she continued stroking his shaft with one hand and manipulating his sac in her other hand like her own personal Baoding balls. He felt his climax start in his stomach, and began to pant heavier. She must have known he was close to coming because she squeezed him a little firmer, pulled faster on his cock, and sucked harder as she increased her tempo with her mouth.
Mason began to grunt, hoping to warn her he was about to come. To his surprise, Miss Self-Proclaimed Vanilla sucked him until he came, taking every drop of his cum in her mouth and swallowing. He would have loved to have seen that.
Next time.
Then a sad thought entered his brain. Will there be a next time? There had to be.
She gently pulled his underwear back up around him, making sure the waistband was straight, then nestled in against his side. He felt her smile against his chest, like she’d just completed a covert mission with him being none the wiser.
He was about to return the favor; then he heard soft snoring coming from his little sexy sprite.
In the morning.
****
Reagan
Oh my god, I totally gave Mason a blowjob in the middle of the night.
He had a really nice cock. Just the right size, straight, a little veiny, and the tip was perfectly shaped. The coloring was a nice contrast to his skin tone.
It was the graphic designer in her; what could she say? She noticed things like that.
When he saw she was awake, he rolled over and put his head to her chest, murmuring, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
She looked up at the ceiling and bit the corner of her bottom lip.
“Was it really slutty to wake you in the middle of the night like that?”
Reagan felt him chuckle.
“I didn’t know if I was supposed to pretend it was all a dream.”
Lifting her head slightly, she looked down at him.
“What? No, of course not. Is that why you barely responded? I thought maybe I was doing it wrong.”
Plunking her head back on the pillow, she heard him mutter, “Definitely nothing wrong with your technique.”
Well, that was a relief. She’d given head before—more times than a nice girl should be willing to admit—but she wasn’t exactly confident in her abilities.
His fingers began to trace up her side to her breast until he was palming it and lightly massaging her flesh.
“One thing you need to know about me, sweetheart, is I’m all about reciprocation.”
He moved to kneel beside her and pushed her nipple up between his lips. She decided she liked reciprocation—she liked it a lot.
He took his time swirling his tongue and biting down on her puckered flesh, alternating between each boob while kneading the opposite one. Was it possible to have an orgasm just from having your breasts played with? Because she was on the cusp.
She arched her back off the bed as she ran her fingers through his hair, moaning her approval of his attention.
One of his hands reached between her legs, and she knew he found her soaked; she was so turned on. He slid a finger inside her as his thumb circled her clit. Good grief, he knew exactly how to touch her. But she wanted more.
Stroking his leaking cock over his underwear, she begged, “Please fuck me, Mason. Please,” before tugging on
the waistband.
His cock sprang free, and he awkwardly pulled the boxer briefs down his thighs while she got onto all fours. Wiggling her behind at him, Reagan giggled, “Hurry!” and was rewarded with a slap to her ass as Mason leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer.
She heard the tearing of the package, followed by the sound of latex being slipped onto his dick, and she raised her hips higher in anticipation. Reagan was expecting his cock, which he satisfyingly thrust inside her, but she was not expecting him to wrap his arm around her waist and polish her clit as he fucked her.
“Oh yes. Fuck, that feels so good,” she purred, widening her knees to encourage him to fuck her deeper.
He softly bit her back as he continued manhandling her clit while rhythmically pumping his cock into her pussy. Her body flushed hot, and Mason increased the pressure on her knot while quickening the pace. Soon, she was dropping her hips as the most delicious orgasm racked her body, making her shudder and spasm beneath him. He never let up on his ministrations until her pussy began to milk his cock, then he leaned back, gripped her hips and started to pound her from behind. The sound of their flesh slapping was erotic, and his balls hitting her sensitive clit had her falling over the edge just as he roared his release. His rumble as he came was so fucking sexy—and the fact that she’d caused him to do it made her feel like a goddess.
His hands came around her body to palm her tits and tug her tighter into him, his face burrowing into her neck.
“Fuuuuck,” he growled right below her ear—the spot that always made her break out in goosebumps.
Mason chuckled when he felt the dots on her flesh and began to kiss down her spine as he gently pulled out of her.
“Hold that thought,” he whispered, then disappeared into the bathroom. She collapsed on the bed with a thud, and rolled over when he returned moments later with a towel for her. This time, instead of handing it to her, he tended to cleaning her up himself.
He threw the towel on the ground and wrapped his arms around her as they lay on the bed, neither saying anything.
She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t think “Oh, hey, I think I might be falling in love with you, but I know that’s a disaster waiting to happen since I’m outta here tomorrow, but thanks for the amazing sex in the meantime” was very appropriate. Even if it perfectly described how she was feeling.