Combustion: Ensenada Heat Book Two

by Tess Summers

  “Mmm, yes, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.”

  She started to gasp and buck, and Mason rubbed her nub frantically while fighting his own impending release.

  “That’s it, you dirty girl. Come while you fuck me like a naughty slut.”

  Those were the magic words. She went still and threw her head back, and he felt her pussy begin to milk his cock. His self-control dissipated.

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she chanted, then shuddered forward, jerking uncontrollably.

  He pulled her hips down tight against his as he began to spurt rope after rope inside her.

  Goddamn, bareback with this woman is the shit.

  She lay on top of his chest with his arms wrapped around her, both of them trying to catch their breath. Beads of sweat at her hairline made her face stick to his skin when she tried to move. He could feel his cum leaking out of her onto his leg. He fucking loved it.

  Finally, she rolled off him and scurried to the bathroom while he enjoyed the view of her backside. She returned a few minutes later with a towel and washcloth and carefully cleaned him up, even lifting his balls and wiping underneath before drying him off.

  When she was satisfied, she tossed the linens in a hamper in the corner of the room and climbed back in bed with him.

  They lay there silently, bodies touching, until she asked in a quiet voice, “Weren’t we supposed to just snuggle?”

  “Sorry, not sorry,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through her hair.

  As a matter of fact, he was just the opposite.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mason

  The next couple of days could only be described as wonderful, with the exception of the healing bullet wounds in his body that prohibited him from leaving the villa or taking the lead when it came to having sex. But being holed up with the woman he loved more than made up for it. He couldn’t wait to get snowed in with her this winter in Fargo when he was healthy. He imagined that would be as close to perfect as it got.

  Other than the few short hours she spent at her sister’s every day when the nurse came, they’d been with each other every waking moment—which only served to help him fall deeper in love with her.

  He’d declined an agency assignment, saying he had injured himself without going into specifics of when or where.

  Marcus had gotten the hero’s welcome that Eddie had said he would—especially given how the rescue had ‘somehow’ been leaked to the media. That was convenient since he’d brought the thirteen rescued women to the States for asylum—it helped the powers that be overlook the borrowing of the yacht. The agency interviewed them and decided to reopen their investigation—probably more as a PR stunt then anything, but at least his brother had been allowed to retire quietly.

  The idea of retirement was a lot more appealing to Mason these days.

  He allowed himself to consider what it would be like to live a semi-normal life with Reagan and decided he liked it. He had been daydreaming about marrying her and having babies, which was probably why he agreed when she asked if he would go to Madison’s baptism with her and meet her mother, along with Dante and Bella’s guests.

  Sitting on the bed and looking at the suit she’d laid out for him, he wondered out loud, “What the fuck have I done?”

  This was such a bad idea—of epic proportions.

  The alarm bells should have been going off when they were creating his cover story. Mason and Reagan had just recently started dating after meeting online, and he was a chef exploring opening his own restaurant. That would alleviate the risk of him saying he was employed somewhere and having one of the guests be familiar with the restaurant he named. He knew the hard way what a small world it was. But as they fabricated the story, he found himself wanting it to be true and wondering what it would take to make it happen.

  Hopefully nothing as drastic as Agent Jones had had to do.

  A dose of reality set in that morning as he went about the task of getting ready. He should not have agreed to this. He needed to tell her he couldn’t go.

  “Hey, I forgot—I bought you an ascot; it should help hide the bandages on your neck, and you won’t have to button the top button on your shirt,” she said as she walked in the room with a teal tie that matched the new silk dress she was wearing.

  She looked stunning. Her dress was pleated and draped, showing off her tight figure; the color made her hair, which was curled and flowing around her shoulders, look even more fiery red than usual and the green in her eyes sparkle a little brighter. The matching peep-toe, four-inch pumps made her legs look a mile long. Her skin still was sun-kissed from the day she’d spent on deck on the yacht, and the soft pink lipstick on her lips made him want to grab her and kiss it off her.

  Her bright smile forced him to swallow any talk of not going with her. There was no way he was doing anything to ruin her happiness.

  “Wow, you look amazing,” he said, letting out a low whistle.

  She grinned and smoothed invisible wrinkles along the front of her dress.

  “What? This old thing?”

  He grasped for her hand to pull her between his legs where he sat on the bed.

  “That might have worked if I hadn’t watched you cut the price tags off it last night,” he murmured with a wink and stroked her hipbone over the silky material. “You really do look beautiful, sweetheart.”

  Reagan cupped his face in her hand as she looked down into his eyes.

  “Thank you, baby. And thank you for going with me today. It really does mean a lot to me.”

  Score one for me keeping my mouth shut.

  “I’m honored to be your date.”

  She leaned down and softly kissed his lips, pulling away just as he became hungry for more of her and his cock started to tent his boxer briefs.

  “You need to get dressed. The driver is going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

  He sighed, and she pecked his lips again.

  “We have two more full days here,” she offered in consolation as she stepped away from him.

  “Two more days of having you all to myself,” he murmured.

  “Then it’s back to reality.”

  Well, reality for her; not exactly for him. He was going to be a guest in her home in Fargo, starting physical therapy and increasing his presence with the agency—online, at least, while trying to meld into her everyday life. He had no idea what was in store for him, but decided as long as he was with her, he didn’t care what it was.

  He began the task of getting dressed, careful of his bandaged leg as he changed out of his loose shorts and put the suit pants on.

  “Did you make an appointment with the physical therapist?” she asked while putting her earrings in.

  “Yeah, actually I was able to do it online. I’m scheduled to start on Friday. I hope it’s okay that I used your address?”

  She furrowed her brow slightly.

  “Well, yeah, it’s okay. That’s where you’re going to be living, isn’t it?”

  Holy shit, we’re going to be living together.

  He hadn’t thought of it like that. He’d never lived with a woman other than his mom when he was growing up. He had never even shared a bedroom before, unless you counted his dorm room his freshman year in college.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked while looking at him in the mirror.

  He realized he’d been scowling and quickly tried to neutralize his expression with a placating smile.

  “Nothing. I just realized I’d never lived with a woman before, other than my mom. I’m a little anxious about what it’s going to be like. Is your makeup going to be all over the bathroom counter? Do you leave your wet towel on the floor? Will I drive you crazy with some of my OCD tendencies?”

  She smiled and turned around to face him. “You have OCD tendencies? Like what?”

  He thought about it for a second.

  “I guess I’m just very particular. I like things neat and orderly. Vacuum tracks have to line up; th
e bed should be made in the morning; everything has its place.”

  Reagan moved to place the ascot around his neck and help him tie it.

  “Well, you are in luck. I have wood floors and a robot vacuum that moves in circles so it doesn’t leave marks on the area rugs. I always make the bed unless I wake up late, and I tend to be pretty tidy.” She smiled before kissing his cheek, then, with her hands on his shoulders, whispered in his ear. “It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

  He looked up at her and smiled.

  “It’s going to be perfect, sassy pants.”

  ****

  Reagan

  The driver showed up precisely on time.

  “Is this your usual driver?” he asked when they walked through the villa gates. She knew he was armed; she’d seen him put the holster on before putting on his suit jacket.

  “Yes, his name is Carlos. He’s been driving me all week.”

  “Okay,” he said and opened the back door for her.

  They were quiet throughout most of the drive, although he twined his fingers through hers. Every time she would glance over at him, he would catch her eye and wink with a smile.

  “Thank you again for coming. Meeting you is all my mother has talked about since she found out you existed.”

  “How did she find out?”

  “She was worried about me staying at the villa alone, so I mentioned you were there with me.”

  “And tell me again how I came to be at the villa?”

  “You were so relieved once you found out I was safe, you had to fly here to be with me.”

  “And why am I on crutches?”

  “Car accident.”

  “Why haven’t I met your mom before today?”

  “I didn’t know how serious we were.”

  He grinned at her. “And how serious are we?”

  She returned his smile. “Madly in love, moving-in-together serious.”

  Mason wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side.

  “Well, at least you’re not completely lying to your mother.”

  They pulled up to the estate, and she took a deep breath before sliding out the car door.

  “Here we go.”

  Mason hobbled out then stood with the aid of his crutches, and they went up the front stairs together. It was amazing how well he got around on those things.

  “Reagan, you made it!” her mother, dressed in a tight red mini-dress, cried when they walked through the door. She suspected Delilah had been waiting at the window for them. “And this must be your young man.”

  “Mama, this is Mason Davis. Mason, my mother, Delilah Jones.”

  Fuck. She hoped that was the last name he’d told her to use. He had so many aliases, she had asked him to use the one with his real first name because she felt certain she was going to slip up with that.

  Her mother, never one to recognize social cues, hugged Mason, making him stagger under his crutches.

  “So nice to meet you, Mason,” Delilah gushed, oblivious to almost knocking the man on crutches on his ass.

  To his credit, he adjusted and hugged her back as best he could.

  “Great to meet you, too, Ms. Jones.”

  “Please, call me Delilah. Or mom.”

  Oh my god.

  Thankfully, Bella walked in with the baby just then. Her sister looked stunning in an ivory lace dress that flattered her amazing post-baby figure, her dyed-brown hair piled on top of her head. Baby Maddie was in a traditional white taffeta and lace-applique christening gown that flowed at least a foot past her tiny feet. A large bow headband completed the ensemble.

  “Mama… you’re going to scare the poor man off with talk like that,” her sister scolded, then smiled warmly at Mason. “Glad to see you’re doing better. I have to admit, I was surprised you were feeling up to coming today.”

  Reagan knew that was Bella’s way of admonishing Mason for what she thought was him being reckless with his cover.

  “I knew it meant a lot to Reagan.”

  She decided a change of subject was needed, and quick. She made a demonstrative face at Madison and took the baby from her mother.

  “How’s my goddaughter? Are you ready to be baptized? Look how beautiful you are.”

  Madison smiled a big toothless grin in return.

  “Can you say hi to Mason? Isn’t he handsome in his new suit and tie?”

  He reached out and offered the baby his finger and a big smile. Her ovaries were in heaven.

  The little girl gurgled in response, and Bella was quick to wipe her face so she didn’t drool on the gown.

  “You don’t even wanna know how much Dante spent on this dress,” she said rolling her eyes as she made sure to get the baby’s face clean. “I think Father Castellanos is setting up out back if you want to take your seats. Rosa and Maria are preparing brunch for afterward, so the kitchen is kind of crazy right now, but there’s a punch bowl and waters on the patio.”

  Before Reagan could hand Madison back to Bella, her gorgeous brother-in-law came down the stairs in a suit and tie, and his daughter smiled broadly the sight of him.

  “I guess she’s a daddy’s girl,” Mason chuckled as Dante took the baby.

  She watched the Mexican man beam with pride at his progeny as he held her in one arm, his other hand firmly wrapped around his wife’s waist. They were the picture-perfect family.

  “I think someone already has her daddy wrapped around her finger.” Reagan smirked.

  “It’s easy to do,” Dante said as he kissed his little girl’s wispy hair. “You wait and see how Mason is when you two have one.”

  Surprisingly, Mason smiled and winked at Reagan, not taking his eyes off her when he replied, “I’m sure I’ll be the same way.”

  Bella made a choking noise and started coughing uncontrollably; Dante patted her back.

  Reagan’s tummy started to feel warm, and she found she couldn’t stop smiling, even as her sister seemed to be choking to death at the thought.

  “Do you need some water, Bella?” Mason asked. The amusement in his tone was so subtle, Reagan wasn’t sure if anyone else caught it.

  “No, I’m fine,” her older sibling gasped.

  The doorbell rang with more guests, so they took the opportunity to escape to the backyard with Delilah in tow.

  “We are going to have beautiful babies,” he murmured in her ear once they sat down in the front row.

  There was that tingling in her tummy again.

  “I think so, too,” she whispered back and pecked his cheek.

  ****

  Mason

  He looked around at the guests and immediately recognized some big names in the cartel world. Miguel Hernandez—El Rey, a supplier from Tucson who was slowly making a move into San Diego—was with his oldest daughter, Laila a few rows back. John Turner, Dante’s right hand man out of San Diego, was upfront serving as godfather next to Reagan as godmother. Ramon Guzman, the new head of the Guzman family, was sitting next to his brother, Jesús, Dante’s father.

  Bella, who was sitting next to him, saw him looking around and leaned over to ask, “Do you feel like you voluntarily walked into the lion’s den?”

  “Something like that,” Mason admitted.

  He heard her chuckle—it sounded just like Reagan.

  “Don’t worry. As long as you behave yourself, and you’re a guest of my sister’s, your cover is safe here. At least on our end. Speaking from experience, it’s your end you should be worried about.”

  The guest list was minimal; Dante had gone to great lengths to protect Bella’s identity, so Mason doubted there were any double agents in attendance. And if there were, the CIA agent thought he was deep enough undercover that he wouldn’t be recognized. He doubted anyone would pay attention to him anyway, as the date of the squeaky-clean, artistic godmother from Fargo.

  Bella continued quietly as she prepared to stand, “But you should give a lot of consideration to what it would mean for my sister if y
our cover were to be blown.”

  The priest called Madison’s parents forward, so the conversation was over.

  Mason knew Bella was just looking out for her baby sister, and if he were being honest, knew her misgivings about him were valid. Spies didn’t have real relationships. Everyone in the agency knew that unwritten rule. Because loving someone meant possibly putting that person’s life in danger.

  But as he stared at his date while she held her niece in front of the guests in the backyard, he couldn’t fathom being without her. Was he being naïve thinking they could be together? Or selfish?

  His answer would come soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Reagan

  She hadn’t known it was possible for her heart to be this full, but watching Mason in his suit, holding her niece, and making her giggle with laughter, Reagan had never felt happier.

  He was going to be a great dad someday. To their children. She felt it in her soul that he was Mr. Right.

  Mason glanced over and saw her watching him and Maddie. His dimple when he smiled at her made her toes curl.

  She felt like a schoolgirl whose crush just noticed her for the first time—which was sort of wonderful because not once in school did one of her crushes ever notice her. She was one of the poor redheaded Jones girls whose second-hand clothes were either too small or too large, and who was always the class charity case.

  She stole another glance at the gorgeous blond man, and he held out his hand toward her.

  Scratch that. It wasn’t like her crush noticing her, it was like the star quarterback just asked her to be his girlfriend.

  Is it possible to die from happiness?

  She sat on the expensive velvet sofa next to him and began talking to Madison, who cooed and giggled in response. Mason subtly hooked his pinky finger through Reagan’s and gently squeezed before letting go.

  Bella appeared before them.

  “I need to feed my daughter,” she said with a smile as she reached down to pluck the smiling baby from Mason’s lap. Her niece was equally happy to see her mother, and Bella whisked her away to the nursery in order to breastfeed in private. Reagan wasn’t surprised when she noticed Dante disappear, and knew he’d gone to be with his wife and baby girl for some quiet time together.