by Tijan
I stepped inside. Shooting him a dark look, I said, “It’s the third door on the left.”
He flashed me a grin. “Ah. So you have been here before.”
“Whose door is the second on the right?”
“Mine.” He was beaming. As I stepped past him, heading for the stairs, I smelled alcohol on his breath. Things were making sense. He laughed to himself, saying, “It would’ve been awkward if you had gone to my room.” Then he shut the door, locked it, and went to the living room.
I paused, right before going upstairs. He plopped down on the couch, pulled a blanket over him, and burrowed face first into the cushions. He mumbled, “Hit the lights, would you? They’re right there.”
I skimmed the wall. “Where?” I saw nothing.
“Right there.” His voice was becoming drowsy. “Left wall.”
I glanced to the right instead and there they were. Flipping them off, I saw a small light upstairs, so I could still see. When I started up, I heard him mumble, “Thank you.”
The light was off in Mason’s room, and hearing loud snoring from inside, I left it off. Tiptoeing in, I went to the direction of Mason’s bed and felt for the bedcovers. Before I could wake him, a hand snaked out and grabbed onto my wrist. With a cement-like hold on me, I was pushed in the direction of the hallway. Mason got up from the bed, looming large over me. He never made a sound. For a moment, my heart paused, and a chill went down my spine. Once we were in the hallway, he shut the door and pushed me against the wall, still holding onto my arm. The little light illuminated the side of his face, and I could see the fury in his eyes. His mouth was pressed in a flat line. His jaw clenched, and he rasped out, “What the fuck are you doing?”
The air was held trapped in my throat. I couldn’t talk for a second, then I whispered, “Mason?”
His eyes narrowed.
I waited a beat.
His hand abruptly dropped mine, and he stepped back. “Sam?”
“Yeah.” My heart slammed back into pace, pounding against my chest. “Holy shit. Who did you think I would be?”
A door opened from across the hallway. A girl stood there in a tight shirt and skirt, wiping her mouth. Her hair looked like she had just run her fingers through it. She started out to the hallway, saw us, and jerked back. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She went back into the room and slammed the door shut.
It took one second. That’s all I needed before I knew who she was. Marissa. Even thinking that name was like a punch in my gut. I looked at Mason, leaned back against the wall, and crossed my arms over my chest. “What the fuck is Marissa doing here?”
He ran a hand over his face and cursed. “She was wasted at Cliché.”
“She’s not wasted now.” My blood was starting to boil. “I want her gone.”
He held his hands up, backing away. “I’ll take care of it. Promise.” Pausing in front of that door, he glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m not leaving.”
“I know. I just…” A small grin appeared and he raked his gaze over my face, lingering on my lips. “I’m happy you’re here.”
Oh fuck. My blood went down to a simmer at the look in his eyes. I rolled my eyes. “I want her gone, Mason.”
“I know. I know.” He knocked on the door and braced his hand against the doorframe. As he did, his back muscles bunched together and my mouth went dry. I skimmed down his back, to his lean waist, and saw the boxers he was still wearing. They were black and molded to his ass. I wet my lips. An ache started between my legs, and I pressed them together. It’d been too long since I felt him, since he held me in his arms, since I felt his lips against my skin. I closed my eyes shut. He was getting ready to kick her out of the house, and all I wanted to do was jump him. Leaning back against the wall, I moved my hand to touch the plaster. The cool feel of it helped some reality sink in, only a tiny bit.
He knocked again. “Marissa?”
Waves of longing and yearning crashed down on me. I blinked, shaking my head. I heard her say through the door, “Is Sam still there?”
Wait. Here came the anger, tangling with need to feel him inside me. Mason lifted his head, looked at me, and paused. His gaze met mine, and he saw the tornado whirling in me. His eyebrows lifted, and he straightened from the wall. “You okay?”
I tried to shake my head. I couldn’t talk, and my neck muscles were stiff. My chin moved just slightly. I choked out, “Leave her.”
He nodded, reaching out to me. As his hand touched my arm, I shivered. His thumb rubbed over my skin, and I bit down on my lip. A groan escaped me. As it did, as I tried to swallow it, I couldn’t look away from him. He was having the same reaction. As he heard my groan, his eyes darkened and he went back to watching my lips. Pulling me to him, he bent his forehead to mine, and murmured, “My roommate’s in there.”
I shook my head. I didn’t care, and losing the will over my own body, I pressed against him. He was hard. Feeling the bulge, my eyes closed. I moved against him, pressed my hips into his, and rubbed against him.
“Sam.” His voice was hoarse. “Shit. Okay.” Taking my hand, we went back into his room and through it to the bathroom. Once inside, he lifted me onto the counter and shut the door. It was locked and he hit the switch so the fan turned on.
I shook my head. That wouldn't be loud enough.
Groaning, he peeled away from me and went to the shower. It was turned on at full force, and he came back to me. I watched him, my mouth open, dry, and my heart pounded. I just wanted him in me. I wanted to feel his body pressed over mine as he moved in and out.
He stood in front of me, and his eyes drank me in with a stark look of need. I swallowed and began panting. I spread my legs, beckoning him, but his gaze trailed over me, down my front, lingering on my breasts, dropping to my waist. A look of fierce concentration came over him and his chest lifted. Holding still, his hand went to my leg. He grabbed hold of me, then moved between my legs. I started to wind them around him, but he shook his head. Gazing at my lips, he said, “No.” His hand lifted to my bottom lip, his eyes smoldering. He bent forward, his breath a caress over my skin as he said, “I love you so goddamn much.”
Reaching up, I grabbed the back of his head. My fingers fisted chunks of his hair, and I said, “Fuck me.”
A tender expression came over him, but he grinned and leaned down to touch his lips to mine. I sighed at the feel of them, just there, resting on mine. I waited, but he didn’t apply pressure. I needed that pressure, so I pressed up against him. I felt Mason holding back. Fuck that. My other hand grabbed the front of his boxers and I yanked him to me, scooting myself forward at the same time. We were pressed so tight together, he was almost in me. He was pressing right at my opening. I grinded against him, panting into his mouth.
He was trembling. His hand was still bracing himself against the counter. I ripped my mouth away.
His eyes were trained on my lips. His other hand ran down the side of my face, sweeping over my cheek, then my throat. It trailed all the way down until it rested between my breasts. “This, Sam. This is mine. This is what you have of mine too.” A look of love swept over him, filling his eyes, and he softened. I froze as that look raced through me, taking the world away. It was me and him. Right then. Right there. The emotion so damn thick in me, I murmured, “Mason.”
He shook his head, his forehead resting against mine. “You, Sam. I love you. Only you. When I’m not with you, I survive. When I’m with you, I live.”
“Mason.” Tears were running down my face. “I love you so goddamn much too.”
He nodded, touched his lips to mine again, and bent down to slide his hands underneath me. I was picked up from the counter and taken into the shower. He backed me up against the wall, still holding me upright, but it didn’t matter. My legs were wound so tight around him, I wasn’t going to fall. Running my hands over him, over his jaw, over his shoulders, down his chest, then back up to his face again, I opened my mouth to his. His tongue slid insi
de, meeting mine, and the kisses turned into a battle: who was commanding who. I growled as his tongue brushed mine, sending a heated frenzy through me.
My jeans were unzipped. His boxers were shoved down and kicked off. He took my hand, pressed it against the shower wall, and slid inside me.
I gasped, arching my back and exposing my throat. His mouth fell to lick there, and he began to move.
As he kept thrusting, I moved with him. We were moving as one, just wanting to feel the other, needing to feel the other, and right before I came, he nipped at my throat, then lifted his head back and met my gaze. We watched each other, seeing the release in our eyes. There was an explosion. A guttural groan came from him—no me. It was coming from me. Mason held me still, he wouldn’t look away, as I shook in his arms. When I was done, he dropped his head back down. His lips pressed against mine, and he breathed into me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
*
After drying off, I looked up at Mason. I didn’t want to talk. Love and so many other emotions were still with me, choking me, and he seemed to understand. He came to me, then bent and lifted me in the air. He carried me to his bed. As he reached to shut off the bathroom light, Matteo flipped over in his bed and mumbled from under the covers, “A shower, huh, brotha?”
Mason stiffened, but flipped the switch. The room went back to darkness and he replied, “Yeah.”
“That’s good…good for you.” His voice trailed off and a loud snore came next.
Ducking his head to my neck, I felt him laughing and bit down on my lip so my own didn’t slip out. Mason shook his head, but crossed the room to his bed. The covers were pulled back, and he set me down. I moved to one side and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sidled up behind me. A second later, he wrapped his arms around me and I closed my eyes. A deep satisfaction resounded throughout me, replacing all the anxiety and worries from before. For that moment, for that night, I knew I wouldn’t have to be concerned about anything.
He brushed his lips to my neck. “I love you. Thank you for coming.”
Feeling tears threatening to spill, I squeezed his arm. “I love you too.”
Then we went to sleep.
When I woke up, Mason was gone and a note was left on his nightstand. Practice, then home. Coffee downstairs. Some of the other players’ girlfriends are around. They can help if you need anything. Love you. Mason
After getting dressed, I snuck downstairs for coffee and a bottle of water, then went back up to his room. Before I went inside, I glanced over my shoulder to where she had been. The memory of Marissa came back to me and I wrinkled my nose. Mason hadn’t explained what she was doing here, but I wasn’t stupid. He thought that I was her when I first came in. The fact that he’d been prepared for that possibility, of her sneaking into his bed, didn’t sit well with me, but today was going to be a day of other confessions. I needed to tell him about Jackson.
I wanted to groan and bang my head against his desk. I called Logan instead.
It rang three times before he picked up, “Sam?”
“Hi.”
I grimaced. I had said it so stiffly, he would know something was wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
And he did. I let out a sigh, closed my eyes, and rubbed at the top of my nose. “She was here last night.”
“Who was?”
I didn’t get a second to tell him before he exploded, “Are you fucking kidding me? Marissa? He didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah.” I was miserable, then the rest clicked in. “Wait? You talked to Mason already?”
“He called to ask if something had happened. We didn’t talk long, but he never said anything about Marissa.”
“What did he say?”
“That was it really. He called and asked, ‘Did something happen? Sam’s here.’ My response was, ‘No.’ I didn’t say anything about Jackson because you told me not to; although, he won’t care. Then someone yelled his name and he hung up. That was the conversation.”
“Oh.”
“Why was she there?”
“He didn’t tell me yet. We,” my cheeks grew warm, “didn’t get too much talking done last night.”
“Oh.” He laughed. “Gotta love that my sister called me because she was too busy banging my brother to get an explanation about his stalker. That’s my new Twitter handle.”
“Logan,” I rolled my eyes, “you’re not helping.”
He had been laughing, but grew serious. “Oh come on, Sam. If she was there, she did something to get there. Since you’re not calling all butt-hurt, and you already told me you and Mason were getting it on—if you’re literally butt-hurt, I don’t want to know—I’m assuming she wasn’t in his bed?”
“No. Across the hall.” He thought that I’d been her. “Should I be worried about her?”
“Worried that Mason will cheat on you? Do you really need my response? I’m warning you. It’ll be sarcastic, witty, and somehow referring to your ass hurting again.”
I gripped my phone tighter. “You could’ve just said no.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“You might need to worry about her doing something crazy. The girl’s got something loose in her head. Mason never saw it. I think because she was so in love with him, but never tried to get anything from him. That’s my theory. He didn’t have a high opinion of any female at that time.”
Hearing a beep, I glanced at the screen and saw a call from him. I said to Logan, “I have to go.”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for calling me.”
“What?”
“You called me, right? That means you called me before Heather. Once you talk about something, you usually let it go. You’re not like other girls and talk about it over and over again.” His voice quieted. “Thank you.”
He sounded so grateful that I felt another tear at my eye. I brushed it away and murmured, “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Eh, about that…”
I glanced at the screen and saw that Mason had ended the call. Hearing the change from Logan, I sat up slowly. Growing concerned, I asked, “What did you do?”
“Yeah. Mason and I talked about one other thing before. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to know why you called.”
Why did a feeling of doom settle back on my chest? “What?”
“Kris and I are coming up for dinner.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MASON
Marissa was gone by the time I was dressed and heading out. There was no note. When I went downstairs, no one remembered seeing her leave. I didn’t question it. Marissa wasn’t my problem, but I knew Sam would worry, so when I got back from practice, we went to my room. Matteo said he would stay at his girlfriend’s again, so I knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. I needed this time with Sam. I needed to make things right.
I glanced at my watch. We had an hour before meeting Logan and Kris at the restaurant.
My throat was thick as I started, “I’m sorry, Sam.” I’d been so happy to see her last night that Marissa had been an afterthought, but looking at it through her point of view, I was ashamed. I should’ve taken Marissa to a hotel, not the house. “I need to explain why she was here in the first place. I will apologize profusely for it because I screwed up. She shouldn’t have been here, and I should’ve been thinking about you first the entire time.” I started with the facts. “She was wasted at the club. She had no phone, no purse. She wasn’t answering questions. We couldn’t find any of her friends, and I forgot my phone at home. I couldn’t call Nate, who would’ve known where she lived. Drew offered his room for her and that was it. A guy was all over her. If we had left her, I’m sure she would’ve been raped by him. But having said all that, she should’ve never been brought into this house. I wasn’t thinking. Drew was drunk. Matteo was twerking against everything. The car door. A street light. Our mail box. Marissa started to cry that we weren’t friends. I was
n’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”
If I’d been her, if I had come to her house and found Quinn in the hallway, I wouldn’t have handled it like her. I would’ve wanted to hurt him and probably would’ve, regardless of the circumstances. Sam was everything to me. Any guy that tried to threaten that, threaten our relationship, and I saw red. Even thinking about his past antics sent a fierce wave of anger through me. I protected Sam. That was my job, and I had failed last night.
“You thought I was her.”
“I did.” Fuck. “I couldn’t tell how drunk she was, but I know she has feelings for me. It was in the back of my mind that she might’ve tried to sneak in. I’m really sorry, Sam. I really am. Then you came in, and I saw red. I was mad at her for you. If that makes any sense. I was mad that she would dare try to come in when she knows I’m with you, when she knows how much I love you.” I grimaced, remembering how rough I had been as I grabbed her arm and pushed her into the hallway. “Are you okay? I grabbed you too hard last night.”
She nodded. “I’m fine. You didn’t. You were…” Her head hung down. “You were rough because you thought I was her. Thank you.” She looked back up, raw emotion swimming in her eyes. “Jeff never would’ve done that for me, but you do. You always take care of me.”
But I hadn’t. Not last night.
“She didn’t look drunk when she opened the door.” She looked up, searing me with the agony in her eyes. “She looked tired, but not drunk. Drew said you got in an hour before I got there. If she was that wasted, she wouldn’t have sobered up that quick.”
I sighed, sitting on the bed. “I know.”
She shook her head, blinking for a moment, and for that brief moment I couldn’t see the pain she was in. When she opened them again, it was there. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was a part of that. I had hurt Sam. Gritting my teeth, my hands curled into fists. I hated that. I hated any pain she might endure and knowing I had contributed to it, even if it hadn’t been intentional, gutted me.