Just a Little Kiss

by Renita Pizzitola

  It was almost as if I could divide him into three separate people: The Mason who was funny, and matched me in a game of humor and wit. The Mason I’d just discovered in the bathroom, who could turn my world upside down, pull the ground out from under my feet and send me spiraling into oblivion.

  And now this guy. The sweet Mason. The friend who I could talk to. The kind of person who would listen with no preconceived notions about who I was or what I should be. But instead, just took it all in as I offered it. Listened. Understood. Accepted.

  It should probably freak me out—a guy who seemed to have a different personality for every occasion—maybe have me questioning which one was real. But it didn’t because I think I already knew the answer. And that was the part I was having trouble accepting.

  No matter how much I wanted him to be, Mason wasn’t some one-dimensional Summer Boy.

  Chapter 12

  Felicity

  We didn’t bother going back to the party. I texted Isla. She said she understood, but I’m sure the guys thought I’d gone off the deep end. I wasn’t one for the dramatics, and ditching a party over something that dumb would be a giant serving of drama. But facing all the guys after they thought I’d had a huge meltdown combined with seeing Owen, who probably thought I’d screwed his cousin in the bathroom, was more than I cared to deal with tonight. Of course, I’d actually give Isla the rundown later but for now I just wanted to escape it all.

  “I’m starving. We should get a burger or something.” Mason looked around for a drive-through, but we only had two in this town, and I wouldn’t eat at either.

  “I don’t really eat meat.”

  “You’re a vegetarian?” He cocked a grin that was really freaking cute. It was weird how in the course of the last hour he was steadily getting more attractive. And there was no denying I’d always thought he was good-looking.

  “Not anymore. I eat meat sometimes. Just not often. And never red meat.”

  “So you hate fish and don’t eat red meat. What do you live off of?” He poked me in the ribs. “We need to put some meat on your bones. You need a hamburger.”

  “There’s this place down the road. Turn left on Coral. Lucy’s Café. She makes a turkey burger that’s good.”

  Mason narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Those two words don’t ever belong in the same sentence.”

  I laughed. “Well, she also makes a chicken potpie that I would sell my firstborn for.”

  “I don’t know if I’m comfortable negotiating our future children like that.” He flipped on his blinker and turned left on Coral. “But I’m willing to try it for myself.”

  He was making another old-married-couple joke like we’d both done in the past, but after the whole bathroom incident, it didn’t feel quite as funny. Nope, more like sweaty palms, rapid heartbeat, why-are-we-discussing-children panic-inducing. Of course, freaking out probably only confirmed that I was completely insane and overanalyzing every bit of whatever this was.

  I took a deep breath and pushed all that nonsense from my head. “It’s really good. It’s the dish that turned me.”

  Mason chuckled. “So this potpie completely changed the way you saw meat?”

  “Isla was eating it one day, and it looked so good. All creamy and delicious. I snagged a bite, thinking it was like a pie crust filled with vegetables, and I was done for. Lucy offered to make me a vegetarian version but at that point there was no turning back. What’s chicken potpie without chicken, right?”

  “Only you could make potpie sound so sexy.” He pulled into a parking space. “Let’s go get some of this creamy deliciousness that made you love meat again.”

  Laughing, I got out of his car and followed Mason toward the entrance, realizing I had been acting like a crazy person. He was just funny and liked to joke around. It was one of the things I liked about him. And I’d never enjoy this if I spent every second overthinking it.

  He reached back and grabbed my hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And it hit me. This was why I was freaking out. We were too comfortable together. I’d known him, like, a week? How did we fall into this place so quickly? But wait, shouldn’t that be a good thing that we clicked and hit it off? Ugh. Where was my brain’s mute button?

  As I stepped inside, Lucy, who stood behind the bakery counter, said, “Hey, Felicity. How you doing, sweetie? Grab any chair you’d like. Who’s your friend?”

  Lucy had this way of stringing together several thoughts without ever giving you a chance to talk. I usually waited until she was done, then answered them all in the same manner.

  “I’m good. Thanks. This is Mason.” I gestured to him. “He’s John’s nephew and is helping out with the charters this summer.”

  Lucy’s smile widened. “How is John? Is his shoulder healing all right? We miss seeing him. Is there anything we can do to help? Tell your aunt April to come by and get him a blackberry pie, on the house. I know it’s his favorite.”

  Poor Mason kept opening his mouth to answer then snapping it shut as she went on. Kind of reminded me of a fish. When she was finally done, Mason promised he’d pass the message on to his aunt, and we sat at a small two-person table near the window.

  I smiled at him and mouthed, “She likes to talk.”

  His eyes widened as if to say, “No joke.” He pulled the menu from the little metal holster atop the table. “So how big is this magical chicken potpie, because I’m starved.”

  I gestured with my hands, and he studied them.

  “I’m going to need more than that. What else is good?”

  “Anything from the bakery is heavenly. The bread is baked fresh daily, and all the sandwiches are delicious.”

  “So will it totally disgust you if I eat red meat?”

  “Like will I be so grossed out I’ll never let your mouth near me again?”

  He leaned back in his chair and slowly dropped down his gaze my body. The table blocked everything from the waist down, but it didn’t matter because he’d stopped at my chest. His eyes snapped back up. “Yeah, that. Will that happen?”

  I shook my head.

  “I was this close”—he pinched his thumb and forefinger together—“to becoming a vegetarian right now. You know that, right?”

  “I had no idea I had that much control over you.”

  He smirked and opened his mouth to say something, but Lucy stepped up right then. “What can I get you two?”

  We ordered our potpies, and Mason added a roast beef sandwich to his meal. We talked a little about his work on the boat, a little more about school and he even shared a few funny stories about Colby and his brothers growing up. But somehow the entire atmosphere between us had become laced with sexual tension. Which wasn’t good. I couldn’t have sex with Mason. Ever.

  Lucy appeared with our food, giving us something to do besides stare at each other and paddle around desire. Of course, once he started in on the roast beef sandwich, all I could think about was how badly I wanted his mouth on me.

  When we were done, Mason leaned back and patted his flat stomach. “That was really good. I didn’t think I liked potpie until you made it sound all…tempting. I’m glad I gave it a try.”

  Though I repeatedly offered to pay for myself, Mason picked up the entire tab. “Third date. Remember?”

  He grabbed my hand, we said ’bye to Lucy and left.

  As we got back to the dock, Mason said, “I think it’s time for you to show me yours.”

  “What?”

  “Your houseboat, whatever you call it.” He pointed. “You’ve seen the inside of mine. I want to see yours. You said you lived here because your house got crowded, but what’s the rest of the story? Whose boat is it? Do they use it for fishing? Are you ever scared living out here by yourself?”

  “Slow down, Lucy, one question at a time,” I teased, tugging his hand to lead him to my boat. “This, as you might have noticed, is the Que Linda. It was my granddad’s boat, and it’s named after my mom, Linda. Que Linda
is also a Spanish expression meaning ‘how pretty.’ ” We both stepped into the back of the boat. “It’s no longer a working boat, but my mom inherited it after my granddad passed. The repairs are too expensive for my parents, but I think my mom hasn’t sold it for sentimental reasons. She practically grew up on this boat. I, on the other hand, know absolutely nothing about them. But it definitely came in handy when I needed a place to stay.”

  I opened the door that led into the cabin. Mason ducked his head and descended the steps. I followed along behind him. “It used to be kind of creepy being alone here at night, but Eddie lives in the apartment above his restaurant. He keeps an eye on me. Sometimes I crash at Isla’s, and I could always go home, but it’s not so bad being out here. Not once you get used to it. It’s quiet, peaceful. I kind of like it.”

  “How long have you been living out here?” He wandered around the small space, taking everything in.

  “A few months.”

  Mason stopped in front of my camera; he lifted a lens then placed it gently back down. “Are you a photographer?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just like taking pictures.”

  “That’s a lot of camera for someone who just likes taking pictures.”

  All the money I’d saved up from my time living at home went into that purchase. Granted, the camera was used, and I’d bought it secondhand along with the lens in a packaged deal from a retiring wedding photographer, but it still cost me a mini-fortune. However, I’d never call myself a photographer. I had no true experience. I just enjoyed experimenting with depth and lighting and, of course, snapping shots of things I found beautiful.

  I shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure it all out.” Which wasn’t a lie. I was halfway through my second reading of the manual and still wasn’t sure how to use all the functions.

  “Do you have any pictures I can see?”

  “Um…” I fiddled with the strap. “Not really.”

  Mason smiled. “Well, if you ever do, I’d love to see them.”

  “I need a better computer to get some good editing software. Plus, I haven’t figured out, you know, everything. And…” I was rambling. No one ever asked me about the pictures I took. They saw me with my head behind a camera but to them a picture was a picture. They never imagined there could be some art behind it. But I saw the beauty, and though I was still trying to figure it all out, my dream was to learn everything I could about photography.

  “What kind of computer do you have?”

  “Huh?”

  “Computer, you said you needed a better one.”

  “Oh.” Had I said that? It was partly an excuse to not show my work but my computer was old and out-of-date. I couldn’t run any decent editing software on it.

  “Um, my parents’ old one.” I pointed to the laptop sitting on the table. “I’m saving up for a new one. The camera kind of depleted my funds.”

  Mason popped it open, and the next thing I knew he was typing away, a fine line between his brow. He made a few sounds, like he’d found something interesting, then finally looked at me. “I can bring this up-to-date for you. It’ll cost a lot less than a new one. I could upgrade the hard drive, increase the RAM.” Words were flying from his mouth that meant nothing to me, but it all sounded very sexy and smart.

  “What do you think?” he asked. “I could get it back to you in a week. I’d normally get it done sooner but with the long hours on the boat”—he shrugged—“I won’t have much time to work on it or find the parts I need.”

  “If you give me a list of parts, I can help you look.”

  “Yeah, we can do that. I may have to order some. Not sure if Port Lucia has a place that would sell—”

  I kissed him. I don’t know if it was the fact he wanted to help me, or the way he sounded so sexy talking computers but I couldn’t help it. My mouth slammed into his. And he didn’t hesitate to accept what I’d offered.

  He pulled me down but quickly realized there was no way we’d both fit tucked on the bench seat with the table wedging into us. So he stood, lifted me off the ground, wrapped my legs around his hips and moved us to the tiny couch directly across from the table. He sat with me straddling him and tugged at the sleeves of my dress. He pulled one side down, and I slipped my arm out, then we repeated the process with the other side. My dress bunched around my waist, and he made quick work of removing my bra. As soon as the fabric was gone, his mouth was on me, like fire. Hot liquid heat. He took my nipple into his mouth and rolled it along his tongue.

  I moaned. “Mason, this is a really bad idea.” And yes, I’d started it, but things had escalated quickly…not that I completely minded.

  “Really? Because I think it seems like a fucking great one.”

  “We can’t have sex.”

  “Another rule?”

  I pulled back and stared at him. “An important one. And one I don’t plan on breaking.”

  “I was kidding. And that’s okay. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to break all your rules. But it doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy yourself, right?” His lips made a path across my chest. His mouth teased while his hand picked up on the other side where his tongue had left off.

  “It’s not right for me to, you know, while you…”

  “Not worried about it.” His breath was hot on my chest, but the air felt cool against the slick skin as he moved his lips to my throat then up my jaw.

  Then our mouths were together again. Colliding. Rough. Raw. Unforgiving. And I couldn’t quite remember how we’d gotten to this point. Again. We’d shared our first kiss only hours ago. How did we keep ending up in this mind-melting, body-writhing, please-don’t-let-it-stop place? But my body told my brain to shut up. Did it matter? Like Mason had said, enjoy it.

  So I did, and as I felt Mason straining against his jeans, I enjoyed that too. I rubbed my body up and down the full length of him, but when he moaned and said my name, it drew me back to the reality of the situation. It was so incredibly crappy to get off—twice, at that—while he got nothing. I had to stop. Or help him out.

  Just because we weren’t having sex, didn’t mean he couldn’t benefit from this, as well. I reached my hand between us and tugged at the zipper. Mason squeezed his eyelids shut, then with what seemed like some reluctance, moved my hand away.

  When I tried to move my hand back, he said, “Hey, we have to save something for dates four and five, don’t you think?”

  “We can’t keep doing this if you won’t let me do what I want to do too.”

  He kissed my neck as his hand ran down my throat and over my chest. “So are you saying stop, then?”

  If he thought I wanted to stop, then that must mean…“Are you saying I can’t touch you too?” Hopefully, Mason had missed the slight waver in my voice, but thinking straight was hard enough. Making sensible words come out of my mouth, even harder.

  “Not tonight.” His head dipped as he ran his tongue between my breasts then made his way to one side. “But what does it matter? If I don’t mind, then you shouldn’t either.” He then placed the most wickedly delicious openmouthed kiss on me, his tongue flicking across my taut skin, causing heat to shoot south. Damn him.

  “It’s not fair to you,” I murmured, my argument losing steam by the second.

  “I’m enjoying this. Aren’t you? Stop worrying.”

  I groaned and pressed my hips into him. Annoyed by my own weak will, surrendering to him. “By the time you finally let me into your pants, I’m going to owe you like a million hand jobs,” I grumbled.

  “While that should be a debt I look forward to you paying, it actually sounds kind of painful.”

  I laughed and shoved his shoulders. “Mason, I’m serious. This is not how we are going to be.” I motioned between us. “It makes me feel incredibly selfish, and I don’t like that. Not at all.”

  “Two things. Anytime you don’t like what’s going on, you say stop and we’re done. Secondly, you aren’t selfish.” He ran his hands down my face and tucke
d my hair behind my shoulders. His fingers glided over my collarbone and down my arms. “But did it ever occur to you that maybe I’m being the selfish one? Maybe this is what I want to do?”

  Had I been with too many Summer Boys who wanted to be sure they got more out of the deal than me? Maybe relationships could be more give than take. Maybe I needed to shut up and let go. Or maybe this was a sign we were moving way too fast, and we needed to back up before we did something we both regretted.

  I leaned forward, pressed my forehead to Mason’s then kissed him. Slowly. Tenderly. As if somehow this kiss could give him back a tiny bit of what he was willing to give me. I ran my hand through his hair and down his jaw. I sighed against his mouth and whispered, “Stop.”

  Mason dropped his head back and smiled.

  “Like you said, we have to save something for dates four and five.” I pulled my bra back on and slipped my arms back into my dress. Then I stood from his lap and let it fall back into place.

  Mason rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, adjusted his jeans then stood. “For the record, this was the best third date I’ve ever had.” He kissed the top of my head.

  I looked up at him and smiled, deciding this could be fun, and I needed to stop constantly freaking out. So I joked, “Me too. It’s hard to believe we’ll be divorced in twenty years.”

  He grinned and started walking toward the stairs leading out of the cabin. “Hey, you think we can manage a million hand jobs in twenty years?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the math genius.”

  He pretended to think. “Quite honestly, I don’t like those numbers. We should probably get started ASAP.”

  I shrugged. “Hey, I tried.”

  “We’ll double up the next time around.”

  I gave him a little shove out the door. “Good night, Mason.”

  “ ’Night, Felicity.” He stepped onto the stern and called back, “Oh, and I’ll get your computer from you tomorrow. So you probably want to delete all that porn tonight.”

  “Is it cool if I leave all the nude selfies though?”