Dream On

by Stacey Keith

  He wanted so badly for this to work. It had to work. And it was tough because his usual Mr. Proactive Guy self wasn’t going to get the job done. No, this situation required patience, listening, maybe even a little intuition. Because he could tell just by the way she clutched her purse in front of her that the whole Dallas thing was a bit overwhelming. Everything he owned was big, splashy and over-the-top.

  This might be his only chance to make her feel at home.

  But when she gazed up at him, every part of him came alive, switches and levers and pulleys all cranking at once. Here in the reception area in front of visitors, secretaries and even a few teammates, he gathered her up and kissed her. There was no hesitation in her touch. Her lips were soft and yielding, which made his desire leap like a wall of flame. She was everything he wanted, everything he’d been looking for, and now she was here.

  “I want to be alone with you,” he whispered.

  She clasped his T-shirt as though the kiss had made her dizzy. “I want to be alone with you, too.”

  “I’m just finishing up. Then I thought we’d go grab something to eat before I take you home and…”

  “And what?”

  “Do unspeakable things to your naked body. But first, I need a shower, so you’ll actually want me to do unspeakable things to your naked body. Be right back.”

  He got her settled in a chair in the lobby and then speed-walked toward the locker rooms. Game plan, Hannigan. Actually, two games—the one that mattered, and the one tomorrow night against the Giants. He knew that Coach Lemery frowned on sexy time before a major game, but Mason found that sex sharpened his focus. He planned on having a lot of it, too. In lots of different positions. But he also planned on winning that game.

  He stuck his head inside the meeting room to ask Coach Lemery a question about a game play. Jasper was studying the playbook with defensive end Brett Fulbright, who was kind of an asshole.

  “I see you managed to get Cassidy to come up for a visit,” Jasper said. “Whaddya do, send her dick pics using someone else’s dick?”

  Brett snorted, but Mason told Jasper, “I tried sending yours but couldn’t find it.”

  “Hey, Hannigan, that’s your girl out there, right?” Brett asked. “Going for some of that horny farm girl action, eh? Bet that cooch tastes sweeter than canned peaches.”

  Mason’s blood pressure shot up a few hundred points. He swung his gaze to Brett.

  “Careful there, buddy,” Jasper warned Brett. “You don’t want to piss him off. Not about this one.” He took Mason by the arm and escorted him to the hallway. “Don’t waste your energy. Brett can’t help running his mouth.”

  Mason felt his own muscles straining against the skin. “I’d like to run his mouth into the goddamn ground.”

  Jasper grinned. “Look at you, all manly and shit. Nah, fuck it. Save it for the game.”

  Together, they walked to the locker room, Jasper complaining how the new helmets prevented him from hearing the plays and Mason trying hard to cool down. Goddamn Fulbright. That guy was such a turd. Then Mason reminded himself that Cassidy was here, and if he got his jock in a wad, she’d be the first to know. Chill.

  “You haven’t heard a goddamn word I said,” Jasper told him while they were getting dressed after showering. “Might as well be talking to myself.”

  Mason splashed a little of his best cologne on the back of his neck. “I heard you. They postponed your sex change surgery and now you’re pissed off about it.”

  Jasper flipped him the bird. “So where are you taking Cassidy tonight?”

  “Casa de Velas. I think she’ll like it there.”

  “Tex-Mex, always a good choice. I see you’re putting some thought into this. For a change.”

  Mason adjusted the collar on his shirt. His sister Shari always said he didn’t look like a douche in a white dress shirt. He wore it with jeans and his favorite cowboy boots. But his pulse kept jumping because he was nervous, he couldn’t stop smiling because he was going out with Cassidy, and he still wanted to beat the shit out of Fulbright because that guy had it coming.

  “Do I get to say hello to your girl?” Jasper asked. “I ate with her folks, you know. I’m practically family.”

  They headed out to the lobby, stopping to ask Coach Lemery that question about the new pass pattern. Mason looked up and saw Brett Fulbright sitting way too close to Cassidy. He was practically on top of her and she was seated in the next chair.

  Mason’s hands curled into fists. He was going to kill that fucker.

  “Whoa there, big guy,” Jasper said after a quick goodbye to Coach Lemery. “You can’t smash his face in. We need him for the game tomorrow.”

  “Fuck that. I’m putting that asshole on injured reserve.” He strode toward them, still too far to hear what Fulbright was telling her but close enough to see him lean in and Cassidy shrink away. She had her body pressed against the back of her chair.

  This wasn’t how they were starting their romantic evening together. Not with Fulbright practically salivating down her top.

  “That Neanderthal crap never plays well with the ladies,” Jasper warned him. “Think what you’re doing.”

  Deep breath, Mason told himself. Focus on Cassidy. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t smash Brett’s face in.

  “Hey, baby,” he said to Cassidy. “Ready to go?”

  She looked so relieved. Brett raked his gaze over her as she scrambled away, and for just a second Mason locked eyes with the guy and gave him an evil smile.

  “You look beautiful,” Jasper told her. He and Cassidy hugged. “So glad you could make it to Dallas.”

  He slung one arm over Mason’s shoulder, another arm over hers, and hustled them away.

  Once he got them out to the parking lot, Jasper kissed Cassidy goodbye, gave Mason a half-hearted punch to the chest and then ambled back inside.

  Mason smiled. As far as friends went, Jasper didn’t suck.

  “Sorry about Fulbright,” he said, escorting Cassidy to his car. “The guy has a serious personality disorder.”

  She still looked a little rattled. Another woman might have been flattered by Brett’s attentions. But not a true heart like his Cassidy. If she was his. Which he was certainly planning on making her, if he could.

  Now he felt nervous again.

  He popped open the passenger door on his Porsche Spyder. It was his favorite car, so of course he wanted to impress her with it. Her eyes widened when she saw it.

  “This is your car? Wow.”

  He did an inner fist pump, closed the door after her and then got in on the other side. They were alone together. Finally.

  Mason leaned across the seat, slid his fingers into her thick, warm hair and then brought her lips to his.

  The kiss instantly went from sexy to insatiable. It had only been a few days since he’d seen her, but it might as well have been years. His heart began a driving, relentless rhythm. His pants got uncomfortably tight. She smelled delicious, utterly female. Her scent poured into him, filling all the cracks and crevices that had been missing her. He wanted more of it. All of it. She was like a fever he couldn’t get rid of, and when she placed her hand delicately between his legs, he almost jolted right out of his seat.

  “In any parking lot but this one,” he said, imagining teammates or fans finding him and Cassidy half naked in the car. That was a good way to get yourself on the front page of the National Enquirer.

  Flushed and breathless, Cassidy ran her hands over her dress, putting it right again. She gave him a dazed, apologetic smile.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Mason started the engine and put the car in reverse. “I’ve got some things I want to show you.”

  It was tough, focusing on the road when the woman he loved sat beside him. Funny how when Anna rode shotgun, the whole dynamic felt off. But Cassidy looked perfect in t
hat seat, and he could tell she really dug the car, which made him feel great. He pointed out places he’d been or wanted to go, what history he could remember about the downtown area, and then purposely took a detour, going extra slow when they passed a beautiful old building set inside rolling parkland. The sign at the gate read Beckwith Academy.

  “That’s supposed to be one of the best schools in the country for dyslexic kids,” he said offhand. “One of the guys has three kids, all dyslexic. He says they love it.”

  While Cassidy craned her neck to look, Mason gave himself a mental back pat. Agenda? Fuck yeah, he had an agenda. Nobody did footwork like he did footwork. He’d asked damn near everyone he knew if they had a lead on possible schools for Lexie. He hadn’t forgotten the night Cassidy told him that Cuervo just didn’t have the resources to handle kids with learning disabilities. And now, lo and behold, they were in front of Beckwith Academy.

  Score one for the Masonator.

  “It must cost a fortune,” Cassidy said wistfully. “Lexie’s teachers try their best, but with so many kids in a classroom, it just isn’t possible to give Lexie the extra time she needs.”

  He shrugged. “No more expensive than any other private school.”

  “Lexie’s failing social studies,” Cassidy admitted. “I haven’t told anybody that.”

  “Does she hate studying about pilgrims and the exports of Guatemala? Can’t say as I blame her.”

  “No, mostly it’s the reading. It takes her a long time to finish one chapter and by then they’re on to the next.”

  He let the bait dangle on the hook a minute longer and then kept driving. A sweet, happy kid like Lexie needed way more than what Cuervo could provide her. Jasper told him how beat down a dyslexic got by a school system that just wasn’t equipped to provide special services. And hell, Mason hadn’t met a problem yet he couldn’t tackle.

  The sun had set by the time they pulled up to Casa de Velas. Clear glass lanterns with candles in them hung from the trees and lit a path to the restaurant. When Mason stepped out of the car and handed his keys to the valet, the smell of Mexican food made his mouth water. So did seeing Cassidy in the candlelight.

  “What do you think?” he asked her.

  “Oh, Mason, it’s beautiful. Like what I always imagined Mexico must look like. Not that I’ve ever been, of course, but I’ve seen photos.” She took his arm and they walked through a garden of palm trees and then past a fountain tiled mosaic-style in glazed terracotta. Having her next to him, Mason couldn’t remember ever feeling such a sense of contentment.

  The maître d’ took them to their own private balcony that glowed with candles and a fire burning in a chiminea that resembled a squat, adobe gourd. Spotting the silverware glinting on the table, the fancy linen napkins folded to look like swans, Mason made a mental note to thank Ruth for suggesting the place. Then he took off his jacket because with all that heat, he was already sweating.

  Dinner was grade A, which meant he had to take pains not to wolf it. The balcony was private and the waitstaff were instructed to keep it that way, so no one bothered him for autographs.

  “First time I went to Mexico was with my family,” he said. “My dad had way too many shots of tequila and my mom came down with that stomach bug gringos get. So guess who got to drive?”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen. But I’m pretty sure it’s legal over there. How about you? Any family vacation disaster stories?”

  A shadow flitted across Cassidy’s face, so quickly that Mason wasn’t sure he’d actually seen it. “Nothing special,” she said. “I’m usually working, so we don’t really go anywhere.”

  Yet as the evening wore on, other needs reasserted themselves. He could see it in her eyes, the way she played with her hair, how she ran one finger around the rim of her wine glass. The fact that she was just as ready as he was gave him one hell of a rush.

  He paid quickly and they left. On the car ride home, all he could think about was the way she sat with her thighs pressed together, like parting them would lead to all kinds of wickedness. His blood heated at the thought. Now he was driving too fast and there was no guarantee any cops pulling him over were Lone Stars fans.

  In his previous fantasies about showing Cassidy the house, he’d taken his time. Given her a tour. Now he sped up the driveway and floored it into the garage. She didn’t even seem to mind. He herded her into the living room, where the pool was, and then closed the huge double doors.

  Cassidy stood facing him, eyes luminous, lips slightly parted. He walked toward her and his heart thundered so loudly he could hear the roaring in his ears. She was here. She was his.

  Now all he had to do was convince her to stay.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cassidy traced the line of Mason’s chest with her fingers, feeling the pounding rhythm of his heart. Her eyes met his dark intense gaze and somewhere inside her another wall went crashing down. God help her, she loved him, trusted him, and now there was this magnificent house—a house she hadn’t even looked at properly because all her senses were fixed on him. Maybe another man would use those advantages to play the field, but every instinct urged her to open up. How could she stop herself, even if she wanted to?

  He pulled her toward him, and even before his lips descended, she was trembling with need. His kisses were slow, soulful, drugging. They filled her with a shimmery wet heat. He was completely there with her, every cell of their bodies exquisitely attuned, every shift in weight or brush of the fingers registered and responded to. When she plunged her hand inside his shirt and marveled at the smooth hard texture of his skin, those very differences made her pulses surge. He was everything she wasn’t. It made him intoxicating. Maybe her inexperience didn’t matter at this point. Maybe what matters is letting yourself be swept up by this moment, and now the next. Not thinking, just letting the fire roll over you.

  She unfastened her belt and shoes. Mason found the zipper at her back and pulled, melting the dress off her body in one long stroke. She felt his lips on every part of skin he exposed, sending tendrils of hunger and exhilaration curling through her belly. How could skin feel as though shocks and electrical currents were rippling inside it?

  When he freed her breasts and fastened his lips on one nipple, her fingernails sank into his hair. She pulled without meaning to, while Mason licked and nibbled and tugged with his teeth. A fever of longing crashed over her, making her delirious for more. Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his jeans. He dropped his boots on the floor. Her longing grew so intense, she could hardly breathe. Here in his living room with the open ceiling and the overlooks spiraling up, he seemed even bigger and more magnificent. A prince presiding over his kingdom.

  She didn’t know what to do all of a sudden, like there was no place for her shyness or her hands.

  Yet when Mason resumed kissing her, the shyness gradually lessened. Everything between her legs tingled and throbbed and swelled. She ventured to touch his thick, hard length and felt it jerk in response. Her fingers wrapped themselves around him. He let her play for a moment, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling. Then he said in his deep voice, “Come with me.”

  He brought her to the pool and sank into the water ahead of her. The pool was edged in rock and formed a grotto, partially concealed by palms. When she got in, the warm water closed over her breasts and she went instantly weightless. A feeling of erotic possibility stole over her and she longed for things she’d never even imagined before. As he took her in his arms and started kissing her again, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to boldly wrap her legs around him. Only now he was bumping against her and longing oozed thickly through her veins.

  Still kissing, he braced her against a wall. An underwater jet gushed against them, which made a plume of bubbles and a deep rumbling sound. Suddenly, Mason drew back. She saw an idea come into his mind
. He positioned her on the ledge in front of it so the water gushed against her. She went still, caught in the grip of concentrated pleasure. Mason pressed his hard, wet body against hers, and then reached around and teased her open so she could receive the tumbling, churning bubbles more directly. Her head dropped helplessly on his shoulder.

  She couldn’t move. While he murmured how beautiful she was, how much it turned him on to watch her, she felt the pressure coil up inside of her, squeezing tighter and harder, making her fight for her next breath. Yet she stayed in a paralysis of almost-but-not-quite, even when he reached up and pinched and pulled her nipples. Something was missing, something she needed to finally send her over.

  As though he understood, Mason moved her knees farther apart. With one hand, he tilted her pelvis back and then entered her in one smooth stroke. Her back arched, changing the angle of the bubbles. She could feel them surging against her sweet spot, boiling relentlessly. Yet instead of thrusting, Mason held still, letting her feel the fullness of him inside her, until it sent her flying.

  The climax hit all at once, long shuddering contractions that wouldn’t stop. Dimly, she heard him groaning from the effort it took not to move, but he clearly wanted her to have this. One climax became another as she cried out, pinned against him, writhing, until she finally gasped, “No more. I can’t, I can’t.”

  He turned her around then and blazed a trail of heat from her throat to her breasts and back up again. He claimed her mouth and she met him passionately, still trembling from the aftershocks.

  But it wasn’t the orgasms that made her reel. It was him. She would never get enough of him. And the more time they spent together, the deeper and more primitive her cravings.

  “I need you,” she whispered. “I need—”