“Yes.” I shouted the word, cupping my hands around my mouth. “That’s why I brought Meghan.” I pointed to the other side of the room. “I think we’re going to try to find a table.”
Mason followed my gesture and nodded. “If you can’t find an empty one, tell one of the wait staff. They’ll set something up for you.” He glanced at the crowd. “I’ll try to come over and see you in a little bit.”
I shook my head. “You work. I’ll be fine.” I summoned up my bravery and blew him a kiss. He raised one eyebrow and shot me the smolder.
Oh, Lord. I was a goner.
Meghan and I pushed and shoved our way through to the other side of the room. I didn’t know how Mason did it, but as soon as we got to the edge of the dance floor, which was surrounded by round tables of various sizes, a girl in a wait staff uniform tapped me on the arm.
“Are you Rilla?”
When I nodded, she motioned. “Hi, I’m Andrea. Come this way. We have a table for you.”
I glanced at Meghan who waggled her brows at me as we followed the waitress to a table for two, right off the dance floor. When we were seated, Andrea leaned over to speak to us again.
“Mason says you should stay here so you don’t lose the table. And I should get you whatever you want to drink. What’ll it be?”
Meghan grinned. “I’m designated driver, so I’ll have one beer and then switch to ice tea. Tell Mason the stout he made me try last week, okay?”
Andrea nodded and looked at me. I shook my head and shrugged helplessly, looking at Meghan. My friend laughed.
“Bring Rilla a margarita. Tell her husband to go easy on the tequila.”
When Andrea had vanished into the crowd, Meghan leaned to speak to me. “You’ll like that. It’s light and refreshing.”
I nibbled on the edge of my thumb. “Meghan, I’ve never had anything alcoholic. Will I get drunk?”
She smirked. “Not on just one, sweetie. And not if you drink it slow.”
I shifted in my chair to see the dance floor. I’d expected writhing bodies, not unlike the woodcarving depicting Hell that I’d seen in one of my father’s books. But this was nothing like that. There were couples of all ages dancing to the slow song. I smiled as a woman with snow white hair gazed up into the eyes of her partner. What shone on her face was the same thing I’d seen between Meghan and Sam, and Ali and Flynn. And heck, I’d even seen it between Alex and his boyfriend Cal, though I was still trying to work out exactly how I felt about that relationship.
Andrea returned with our drinks and a red card on a long silver stand. Black letters on the paper spelled out VIP Reserved.
“Mason says to leave this on your table, so you can get up to dance if you want.”
I smiled my thanks as the waitress hurried off again. Meghan lifted her bottle in my direction, and I raised my glass. It was filled a pretty yellow-green liquid, rimmed with salt and topped with a lime.
“To the idiocy and adorableness of the men we love. Cheers!” We clinked, and while Meghan tipped back the bottle, I took a cautious sip of my drink.
It was good. A little sour, but not so much that I didn’t like it. I took a longer drink.
“Remember what I said. Take it slow.” Meghan put her hand on my arm, and I set down the glass. The coolness of the liquid trickled down my throat, and I waited to feel drunk. When nothing happened right away, I began to relax.
The music changed from a ballad to something faster that had the crowd roaring.
“Ooooh, I love this one! Let’s dance.” Meghan grabbed my hand. I would’ve protested, but she was already dragging me out onto the dance floor and begun moving in time with the music.
For the space of several heartbeats, I panicked. Self-conscious doubt attacked me. I couldn’t dance, not in front of people. Not where everyone could see.
Meghan took both my hands in hers and pulled me a little closer. “It’s okay, Rilla. Everyone’s here to have fun. No one’s going to judge you. C’mon. This song is so much fun.” She started to dance, keeping hold of my hands as she turned and twisted, and slowly, the panic dissolved. I even managed to smile as I tried to follow her lead, laughing when we ended up stepping on each other or on other dancers.
Within a few minutes, the music had seeped under my last bit of doubt, and I was dancing as though I’d been born on the dance floor. The music was bright and upbeat, and I loved how happy everyone seemed. Some sang along, others just danced, but they were all having a good time. This didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like sin.
After five or six fast songs, the DJ announced he was slowing us down for the next number. Meghan pointed back to the table, and I nodded. I was hot and thirsty, more than ready to enjoy a little more of my margarita.
Before I made it back to our seats, a tall, thin guy in a black cowboy hat stepped in front of me. He smiled down into my face and laid his hand on my bare arm. I frowned.
He bent over to speak into my ear. “Hey. Want to dance?”
I opened my mouth to say no. I didn’t want to dance with anyone but Mason, and I knew he was too busy. I hesitated, only because I wasn’t sure how to turn down the cowboy without being rude.
“Um, actually, I was just going back to my table with my friend.” I fanned my hand in front of my face and forced a laugh. “Dancing’s hot work.”
“Yeah.” He let his gaze slide down my body. I’d caught Mason doing this to me often, and it always made me feel beautiful, but this time, with this man ... I felt ashamed. I wanted to cross my arms over my chest and tug down the skirt of my dress so that it covered more of my legs.
“Excuse me.” A warm, familiar hand closed over my hip and pulled me back against a hard body. “I’m going to dance with my wife.”
The cowboy’s eyes widened, and he backed up, holding his hands before him. “Aw, no problem here, man. Mason. Sorry, I didn’t know. Didn’t know she was yours.” He melted back into the crowd.
I lifted my head to look up at Mason. “Thanks for the rescue. I was doing okay, though. I just didn’t want to be rude to him.”
“Sometimes with guys like that, rude is all they understand.” Mason growled the words into my ear, and I shivered. The hand on my hip moved, rubbing gently over the soft material of my dress, while his other hand drew a line down the goose-bumped skin on my arm.
“As long as I’m out here, will you dance with me?” He touched his lips to a spot just below my earlobe.
I turned in his arms to face him. “I’ve never slow danced before, Mason.”
He smiled down, bringing his hands to cup my face. “There’s nothing to it, darlin.’ All you have to do is let me hold you, and follow my lead. Trust me?”
I let my lips curve upwards. “Well, you haven’t steered me wrong yet. I guess I’ll give it a try.”
Mason skimmed his fingers down my arms to grip my wrists and bring my hands to the back of his neck. He linked his hands together at my lower back, pulling so close that I could feel every inch of his body.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, Rilla, but you look gorgeous tonight. I was watching you dance out here with Meghan. You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
I bowed my head into his chest, happy that I’d let Meghan talk me into the heels I was wearing. They brought me up so that my head at least reached Mason’s chin.
The music surrounded us, singing soft and gentle words about staying forever, and swaying on the dance floor, with Mason’s arms tight around me, staying forever sounded like a mighty fine idea.
Meghan left The Road Block around eleven-thirty. Sam was on his way home, and she wanted to be there when he arrived. I planned to leave with her, but when I told Mason I was going, he took my hand.
“Why don’t you stay just a little bit? I’m not too far from wrapping up here. Darcy’s going to cover closing for me, and the crowd’s thinned out quite a bit.” It was true; the room was not nearly as full now as it had been even an hour ago. “You can ride home with me. I
s Jenna okay staying a little longer?”
I nodded and held up my cell phone. “I texted her a few minutes ago. Piper’s in bed, and Jenna said not to rush.”
“There you go then.” Mason had come out from behind the bar and was leaning against it. He winked at Meghan and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for bringing my girl over. I’m glad you two had fun.”
“Hey, any time I get treated like a VIP at a dance club, I have no complaints.” Meghan laughed. “It’s good to have friends in high places.”
“You’re always a VIP in my book.” Mason patted her back. “Tell that man of yours he better get his ass in here for a beer soon. I haven’t seen him in too long.”
“That’s ‘cause he’s got something good at home.” Meghan grinned. “But we’ll try to stop in on one of your slower nights.” She turned and hugged me. “Night, Rilla. See you this week.”
I boosted myself up on a barstool and settled down to watch Mason work. He and Darcy were huddled in a far corner of the bar, discussing the schedule. Next to me, two women who looked to be a couple of years older than me made themselves at home, leaning on the bar. The taller of the two wore a shirt so tight and low-cut that I could see most of her breasts. It made me very uncomfortable, and I looked away.
“Is that him? The hot bartender?” The shorter woman spoke in a low voice. “God, he’s yummy. I’d let him do me.”
“You know it. Seven ways to Sunday.” Tall and low-cut sighed. “Wonder if we can get his attention.” She straightened a little. “Hey! Bartender!”
Mason looked up from the form he’d been showing Darcy. He gave the two women a barely-there glance before returning to his conversation.
“Well, hell. Why’s he so stand-offish?” The short woman pouted.
I wanted to be anywhere but here, listening to these two women talking about Mason. I was torn between keeping my mouth shut and saying something. I didn’t want to embarrass them or me. Then again, I’d want to know if I were making a fool of myself over some man while his wife sat next to me.
“Excuse me.” I kept my tone pleasant. “Were you trying to get my husband’s attention? Did you need a drink?”
Both of their faces went utterly blank. Short girl’s mouth dropped open.
Before they could answer me, Mason finished what he was doing and ambled down the bar to me. I smiled up at him.
“Mason, I think these two ladies were hoping to get something to drink.” I hesitated just the slightest bit over the word “ladies.” He raised one eyebrow and grinned.
“Sorry about that ... ladies. I was just wrapping things up so I can take my wife home, but I’m sure Darcy can help you with a drink order.” He came around to my side of the bar and lifted me from the barstool, letting his hands linger on my ribs just a little longer than necessary. “You ready to go home, Rilla?”
We both called good night to Darcy as we left. I held it together until we cleared the doors, but once we were outside, I couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry, Mason. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut, but they were just being so ...” I shuddered. “So crass in how they talked about you. Why do women do that?”
Mason shrugged. “Too many reasons to think about tonight. Don’t worry about it, darlin.’ I’ve been fending off women since I was sixteen years old. But I do appreciate you taking up for me.”
“Hmmm.” I let him take my hand and lead me around the side of the building toward the back. His truck was parked in a dark section, away from the other cars.
“You know what I was thinking inside, Rilla?” Mason brought our joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my fingers. “I was thinking that I’ve shown you my sofa moves so far. But you haven’t seen my car moves yet.”
“Car moves?” I stood to the side as he unlocked the passenger door of the truck.
“Yup. Well, in this case, they’re truck moves. But same principle.” He opened my door and offered his hand again. “May I help you in?”
I glanced at him. Mason always helped me into the truck. I wondered why he would be asking about it now. “Why, certainly you may, kind sir.” I placed my hand in his and took a step toward the seat. Before I could raise my foot to the running board, Mason tugged my hand, bringing me flush against him. He blocked me in, so that my back was against the side of the seat and he covered my front. Slowly, he released my hand, rubbing up my arm to hold my face and lowering his mouth to mine.
His kiss was soft but insistent, and it made my heart skip a beat. His fingers spread out to cover my cheek, and his tongue urged my lips open. When I parted them, he made one thorough stroke within my mouth and sucked on my bottom lip.
While I was preoccupied with the magic his mouth was working, he brought his hands down to cup my backside, rubbing me there for a few seconds before he gripped me and lifted. I landed on the seat, with Mason standing between my legs.
“Those are some moves, mister.” I took advantage of my rare height advantage to comb my fingers through his soft brown hair. “I’m impressed.”
“Oh, baby, you haven’t even begun to be impressed yet.” He moved back, helping me swing my legs around to face front, and then shut my door behind me.
I was just reaching for my seatbelt when Mason slammed his own door. “Uh, uh, uh. Not yet.” He crooked his finger at me. “Come here.”
I turned my body to face him, hesitating. “Come where?”
Mason smirked, and I had a feeling I was missing a joke. “Crawl over here onto my lap.”
I remembered driving home from our wedding, wanting to do just that but not understand why or how. I eased my skirt up a little higher so it wouldn’t catch and rose up on my knees. Mason held my hips.
“Swing that leg over me. So we’re facing each other. Good.”
And then I was sitting on his lap, my back to the steering wheel and my front ... well, it was touching Mason Wallace in some very intimate places. Between his legs, for example, where a hard ridge rubbed against the forbidden place between my legs. And the tips of my breasts were pressed into his chest.
“Don’t get tense, Rilla. Trust me.” Mason circled his hands around to knead my butt again before he ran them up my back, to the spot where the sleeves of my dress rested on my shoulders. Watching my face, he lowered the straps down my arms, baring my bra to his sight.
I’d known this was coming. I was sheltered, yes, but I’d also grown up with a pragmatic grandmother, who’d decided the human reproductive chapter in our homeschool science course wasn’t thorough enough. She’d taught the rudiments of what went on between a man and a woman.
Plus I’d seen Mason staring at my breasts enough that I figured he was going to get around to wanting a better look sooner rather than later. I’d just never guessed it would be in the front seat of his pickup truck.
He skimmed his fingers over my ribs first, with each pass drawing closer and closer to the edge of my bra. Finally he palmed both breasts, exhaling a shaky breath when he did.
“You’re beautiful, Rilla. Beautiful and perfect.” He moved his thumbs so that they brushed over my nipples, and a shot fire erupted low within me. I heard a small, almost desperate sound and realized it was coming out of my own throat.
That noise seemed to unleash something in Mason. He half-growled, half-moaned and curled his fingers under the cup of my bra, pulling down so that I was exposed. Without waiting, he lowered his mouth to capture one aching tip.
I’d seen babies nursing before. For all the modesty enforced at church, mothers were encouraged to breastfeed, since it was the natural way to feed a child. I’d watch women holding conversations, each with a baby attached to a breast, and I’d wondered how they could do it. It looked painful.
But Mason’s mouth on my nipple was anything but painful. It was the most exquisite form of pleasure I’d ever felt. Without thinking about it, I held his head to my breast, my breath coming in soft pants as he suckled and rolled the nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Meanwhile,
his hand played with the other side, drawing it to a hard point.
When he lifted his head, Mason kissed me as he had earlier, hard and with intent. This was not the gentle, tentative touch of his lips. This one meant business. I returned his passion with my own, letting my tongue playing against his, sucking it into my mouth and tangling them together once again.
He broke off from my mouth and lowered his head to draw my other nipple between his lips. I arched my back, trying to give him more, and the movement rubbed the juncture of my legs to the ridge beneath Mason’s fly. A bolt of pure and addictive pleasure made me cry out, and I couldn’t help rocking again when I found that the movement only made me crave more.
“That’s it, darlin.’ Just like that. Does it feel good?” Mason spoke with my nipple still at his lips and the vibration only added to the building intensity. I gasped a terse answer to his question.
“Yes.”
Mason laughed, but I was too intent to pay him any mind. He kept his mouth at my breasts, but he dropped his hands back to my hips, helping me find the rhythm my body needed. I gripped his shoulder, rubbing with more speed, racing toward something I didn’t quite understand.
Mason groaned and bucked his hips up to mine, and the change in position pushed me over the edge of precipice I hadn’t known I’d been climbing. I tensed as waves of ecstasy rolled through me. Between my legs, something pulsed and throbbed, gripping me in pleasure. I fell onto Mason, panting and covered in perspiration.
When I could speak again, I raised my eyes to Mason. “That was what they call a climax, right?” I remembered the word from Gram’s basic teaching.
Mason’s chest shook with laughter. “Oh, honey, I hope so.” He brushed a kiss over my tangled hair. “Because that was most beautiful, erotic thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Was it okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what you wanted. I didn’t know ...” I kept my eyes on the buttons of his shirt. “I thought you could only do that during, you know ... intercourse.”
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