“Mason?” she asked quietly, a mischievous smile curling her lips.
“Yes?”
“Will you tell me a story?”
She felt his laughter before she heard it, and she, too, began to chuckle. Her question hearkened back to her first nights in D..C, when she was newly arrived from Hack’s Crossing. Until a dormitory had been made available to her at the university, Lou had stayed with Mason in his Adams Morgan apartment, and for her first week there had been plagued by nightmares of everything that had happened with her family. Mason had started telling her a wildly altered bedtime story every night to distract her from her troubles, tales of fantastic characters who ended up in the most bizarre situations. Invariably, her dreams afterward had been equally silly, and eventually her nightmares vanished. Considering their current situation, one of Mason’s fractured fables would be welcome.
“Okay,” he said. “Which one do you want to hear? ‘Little Red Riding Hoodlum’? ‘The Three Barristers’? ‘Handful and Grateful’? What?”
Lou began to laugh again at the memory of the stories. “No, none of those. How about Rip Van Bullwinkle, the moose who slept for a hundred years.”
Mason smiled. “That always was your favorite, wasn’t it?”
Lou nodded.
“Okay, okay. Lie still and close your eyes, and I’ll tell you all about Rip Van Bullwinkle.”
Lou did as he instructed, loving the deep timbre of his voice as Mason began to tell the story. Gradually, his words became quieter, seeming to come from very far away. As she began to drift off, she thought she felt his fingers at her temple, brushing back her bangs and smoothing gently over her hair. Then, just before sleep claimed her, she wasn’t positive, but she could have sworn he leaned down and placed a warm, lingering kiss on her cheek.
Chapter Six
Mason wasn’t sure what awakened him in the middle of the night. He only noticed, as he struggled into consciousness, he was snuggled up against the warmest, curviest, most luscious female body he had ever encountered, and that his hand was curled just below a very tempting breast. Instinctively, he pulled the body closer, inhaling deeply the feminine scent of her that was mingled with the smoky fragrance of a campfire and the earthy aroma of the great outdoors. She responded by pushing herself even more intimately against his agitated midsection, and he sighed with satisfaction.
But as awareness gradually overcame him, he remembered he hadn’t gone out with a woman last night or done anything else that might lead to such a, ah, satisfying awakening. Instead, he had told a harmless bedtime story to Lou and had then fallen asleep on the ground a good two feet away from her. Between then and now, though, he recalled there had been a number of—very erotic—dreams in which Lou had played a feature role. Waking up to discover those fantasies were turning into reality was, to say the least, a bit troubling.
But for some reason, Mason didn’t scoot away from her as his brain dictated he do. Lou was still fast asleep, and when he remembered why the two of them had had to spend the night in the jungle, he told himself his reasons for not moving was because he didn’t want to wake her when she so desperately needed sleep. So he lay quietly behind her, with one arm pillowing her head and the other draped protectively over her rib cage. If it took hours for her to wake up, he thought as he felt the gentle pulse of her heartbeat beneath his palm, well, he’d just have to be patient, wouldn’t he?
He remembered how she had looked in the firelight last night with her head resting in his lap. Sleeping so soundly, she had been oblivious to everything around her, including him. The amber-and-orange light from the flames had danced like sparklers in her pale brown hair, and the soft glow had made her face luminous, as if releasing the inner warmth he knew was inside her. It had just felt right somehow to lean down and brush his lips over her cheek. There was something about Lou that warmed anyone she met. It was why the stories she wrote for the paper were so human and why they so captured the essence of anyone or anything she was investigating. She inspired trust in others and could ease through the walls of resistance people built around themselves before they even realized what she was trying to do. It was only one of the qualities that would make her a top-notch journalist. With her intelligence, intuition, and instinct, she was going to go straight to the top of her profession.
He had seen it in the way she interviewed the residents of every tiny community they visited. She never condescended to anyone, just treated each person she interviewed as she expected others to treat her—with respect. And her French had evidently been flawless, because no one had had trouble understanding her, nor had she had trouble understanding her subjects. And as he’d looked over her shoulder at the notes she was scribbling in English, he’d realized she was asking the same questions he would have asked himself. She had told him more than once she was a newshound. Here in Sonora, he’d seen that was true.
Why hadn’t he seen all that before now? he wondered. Why hadn’t he been able to admit to himself before now that Lou had everything it took to be a success? More important than that, why hadn’t he been able to admit it to Lou? What was it she had accused him of being before they left for Sonora? Oh, yeah. She had reminded him that he wasn’t her brother or keeper. Had that been what he was acting like all this time? he wondered. Her brother?
When he thought about it now, he supposed Lou might have a point. He’d always felt responsible for bringing her into the investigation of the drug smuggling in Hack’s Crossing, even though she’d been the one who alerted him to the story. And he’d felt responsible for the fact that her family had been taken away from her, even though the Lofton clan had chosen the wrong path all by themselves. After they’d all been convicted to prison without hope of a future on the outside, he’d seen Lou standing all alone in the courtroom with no one to turn to, and his heart had just kind of…broken for her. It had been an unsettling reaction. His heart had never gone out to anyone before, except where his kid sister was concerned. Instinctively, he’d taken Lou under his wing and provided for her because he’d felt it was the least he could do.
But now she was able to stand on her own. That didn’t mean she no longer needed his help, Mason hurried to assure himself. It was still a jungle out there—literally at the moment, he thought as he surveyed their surroundings once again. And she was still pretty naive where a lot things were concerned. Just as Lou inspired trust in others, she offered her own trust too readily. Her friendship with Albert Michaud and her conviction that Marco Papitou was a prince of a guy were perfect examples of that. There was no way Mason was going to turn her loose into the world just yet, not when there was still so much she had to learn. Though, naturally, he couldn’t help thinking, he might just the guy to teach her.
A rustle in the bushes beyond the Jeep caught his attention, and he turned his head in that direction to hear more. No sound followed it, though, so Mason decided it was probably some harmless little animal like a monkey or something. Or maybe a snake. Or one of those weird poisonous rodents one of the bellhops at the hotel had warned him about.
“Lou,” he whispered softly, still trying to ignore the warmth and softness of her body pressed against his. “Wake up.”
“Mmm,” was all she murmured in reply.
“Lou,” he said a little more loudly, giving her a gentle shake that only rubbed her body more intimately against his. He stifled another groan.
“Mason?” she asked on a long sigh, obviously still not awake.
To his dismay, she turned in her sleep to face him, but remained snuggled close. The feel of her back pressed against him had been too troubling for Mason to think too much about. The feel of Lou’s front, however, was too tempting to ignore. As she pressed her face into the curve of his neck, she curled her hand softly over his shoulder. Before Mason realized what was happening, she was skimming her lips softly across the bare skin at the opening of his collar, and any thoughts he may have entertained about moving her evaporated. For long moments, he only closed h
is eyes and fought off the sensations that wanted to overtake him. And he nearly succeeded…until Lou’s other hand went exploring along the length of his rib cage.
“Mason,” she said again, his name coming out as a half sigh.
“Lou,” he repeated with a little more fortitude. “You have to wake up now, sweetheart. We need to get into the Jeep.”
At the sound of the odd endearment in Mason’s voice, Lou slowly began to emerge from the dream she’d been having about making love with him. She wasn’t alarmed by the content of the dream, since dreams like that were common. But when she came fully awake to realize she wasn’t dreaming at all? That was kind of alarming. Especially when she realized she was dipping one hand beneath his collar and running the other along the buckle of his belt. In her panic, she rolled away from him, onto her back. But she forgot to let go of him when she did, so brought him down on top of her. His solid chest pushed in on her like a heavy weight as his hard thigh landed between her legs and pressed into that most intimate part of her. And when she realized Mason was doing nothing to move away from her and was towering over her, gazing down at her, his breathing as erratic and ragged as her own, all she could do was stare.
He was just so sexy. In the faint final embers of the fire, she could barely see him. Despite the cool air, his body on hers was hot, his chest pressing hard against hers with each ragged breath he took. A strand of pale blond hair fell over his eye, and, without thinking, Lou smoothed it back from his forehead. When her fingers lingered in his hair, threading through the soft tresses to cup the warm skin of his nape, Mason closed his eyes and breathed harder still.
Lou’s fingers in his hair was just about the sweetest thing Mason had ever felt. It was also his undoing. When he opened his eyes again, it was to see Lou gazing at him with such flagrant desire that he couldn’t have resisted her if he had wanted to. And deep down, he knew resisting Lou was the last thing he wanted. Only a few inches separated their mouths. Bit by bit, that distance shrank, until only a breath of air prevented their lips from joining. Her breasts were pressed against his chest and the heat between her legs seeped into his thigh. Unable to help himself, he moved his leg against her then smiled when she closed her eyes and moaned low. He thrust one hand against her hip and dragged it up her body until he reached her rib cage, then pressed his palm against the side of her breast, loving the way her breath caught in her throat when he did. He curved his other hand possessively over her hip, jerking her harder against his thigh, bringing another gasp from deep inside her.
Only then did he kiss her, and only with the lightest, briefest, most teasing of kisses. When Lou sought to deepen it, lifting her head to bring him closer, Mason nuzzled her jaw and pulled away. When she dropped her head back again, he took advantage of her position by tasting the damp skin of her throat, a gesture that made Lou go limp. Then he touched her lips softly with his own again, darting his tongue against the corners of her mouth before tracing her lower lip and burying his head in her neck again.
Lou was on fire. Mason dipped a hand beneath her to cup her bottom and squeeze, bringing her again into hard contact with his thigh, coaxing her to take a wild ride. The fingers making maddening circles along the side of her ribs began to move inward until she felt them brushing gently over the lower swell of her breast. Then he was thumbing her nipple, over and over again, then covering her breast completely and possessively. All the while he kissed her, soft butterfly kisses along her mouth and jaw and throat that set off little explosions everywhere he touched. Finally, he covered her mouth well and truly with his, she pulled his head lower, to draw him deeper inside.
The sensations that rocked her then were staggering. The reality of finally joining with Mason this way was so much more arousing than dreams could ever be. She tangled her fingers more insistently in his hair, trying to pull him closer still, senseless to the fact that they were already as close as two fully clothed people could be. As the kisses deepened, she let her hands wander over the expanse of his hard back, skimming her fingertips over every bump of muscle she encountered. When her hands found the waistband of his trousers, she pushed them lower, cupping them hard over his lean, muscular buttocks.
By now Mason was prone atop her, the hard heat of him settled intimately against the softer heat between her legs. Acting purely on instinct, she hooked her legs over his at the knees and lunged up against him. As he thrust his tongue into her mouth, their hips bucked together, again and again. Their mouths and bodies mimicked the act of lovemaking despite the barrier of clothing that made consummation impossible.
And then, suddenly, Mason stopped. He tore his mouth from hers and planted his hands on the ground on each side of her head. Then he lifted himself from her and rolled away. Or, at least, tried to. But she still had her legs wound possessively around his. Sheepishly, she released him to allow his escape, and immediately, he stood and took three giant steps away from her, running his hands furiously through his hair as he kept his back turned.
Lou sat up quickly, pulling her knees to her chest, wincing at how sensitive her breasts had become during their embrace. Her heart still rattled behind her rib cage, and she inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady it. For long moments, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. Mason gazed off into the blackness, and Lou watched him do it. The darkness around them was filled with night noises—crickets chirping, birds crying out, the wind ruffling the leaves of the trees—but neither she nor Mason made a sound. Above them, the moon was masked by wisps of clouds, as if it were trying to hide. Lou wished she could, too. She didn’t understand how they had become so entwined or why Mason put an end to it so quickly. And as much as she had welcomed and enjoyed it, she would give anything if they could go back to the way things were before. At least then Mason had spoken to her. At least then he had looked at her.
“Mason?” she finally called out softly, her voice sounding small and uncertain, even to her own ears.
He lifted a hand to prevent anything else she might want to say, but didn’t turn around to reply.
Lou hugged her legs more tightly against her and shivered, telling herself it was a result of the cool night breeze and not because of the cold shoulder Mason had turned to her. Just when she thought he would never acknowledge her again, he slowly pivoted and began to retrace his steps toward the remnants of the fire, where he picked up a stick and stirred the embers, then added a few more branches of dry wood to bring the flames flickering back to life. Still he said nothing, though, and still he refused to look at her. But when he saw the striped blanket lying on the ground beside her, he moved to pick it up and drape it over her shoulders. Finally he did look at her but only briefly. Then he looked away again.
“That…that shouldn’t have happened,” he told her quietly.
“Mason—” she began.
“No, let me finish. We had kind of a rough day, and the fact that we were forced to spend the night in the wilderness this way, with no one but each other to rely on… It may have made tensions run a little high. We’ve barely gotten any sleep, and with our senses on high alert… Well, everything just got a little blown out of proportion.”
He looked at her again but once more couldn’t maintain eye contact and quickly glanced away. “It’s understandable, really—not that I’m trying to justify it—that we turned to each other the way we did. It was a perfectly natural response under the circumstances. But that doesn’t mean it meant anything, Lou,” he added emphatically. Just… you know. Thank God it didn’t go any further.”
Lou stared at him for a long time without speaking. Didn’t mean anything? she repeated to herself. Didn’t mean anything? Maybe to Mason what they just shared was the result of some aberrant, survivalist response, but to Lou, it had been the near fulfillment of a dream. She loved Mason. She wanted Mason. She wished more than anything that things had gone further, as far as they could go. But evidently to him, it could be explained away as “one of those things,” and forgotten.
&nb
sp; She didn’t know what to say. She’d never been in a situation like this before. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so much she needed for him to understand. That she wanted him. That she loved him. But no way was this the right time for that. Not when he didn’t want to talk about it. Not when he didn’t want or love her. At least not the way she wanted and loved him.
So Lou said nothing. Instead, she stretched out on the ground again in the position she’d been in before and tried to fall asleep. When Mason called softly out to her several minutes later, she pretended not to hear him, and when she felt him lift her into his arms to carry her toward the Jeep, she somehow managed to maintain the charade. But when he settled her across the back seat with such exquisite care and gentleness, she couldn’t prevent the tremble that shimmied through her. His response was to draw the blanket up to her chin and tuck it carefully around her. Then, once more, Lou felt the brush of his lips across her cheek. This time when Mason moved away, she only hoped he didn’t see the tears that replaced his soft caress.
****
When Mason awoke again it was in the front seat of the Jeep and with the speed of instant awareness. The first thing he noticed was a blazing sun hanging well above the trees in a cloudless blue sky, something that brought the temperature up with it to soak the front of his shirt. The second thing he noticed was the barrel of a rifle nestled with cold, lethal assurance against his throat. From the corner of his eye, he followed the length of dark gray metal until it ended in a set of blunt fingers that gripped the trigger. Beyond them was an arm covered by muddy, olive-drab cotton, attached to a dark-haired man who looked anything but happy.
Not one to be put off by the seemingly unfriendly customs of other nations, Mason smiled, raised his arms in the internationally recognized body language for Please don’t shoot me, and greeted the newcomer, “Ah, buenos dias. ¿Que paso?”
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 9