She approached him from behind as he was removing a box of condoms from his nightstand and slipped her hands around his waist. When she took his erection in her hand and began massaging him, his breath caught in his throat.
She trailed her tongue along the planes of his back, slid her other hand up his belly to his chest and marveled at how amazing he felt.
If it all hadn’t been so damn pleasurable, she might have been able to muster some renewed annoyance that he still wasn’t proving to be the cold fish she’d hoped he would be.
He turned to face her. “A little impatient?”
“You were taking too long,” she said.
“I wasn’t gone for ten seconds.”
“I don’t believe in sitting around waiting for things to happen.” She pushed him backward with the weight of her body, urging him to the bed only a foot away.
“You love to be in control,” he said, standing his ground and grasping her wrists, pinning them at her sides.
“So do you.” She tossed him a look that was pure challenge.
Not only did she love to be in control, she loved a good fight.
“Therein lies our problem,” he whispered, then dipped his head to kiss her.
His kiss was part invitation and part challenge, both coaxing and forceful. Claire let him kiss her for a few moments, then she nipped at his lip with her teeth and pulled away.
“Let go of my wrists,” she said, and he did.
She gave him a good shove, and he fell backward onto the bed. Claire climbed on top of him and pinned his arms at his sides.
Mason laughed. “If you think you can hold me like this, you’re deluded.”
“I think you want me badly enough to put up with whatever I do to you.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself—I could say the same about you,” he said, grinding his erection against her, nearly driving her insane.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, sounding a little more breathless than she would have liked.
He broke free of her hold and toppled her on the bed, pinning her with the weight of his body, holding her wrists the way she’d just been holding his. “Don’t talk about having sex with me like it’s some kind of chore.”
She smirked. “Oh, does that bother you? I’m so sorry.”
“You bother me.”
“I wasn’t bothering you on the dance floor, it seems.”
“Oh hell yes, you were.”
She strained against his hold, but to no avail. And truthfully, it made her even hotter to realize she had no physical control. The only control she might exert was on his mind, and even that would be a challenge given her state of arousal.
“Let go,” she halfheartedly demanded. “I thought your note said no more talking.”
“I’ll shut up when you admit that I gave you the best sex you’ve ever had,” he said with a toying smile she’d never seen him wear before.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You were okay,” she lied. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I like a good argument.”
“I like less talk and more action,” she said.
His hot, hard erection, against her thigh, between her legs, so close to easing her crazy ache, was driving her insane.
He let go of her wrists long enough to put on a condom, then pinned her on the bed again and forced his cock inside her in one delicious thrust.
Claire couldn’t help it—she cried out at the relief of having her most urgent desire satisfied.
Mason gave her a hungry kiss, then asked, “Are you going to be good now?”
She strained against his grip, to no avail, and felt herself grow even more aroused by the loss of control. “Hell no.”
Claire shot him a look of challenge, arching her back and straining against his weight.
His hips, moving between her legs, stilled. “You want me to stop?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Only when you’ve finished what you started.”
“Then we need to set some ground rules. If I let go of your hands, you can’t assault me. No hitting, no scratching, no biting.”
His body, enveloped by hers, was doing little now to bring her the release she wanted more than breath. She tightened her muscles around him, hoping he’d get the message, and he closed his eyes and moaned.
“I can’t make any guarantees I’ll play fair,” she said.
“Then neither can I,” he nearly growled, and began thrusting into her again.
The friction and force of his cock was exactly what she needed, and she simply let go of everything else, savored each forceful, merciless thrust.
They made love like wild animals, angry and passionate, hungry and frantic. Claire realized this was the first time in her life a man had ever truly dared to dominate her.
And she loved it.
At some point, Mason must have let go of her hands, because now she realized she was clinging to him for dear life as he pushed her closer and closer to climax. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, helpless to do anything but lie there and accept him into her, accept his invasion because there was nothing else she wanted more in the world.
And then with all the tension that had built up between them, her release came stronger and harder than she would have imagined possible. She cried out like a wounded animal, though her body felt anything but injured.
Pleasure coursed through her, leaving her weak and limp as Mason found his own release. He moaned into her mouth as he kissed her, embraced her tighter as he spilled into her, possessed her so completely she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began.
Finally, she opened her eyes to see him gasping, his gaze pinned on her as he caught his breath.
Then he placed gentle kisses on her nose and cheeks as he relaxed between her legs. His kisses were so tender, so different from their intense encounter, they caused Claire’s throat to tighten.
She’d never gotten choked up about sex before, and she didn’t intend to let it happen now. She just needed to focus on the facts. This was Mason Walker, a man she could barely stand to be in the same room with when he had his clothes on.
She was not supposed to be emotionally moved by him or the sex they had.
But she couldn’t conjure up any outrage. The feel of Mason’s heat, the weight of his body, obliterated all coherent thought.
He propped his head on one hand and smiled a slow, sexy smile. “Are you cured of me yet?”
Claire couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m not sure…. This may take all night.”
And that, she feared, was a very conservative estimate.
MORNING LIGHT FLOODED the bedroom. Mason yawned and stretched, his body aching from a night that had tested his physical limits.
He’d always considered himself an enthusiastic lover, but hell—with Claire, enthusiasm seemed too tame a word. He had the sore muscles to prove it. Even with his strenuous daily regimen at the gym, he’d still managed to give himself a hard workout last night. At some point during the night they’d ordered room service and eaten a late dinner in bed, but even still, he’d worked up enough of an appetite with her that he was ravenous now.
He sat up in bed and watched Claire as she slept, her red hair spilling over the pillow and her breasts barely concealed by the white sheet that rose and fell with her chest as she breathed. With her eyes closed and her face tranquil in sleep, she looked like a different woman.
Awake, Claire was all fire and sex appeal. Her eyes, her expressions, her body language, all pointed to the hellion she was.
Asleep, she possessed a peaceful quality that she could never exude while awake. She looked vulnerable even—a quality Mason never would have attributed to Claire.
As if she could feel him watching her, her eyes opened. “Morning,” she said, her voice soft.
It was awkward having her here now. He didn’t know what to do with Claire if they weren’t arguing or having sex.
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t snea
k out in the middle of the night.”
Claire rubbed her eyes and smiled a half smile. “Too tired. You wore me out.”
“I think it was the other way around.” And even after all they’d done, the sight of her body outlined under the sheet was enough to make him hard again. He adjusted the sheet on his lap to conceal his body betraying him.
“Don’t feel obligated to engage in any nicey-nice morning chitchat with me. I think we both know the deal.”
Now that was the Claire he knew. And if she wanted to cut to the chase…
“I believe you owe me something now,” Mason said.
Claire rolled over to face him, and a lazy smile spread across her lips. “What could I possibly owe you now?”
“The complete story?”
Her smile disappeared. “What complete story?”
“The rest of the information about the dominatrix-for-hire service.”
“Oh. Right, I forgot about that.”
“Great sex make you forgetful?”
“No one could ever accuse you of being overly modest.”
Mason shrugged. He wasn’t, but that was beside the point. “So have you gotten tired of me yet?”
She cast a suspicious look at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Wasn’t that the whole point of our sleeping together?”
“I thought you were sleeping with me to get information.”
“Stop trying to divert attention from my question.”
“Yes, you’re out of my system, okay? Mission accomplished. Congratulations.”
“You don’t exactly sound thrilled about it.”
“This isn’t my idea of great morning-after pillow talk.”
“You said no nicey-nice chitchat, right?” Mason decided not to point out that it was her idea in the first place that they sleep together this way. He wasn’t so sure the crazy experiment had been even remotely successful for him, but hey—if it got him the information he needed…
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I changed my mind.”
Mason resisted smiling at how easily he could ruffle her feathers. “So tell me, what else do you know about this dominatrix ring?”
Claire sat up in bed and crossed her arms over her glorious breasts, so dewy and lush in the soft light, it was all he could do not to lean over and take them into his mouth. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your damn business. No wonder you’re such a success—you know how to put work first, that’s for sure.”
“I should have known I couldn’t trust you to keep a deal.”
She smiled sweetly. “You’re an asshole.”
“So this is how it goes—we can’t talk for five minutes without getting in an argument? It’s a good thing you’re tired of sleeping with me, already.”
She shot him a look of death. “Yeah, good thing,” she said as she pushed the sheets aside and stood up.
Mason watched her stalk across the room and out the door, presumably in search of her clothes that had been discarded last night in the living room. Her perfect backside, smooth and lush, beckoned him to follow her. As infuriating as she could be, he felt a loss at her absence from his bed.
Last night had been nothing short of incredible. Explosive, amazing, earth-shattering… Overblown adjectives couldn’t express how moved he’d been—and still was. Part of him wanted Claire to leave just so he could have the time to examine how he felt, try to explain away the emotion that had welled up in his chest.
And part of him wanted to forget about it, forget her, forget last night. Move on.
But his business side wanted to stalk into the living room after her and demand she tell him what she knew. Which probably wasn’t anything he couldn’t find out on his own. Still, a deal was a deal.
He got out of bed, grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet and tugged them on.
“Claire, you’re not leaving until you tell me what you know.”
She was tugging on her dress. “Fine. Maybe I should call a few travel magazines and let them know what’s going on here, too.”
She was bluffing. He hoped.
“Go ahead. All they’ll find is me stopping this thing before it’s had a chance to get started.”
She jammed her feet into a pair of sexy heels, and Mason found himself momentarily distracted by the sight of her struggling to get the straps of her shoes around her ankles. He forced his brain back into gear.
“Fine, you want to know the rest? That muscle-bound blond bartender at the Cabana Club is involved in it. That’s all I know,” she said, then turned and headed for the door.
Mike D’Amato? Mason tried to wrap his brain around the possibility. Anything was possible, he’d learned, and even people he considered trustworthy could be snakes in the grass.
“Claire, wait.”
“Bye, Mason. Nice knowing you,” she said as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “Last night was loads of fun,” she said in a voice meant to convince him it was anything but.
Mason watched as she closed the door, unable to utter a word or make a move. Why he’d frozen in place, he had no idea. One thing was sure though—Claire leaving was the best thing that could happen to him.
Really, it was.
So he couldn’t figure out why her closing the door had felt like a punch in the gut.
6
CLAIRE TURNED ON the water in the shower, then started undressing as she played and replayed the events of the night and morning in her mind.
What the hell was she doing? Here she was at Mason’s new resort in the Caribbean, having just spent what was possibly the most incredible night of her life…with a guy who drove her absolutely crazy.
Worst of all, her plan had been an utter, complete, down-and-out failure.
Mason was not out of her system, he was not even the slightest bit of a bore in bed, and she needed to adjust her whole outlook on him as a man.
Sure, he was still a world-class jerk, but he was a world-class jerk with bedroom moves to die for.
All her fantasies starring Mason had been dead-on accurate—had possibly even fallen short of how amazing he actually was in bed—and she had no idea what to do about him.
One thing was sure though, if she left the island now, she’d never be free of the fantasies. More likely, they’d only get worse, fueled on by the memories of their only night together.
Oh yeah, she had it bad for Mason, and instead of leaving on the next plane off the island as she’d planned, she feared what she really needed to do was to stick around long enough to find the cure for him. But it would be all too easy to fall victim to his charms.
Storming out of his suite had been nothing more than a rather immature way for her to put some distance between them so that she could think clearly, and it had surely damaged her chances of getting Mason to help her out with her fantasies anymore.
Claire stepped into the shower and winced at the hot water, then slowly relaxed into it. She felt the twinges and aches of a long night of lovemaking, yet another reminder of Mason’s mark on her.
Think, Claire, think.
She had to think clearly about the situation. No more rushing headlong into half-baked plans and finding herself in worse trouble than before.
She always had her best ideas in the shower, but as she shampooed her hair, she realized that this shower only reminded her of last night in Mason’s shower during their third round of sex, of how he’d worked her into a lather both literally and figuratively, of how close the shower had come to her tropical rainforest fantasy.
Ten minutes later she was toweling off and no closer than before to a revelation about how to deal with Mason. Rather, her nerves were on edge and her body aching for his touch again.
She seemed to be insatiable all of a sudden. Even after last night’s marathon of sex, she still hadn’t had enough.
How much more of Mason would be enough? She’d never lusted after a guy so intensely; this was uncharted territory.
And then she saw her pl
an before her, clear as day. She had to stay at Escapade until she was sick of Mason. She had to convince him to sleep with her, again and again, until she’d had enough.
He’d clearly enjoyed last night as much as she had, if not more, so convincing him shouldn’t have been a problem.
Except for the way they’d said goodbye this morning…
She had to convince him not only that she should stay around, but that they should keep up what they’d started last night.
Definitely a challenge.
Claire dressed in her most convincing outfit, then dried her hair until it was its usual mess of crimson waves. A light layer of lipstick followed by a few finishing cosmetic touches, and she was feeling a tiny bit more confident that she could present her case to Mason.
She had one thing going for her—Mason had to have felt the strength of their attraction as much as she had. If anyone wanted to continue their liaison for a little while longer, it had to be him.
After grabbing a croissant and some coffee at one of the brunch buffets set up for resort guests, Claire followed the already-familiar route back to Mason’s suite. But after knocking on the door twice and waiting, she decided he must have already left for the day. Either that or he was avoiding her—which was entirely possible.
Doubt nagging at her, she tried to think where he might have gone on a dreary, blustery Sunday. The storm center still seemed to be hovering offshore, but the island had gotten fairly well pounded late last night, though she and Mason mostly had been too busy to notice. Some palm trees had lost branches, and the sky was a dark gray that suggested more was to come any time now. The wind whipped at Claire as she wandered back outside, but she didn’t mind it—even welcomed it. She loved the ocean scent that permeated the air and the sound of the palm trees rustling overhead.
But where was Mason? He seemed like the work-aholic type who might go to his office on a Sunday, so she set out for Escapade’s administrative offices, which were located just inside the main entrance of the resort.
As Hot As It Gets Page 6