by J. A. Coffey
"What's your plan?" he asked, his eyes intent on hers.
What was her plan? She knew she had one. It was a good one, too. What was it again? He pressed his lips to hers, and she didn't care about plans or who was following whom.
One little kiss. What could it hurt?
Chapter Four
One kiss wasn't going to be nearly enough.
At the first touch of Mason's lips, the craziness that had taken over her life disappeared. Casey sank into the kiss like a drowning woman who didn't want to be rescued.
She had been lying to everyone. She wasn't okay with the break-up. Nate leaving was okay, but the way he had done it...the things he said...
For just a few minutes, she needed to feel like a woman. Mason's tongue sparred with hers and then there was only him and a hot, sultry night.
He tasted like Corona and lime. Casey stepped in closer, reaching around his neck to play with the hair at his nape, bringing his mouth into closer contact with her own.
Mason raised his hands to cradle her neck, running his thumbs seductively along her jaw. He pulled back for a minute, but kept his thumbs moving.
Casey forced her eyes to open. In the dying light his pupils were dilated, making his eyes look more black than green.
"You're a wicked, wicked woman," he said huskily.
"You're not so saintly yourself," she said, grinning up at him. She felt like a teenager, kissing her first crush. Kissing Nate had never felt this way, like her belly was filled with molten lava. If Mason didn't start kissing her again, quickly, she had a feeling her world would explode.
Taking her hand, Mason led Casey to the private cabanas on the Serenity Deck. Cabanas with tied-back, gauzy curtains. Mason undid the tiebacks, separating them from the rest of the deck. Not that they needed to shut out the world, even metaphorically. The bartender had closed his grass hut bar a few minutes before. Mason led her to a chaise with fluffy green and blue pillows atop it. They sat in silence for several moments, looking at the wide expanse of sky through the opening in the cabana ceiling and the first stars of the evening. The sun finally sank below the water and it was as if the last lamp in the world had been turned off. A few more stars glimmered to life. Casey sighed. This was heavenly. No one knocking on her door.
No questions about Nate or her book or anything. Just the wide-open sky, a light breeze and Mason. Assuming he wanted her the way she wanted him. Casey turned her head, only to find him watching her intently. His glorious green eyes glimmered in the shadows thrown by the ship's twinkle lights. Her stomach clenched at the promise in his eyes. Seduction brought them into this quiet piece of paradise. Definitely seduction. Make the move. Casey barely held the words inside. It had taken all her resolve to leave the suite and come up here. She'd never chased a man like this before. Never put her physical needs above that tiny Sunday School Teacher voice saying, "Good girls don't."
This time the good definitely was. She would take what she wanted for the next seven days. After that, Sunday School Cassandra could put Saturday Night Casey back into the corner.
Casey channeled Sahara once more; it was the best she could do. She couldn't jump his bones. As deeply as she wanted to, she couldn't strip off his board shorts and tee. She could instigate. Reaching across the chair, Casey walked her fingers along his arm. "Well, you've got me here. We're on a private deck behind a screen of curtains and the rest of the world seems to have deserted us. Whatever are you going to do with me, Mr. Drury?"
His green eyes deepened to an almost blue. "I think I might make you scream. In pleasure."
Biting the corner of her lip, Casey gulped down a shot of panic. Scream from pleasure? It was the most delicious thing anyone ever said to her. "But first, I think we need to talk." His deep voice filled with emotion that Casey couldn't decipher Sunday School Cassandra cheered. Saturday Night Casey cried. This was not about talking. She didn't need to talk about expectations. She didn't want to talk about what brought her to the ship or even this damned deck. Casey wanted fifteen minutes of mindblowing kisses. Fifteen minutes when she could be just Casey, not Cassandra Cash. They would take the rest from there.
She needed to forget about Tyler and the mess back in her room.
Forget about the reporter. Forget about the book she couldn't write.
Forget about whether Nate was lying or telling the truth.
So screw talking about whatever it was Mason worried about. Was a few minutes too much to ask for? Whatever the attraction between them, it didn't have to be about more than spending the next seven nights doing ridiculously hot things to each other. Then she would go back to being Cassandra Cash. She would play the part of guru, figure out how to break this numbing case of writer's block and make it through the next few weeks without tearing her reputation to shreds.
They were on a darkened deck, somewhat protected by the drawn curtains, somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, for crying out loud. What was that saying? Vacation was one-third pleasure and two-thirds aggravation? Her life had been one hundred percent aggravation for the past few weeks, so she was taking the little bit of pleasure this moment offered.
"You don't know anything about me."
She couldn't read his face in the dim light, but something in his voice made her try. Why would any man be sad about sex with no strings? She reached into her feisty romantic heroine's bag of tricks and said, "I'm a big girl. Why not just take what you want? The rest can just be...the rest." What was there to know, anyway? His kisses made her stomach do acrobatic moves she hadn't seen since the last Olympics. She wasn't asking for a lifetime commitment. She would take this one night, and if she could, stretch their vacation fling until they reached port in Miami. She would go back to worrying about contracts and tabloid reporters and life once the plane landed at JFK.
"Mason Drury." She sat up and straddled his lap; a startled chuckle rang through the night air. Placing a small kiss beside his mouth, Casey said, "You made a lonely woman feel worthwhile."
She ignored the voice in her head, asking if the lonely woman was Tilly or herself. And placed another kiss, this time to the scar above his lip. She put her hands on his jaw and looked into green eyes she could drown in.
"You found a man on board the ship who would be nice to her, so she'll get over Herb and the bitch." Once again, her situation and Tilly's ran through her mind. She could be Tilly, getting over a man on a cruise. Only Mason was offering himself as the balm to her soul.
Settling her mouth over his open lips, she dipped her tongue inside. His length hardened between them and she just resisted the urge to grind her hips against him. Mason's hand stole around her, pressing against her back, bringing her breasts in contact with his chest. Someone moaned. Maybe, most definitely, her.
"Should we take this to my place or yours?"
Casey looked around the darkened deck. No one in sight. Probably most of the passengers were below deck, watching the Vegas-style show in the ballroom, playing cards in the casino or throwing back plates of food at the buffets or in the dining rooms. The empty bar threw dark shadows along the deck, plus they had the advantage of the untied tiebacks. "Neither. We should stay right here." She leaned in to him, wishing she'd pulled the tee from his shoulders earlier. Wishing he would pull her own t-shirt and bra from her overheating skin. Mason placed tiny kisses down her neck, flirting with the v-neck of her shirt. Casey wanted more. Faster. Slowly she rocked against his erection and her tummy muscles clenched. Mason groaned deep in his throat.
"Is there anything else I should know?" she asked as his hands locked her hips in place.
"I have protection." His hands moved to her legs, creeping under her skirt to skim over her upper thighs. "And not a damn thing," he said gruffly. "Thank God," she said, and lowered her mouth to his. In a quick move, his hands jumped from legs to belly, caressing the soft skin of her stomach. Casey drew her fingers from the back of his jaw to his chin; the exciting, cleanly-shaved man from check-in was gone. Replaced with a dangerous, sc
ruffy mountain of sex on the chaise beneath her. He walked his fingers over her stomach to just below her breasts. They ached for his touch, but Mason seemed content to tease. To let his hands almost contact her lacecovered breasts and then retreat to her sides.
Casey didn't want delayed gratification. She wanted to disappear into the dark void of sex and feeling. She dropped her hands to his waistband, tugging his t-shirt up.
Mason grinned against her lips and sat forward so she could draw the thin cotton over his shoulders.
She dropped it on the deck and took a moment to look at him.
His chest was tanned and strong, giving her the impression that he worked outside, shirtless. A lot. Construction, maybe? God have mercy on the women in his neighborhood. A light layer of hair trailed in a V from his pecs to disappear in a point below the waistband of his jeans. Like a treasure map. She chuckled.
"What?"
"I was just thinking how many times a pirate and his lady may have done this on the deck of a ship in the middle of the Caribbean."
"You are an odd woman."
She watched him from under her lashes for a moment. "And you're a little bit of a pirate. Kissing me in the elevator. Seducing me away from my room."
His stomach muscles bunched as she raked her fingernails over his heated skin.
"Personally, I've always thought of myself as a privateer," he said and easily flipped her onto her back and pressing his thigh between hers. He waggled his eyebrows.
"Privateer. Pirate. As long as you don't talk about my booty, we'll be fine."
Mason's left hand reached down to run through her long hair. His fingers roved over her ribs and stole around her hip. He squeezed her butt. "I like you. And your booty," he said. Casey giggled. The man's lines really were ridiculous, but they served a purpose. Kept things light. Kept her on her toes.
And then all thought fled as Mason reached around her back to draw her t-shirt over her head. He flipped open the front clasp of her bra, moving both cups aside. He dragged the straps slowly over her skin and she bit down on her lip as his chest came in full contact with hers. The tiny hairs on his bronzed chest teased her nipples, making her desperate for more. He tossed her bra on the deck and focused his attention on her needy breasts. His rough hands played against her softness and she arched her back, wanting more.
He removed the pillows from behind her and deliciously cool air brushed against her back. She shivered. He pressed her against the soft seat of the chaise. His knees hit the deck and he took her foot in his hand, slowly releasing the leather strap around her ankle. Mason dropped the sandal to the ground and lifted her other foot to his lap.
"Cold?" he asked.
Cold? Not even close. The man was taking off her shoes and she was burning up. But she couldn't make her voice work so she shook her head no as he reached up to unsnap the clasp on her skirt. He disposed of it as he had the rest of her clothes and then ran his hand lightly over the lace covering her center. Mason stood quickly, shucked his jeans and joined her on the chaise. His erection pulsed between them, and her inner muscles clenched. Moisture trickled to her panties.
Mason leaned on one elbow, playing with a lock of her hair and watching her. Like he was afraid she might change her mind. No chance of that, Casey thought. But what if he changed his mind? She didn't want this to end, not like this. Not even tonight, she admitted. She would deal with it if all he wanted was a single moment out of time. And what did that say about her?
"What do you want?" He interrupted her thoughts and Casey wanted to kiss him as a thank you. Somehow she had to get a handle on her emotions before she completely lost her mind.
"You." He wore a thick silver chain around his neck with a heavy cross hanging from it. Casey grabbed the chain, pulling down to her. "I want you."
His mouth descended on hers, taking her swiftly to the next level. She panted against his mouth as he reached between their bodies to press his fingers gently against her core. His shaft was long and hard against her thigh, pulsing as he delved two fingers under the elastic of her panties and found her center. She was ready for him and his digits slid easily inside, filling her, reaching up, up, up inside. As his fingers worked their magic inside her, his thumb pressed against her clit. Pressing, rubbing, releasing but never letting up for long.
She couldn't decide where to focus her attention. There was his thick cock. His yummy chest. That back that begged to be explored. But turning him around would entail him removing his hands from her body and she didn't want that. Not even a little bit. She settled for drifting.
Teasing his nipples with her fingers, she first tweaked them between her fingers and then soothed the burn with her tongue. She reached between them to palm his erection and her belly tightened at the thought of his length replacing his fingers. Oh, it was going to be delicious.
"Damn, woman, slow down." He whispered the words between them, but didn't really seem to mind when she squeezed him once more and then went back to work on his chest. His mouth. Her mouth met his and the thrusting of her tongue mimicked the thrusting of his fingers.
He pulled away, putting an inch of space between them. His breath was hot on her neck, sending another pleasurable shock to her system. "You haven't told me yet. What do you want?" The words barely penetrated the fuzz in her brain, but she knew without a doubt what she wanted. She wanted control tonight. She reached to draw his penis up. She rubbed her thumb over the tip and felt him tremble.
"I want you inside me."
Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, sat her back a scant few inches and reached into his back pocket. He pulled a foil packet from his wallet then tossed it onto the chair with their clothes. When he was sheathed, Casey straddled his hips once more.
As she slid down his length, her muscles tightened in response. He moved his hands to her hips as she found her rhythm. He reached between them, his thumb brushing against her clit and she was lost. On a low moan, Casey threw back her head and watched the sky above explode in tiny twinkling color.
She climaxed as he bucked beneath her. He pulled her chest to his and drew his strong hands down her back, around her buttocks and squeezed. "I definitely like your booty," he joked.
"Not on a first date you don't."
She chuckled. She settled against his side, her arm thrown over his chest and her legs tangled with his.
In two years with Nate, she had never felt this release. Never felt as thoroughly satisfied. How could a virtual stranger give her pleasure that a man who knew her for years couldn't? They lay quietly for a few minutes. She teased the hair on his chest. She listened as their harsh breaths subsided, but couldn't bear to break the contact between them. His heartbeat thundered beneath her hand. She imagined she could still feel his length pulsing inside her.
It was only her imagination creating this feeling inside. A feeling that told her to settle in and stay in his arms forever. There was nothing between them but a vacation fling. Nothing more than two attractive people hooking up and going their separate ways.
When she thought she could speak, she rose from his lap and reached for her shirt. Eyes closed, muscles relaxed, he slept. His mouth was slightly open, expelling small breaths every few seconds. He wasn't deeply asleep, but now was her chance to escape without that horrible Moment After conversation. How could she explain this crazy situation to him? Somehow she didn't think, I know we just slept together, but I've got another man staying in my room, so please don't come there again. It's not serious, he's a paid escort, but I can't exactly kick him out. Sorry, would do the trick.
He would think she was nuts. Or lying. Either way, he'd despise her. The deck pulsed below her feet.
The Vegas show was probably wrapping up. People would be on deck soon.
She placed a kiss on his collarbone. He shrugged and settled back into sleep. Casey pulled her t-shirt over her head. Knowing he would wake up if she tried to rearrange his jeans, she placed his t-shirt carefully over his waist, covering him as best she could
. Somehow she didn't think the closed gauzy curtains would satisfy his anger when he woke alone. And naked.
"We never did have that drink," she said. She knew she should feel ashamed for using him to forget. For not getting to know him first. But she could only feel sorry that they wouldn't have another moment like this one. She wouldn't seek him out again. Not with Tyler in her room. It was just...too messed up. She barely knew Mason, but he deserved better than that.
Her fifteen minutes were up. She was turning into a pumpkin. Pulling her bra from beneath his wallet, she stuffed it in her bag and quietly stood up.
"I'm sorry." Leaning down, she placed one last kiss on his mouth, withdrawing quickly before he woke up. "I have to go."
*****
Mason woke to the sound of a slamming door. A cool breeze blew against his skin. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Casey on the chair beside him.
The deck was empty, no beautiful brunette in sight.
No blue-checked mini-skirt. No pink toenails. She was gone.
Grimacing, he lifted the t-shirt from his waist and then disposed of the condom in a nearby trashcan. He stood and pulled his jeans over his hips. At least she had the decency to put the shirt over him so he wouldn't scare any old ladies who might venture into the cabana to look at the stars.
Why did she run away like that? Mason didn't have an answer.
His editor's voice rang in his head. Cassandra Cash chews up reporters and eats them for breakfast. She might make reporters' lives hell, but she didn't know he was a reporter. And sleeping with her wasn't hell. Not even Purgatory. Sex with Casey was as close to heaven as Mason figured he'd ever get. God, she was so tight around him he thought he'd scream. No way she had turned any man off women. Just what was the ex trying to pull?
That didn't solve the problem, of course. She was running from him. He would just have to run her down, because he wasn't close to finished with the small brunette.
He needed to come clean. Tell her he was a reporter, but maybe letting her know he wasn't writing the story on her would soften the blow. Besides, she was lying to him, too. She didn't tell him she was famous or that her books were on more coffee tables that Pledge. Of course, he hadn't really given her a chance. When he saw her looking from the newspaper to the crowd and back again, he knew it was her. Knew she was freaking out. And even without knowing her, he wanted to rescue her. He went from coming on to her, to nearly attacking her in the elevator, and then surprising her at her stateroom door. With several opportunities to tell her who he was, he hadn't. At the thought of her, his cock went hard.