In Deep

by Brenda Rothert

  I wanted to hear more about the things he wanted to do to me, with no dirty details spared. And then, I wanted him to follow through. Even if it was just sex and not love, I didn’t want to say no.

  “I need to brush my teeth,” I murmured as soon as he was on his way to the basement. “And I can’t do it while he’s in the bathroom down there.”

  “Why not?” Taylor gave me a conspiratorial smile. “Bet he wouldn’t complain. Give him a couple minutes to get naked first.”

  “You’re so lucky.” Jess sighed sadly. “He’s so hot.”

  “Should we sleep with headphones on tonight?” Taylor asked with a knowing smile. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to . . . you know, muffle your excitement.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said with a wry smile. “I don’t know what’ll happen with us, but if I decide to sleep with him, I’ll use protection.” I looked between the two girls.

  “It’s a little late for that talk,” Taylor said, glancing down at her belly.

  “No, it’s not. After you have your babies, you’ll have to make that choice again. It’s even more important when you have a child to think about. Be safe.”

  I picked up dishes from the table and carried them to the island.

  “We’re cleaning up, April,” Taylor said, grabbing my shoulders and steering me out of the kitchen. “There are new toothbrushes in the closet in our bathroom. Have fun.”

  “When Mason comes up, tell him I’m up in the ballroom,” I said.

  I went up to the girls’ black and white tiled bathroom, found a toothbrush and brushed my teeth, then wandered up to the ballroom.

  I liked the wood smell of the enormous, nearly empty room. There was a good vibe here; an intangible sense that happy times had happened in here.

  It was true for me. Last time I’d been up here, I’d kissed Mason. It had been the first time in my life I’d initiated a kiss. And even though it had ended abruptly, when I thought about it, I remembered the bliss of leaning up to reach his lips, the soft scrape of his beard against my skin and the way his muscled shoulders felt beneath my fingertips.

  “Hey,” a deep voice said from the staircase. I turned to see Mason leaning against the wall there, grinning at me. He wore jeans, a plain navy t-shirt with a v-neck and dark brown shoes.

  “Hi.” I clasped my hands together, unsure what else to do with them.

  He scrolled to a playlist on his phone and set it on a chair. Then he walked toward me, a Frank Sinatra song starting just as he wrapped an arm around my waist and took my hand in his for a waltz.

  His short, dark hair was damp from the shower, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

  “I couldn’t get any work done today,” he said, his eyes on mine. “Been thinking about you all day instead.”

  “Same,” I admitted. “You gave me a lot to think about in the kitchen this morning.”

  His eyes sparkled with amusement and he pulled me so close our chests were nearly touching.

  “Never would have pegged you for a girl who loves dirty talk,” he said.

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  He slid his hand from the small of my back down to my ass, squeezing it just hard enough to make me suck in a breath.

  “Actually, I think I know you pretty well,” he said in a low tone. “I think the unsure, shy exterior isn’t really you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. The woman grinding her ass against my cock this morning wasn’t shy. I think you just need the right guy to be uninhibited with. And once you find out how good it feels, you’ll be hooked.”

  “Hooked, huh? On sex?”

  “Specifically, on sex with me. You won’t be a woman who spreads her legs and lies there. You’ll be riding me with everything you’ve got.”

  I felt my body warming in response to his words. And surprisingly, I hadn’t missed a single dance step, even though my mind was definitely elsewhere.

  “So, I’d get hooked on sex with you, but it’s mind blowing for you no matter what? The common denominator in all this amazing sex is you?”

  His lips curved up in a smile. “I didn’t say that. Sex is usually good, but rarely great. With you, though, I think I could get hooked just as easily.”

  “I think you’re pretty bold for opening our first date with predictions about the sex we haven’t even had yet.”

  He cocked a brow in amusement. “Touché. This is our first official date, isn’t it?”

  “And you took me out for spaghetti in my own kitchen,” I pointed out. “Just saying.”

  His laugh was warm and genuine. “I’ll take you anywhere you want next time.”

  “But will there be a next time, after we’ve slept together?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled in a hurt expression. “Of course. You think I just want to get laid?”

  I shrugged. “It’s been about two months since you’ve had sex. At least that’s what I pretty much heard you tell Reed.”

  “We’ll wait then. I’ll date you the right way before we consider sex.”

  Oh, hell no. I’m too turned on right now for that plan.

  “I wasn’t saying that,” I said quickly.

  The song ended and I stopped dancing, unable to keep time without the rhythm of the music. Mason’s gaze darkened as he looked down at me. I was trying to think of something else to say when he bent and grabbed my ass in both his hands. He picked me up and carried me over to a wall, pressing my back against it.

  “What are you saying, April?” he said. “I know what you want, even if you don’t. But you tell me, just so I know where you’re at.”

  He was hard. How could I possibly think straight with that pressing against my open legs? My legs had instinctively wound around his waist, and now my hips were instinctively arching against his.

  “I want . . .” My voice faltered and I cleared my throat. “I want to have the kind of sex you’re offering. And I want to know you don’t just want me once. And that you won’t be having sex with any other women at the same time.”

  “Done.”

  He cupped my cheek in his hand, tracing his thumb over my lips. I caught the tip of his thumb between my teeth and bit it lightly.

  “You like that?” he said, his voice husky. “You want me to bite you when you start to come? You’d love that, dirty girl.”

  “I may bite you back.”

  “I fucking hope so.”

  He crushed his mouth into mine, his tongue teasing and seeking. I wound my fingers into his hair and pulled. He groaned and kissed me deeper, and I reveled in the high of turning him on.

  I was physically incapable of stopping my hips from grinding against his thick, massive erection, which I could tell was definitely going to impale me when the time came.

  Bring.

  It.

  On.

  “I’m close,” I said, panting as I pulled away from him.

  He stepped back, lowering me to the floor with one hand beneath my ass. “Close? Damn, baby. That’s fucking hot, but not yet.”

  “Tease,” I muttered.

  His hand shot out and wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him.

  “Say that again, and find out how much of a tease I can be,” he said, his brows arched in challenge.

  I was silent, other than my still-heavy breathing, and he gave me a satisfied smile.

  “Dance with me,” he said, leading me across the room by the hand. He went to his phone and scrolled to a playlist.

  The song that came on, Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran, wasn’t the right beat for a waltz. Instead of raising my hand into the air in our usual stance, Mason wrapped both arms around my waist.

  Once my arms were around his neck, I got lost in a haze of bliss. I rested the side of my face against his hard chest and took in his clean, warm scent.

  A voice in the back of my head was telling me that this was about so much more than sex for me. I already felt myself falling
for him. How could I not? He was sexy and smart and he set me on fire. His size made me feel physically protected, but I also knew I was safe opening myself to him the same way he’d done with me.

  I trusted him. And for some reason, nothing had ever turned me on as much as that did.

  His lips brushed over my collarbone and I tipped my head back, wanting more. He kissed my neck, slowly working his way up to my jaw line and then to my lips.

  “I was thinking,” I whispered, “that the sooner we start that movie, the sooner it’ll be over.”

  “And the sooner we’ll find ourselves in bed,” he said against my lips. “I like it.”

  He took my hand, grabbed his phone and led the way down the stairs. When we got to the first floor, it was empty. The girls had to be up in their rooms, and they’d left just one dim lamp on.

  Mood lighting, apparently. It made me smile as I settled into a spot on the couch and Mason flipped through the channels.

  “Anything good on?” I asked as he sat down next to me.

  “I’m gonna order one when I get to the menu.”

  “We don’t have pay per view,” I said. “Just regular cable.”

  “I set it up, so you’ve got it now.”

  “Nice. Thanks.”

  He paused in his channel surfing and looked over at me.

  “How come you never talk about your family?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe you’ve just never asked about them.”

  “Is that really why?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “You said you used to play Monopoly with your sister. That’s a start. Just keep going.”

  “What about the movie?”

  He put the remote on the coffee table and tuned to me. “It can wait.”

  I blew out a breath. “Okay. But first I’m getting us both a glass of wine.”

  I went into the kitchen, feeling a stab of guilt over how long it had been since I’d thought or talked about my family. It was just easier not to. The more years that passed without me talking to my parents, the better.

  As I uncorked a bottle of Shiraz, I tried to decide where to start with the subject of my family. And how much should I share? I’d never spoken of the hard feelings I had against my parents, or why.

  But I knew I wouldn’t hold back with Mason. Not after he’d shared his secrets with me. Would this thing with us be long-term? I knew the answer, but I still wanted to enjoy this closeness while I could.

  WHEN I WALKED BACK into the living room with two glasses of wine in hand, Mason was bent down in front of the fireplace. When he stood and turned, the first flickering flames of a fire were casting shadows across his face.

  The fire was the only light in the room now, and it had changed the mood from hopeful to warm and sensual. I took a hearty swallow of wine.

  “Thanks,” Mason said, taking the glass I held out to him.

  We sat back down on the couch, facing each other.

  “I grew up in Colorado Springs,” I said, setting my glass on the coffee table. “My dad was a photographer and my mom stayed home with me and Alyssa, my little sister. We had a tiny house and no extra money, but we were happy. My mom was always crafty, and she started making primitive picture frames out of branches we’d pick up on hikes.” I stopped to consider for a few seconds. “I guess I was . . . nine then. We started taking Dad’s photos and Mom’s frames and packaging them together to sell at a local art gallery. Alyssa was seven then. It was fun for all of us. But it took off in a way none of us imagined. My parents ended up starting a business to make and sell the photos.”

  Mason gave an appreciative nod. “Must’ve been exciting.”

  “It was at first.” I took a sip of wine and thought back. “We got a nicer house and new cars and my parents were so happy. But the business just kept growing, and they had to devote every waking hour to it. They outgrew their home office and started taking us to their new one when we got out of school, but we were just in the way. They told us it would get better, that they’d hire people to manage the business once it was firmly established. But they were never able to let go. It got to a point where it was just me and Alyssa at home by ourselves all the time.”

  “That sounds tough,” he said. “Especially for the oldest.”

  I shrugged. “Now you know how I learned to cook and bake. I packed lunches and cooked dinner for me and my sister every day.”

  “You guys are close, then?” He rested a hand on my knee.

  “We were forced to be, I guess. But I was always the responsible one. The few times my parents tried to hire people to take care of us, Alyssa and I disliked them so much that I told my parents I could take care of the cooking and laundry.”

  “You were pretty young for all that.”

  I finished my wine and set the glass back on the table. “Yeah. And then Alyssa turned into a wild child. Once she started high school, she never came home on time and she picked up some bad habits.”

  Mason raised his brows in question.

  “Smoking and drinking,” I said. “And then, after school, sex in cars with older guys. I lectured and threatened and even begged her to stop, but nothing worked. When I was seventeen and she was fifteen, she got pregnant.”

  I smiled sadly as Mason’s eyes widened, remembering my own reaction.

  “Our parents were in New York on business at the time. Alyssa and I told them over the phone. They were shocked, but still . . . removed, you know? I was the one in a panic. I just knew I’d end up raising that baby.”

  Mason nodded slightly, his eyes on mine and his hand warm on my knee. I took a deep breath and continued.

  “And then I met Alyssa’s boyfriend Kevin and my problems went from bad to worse. He was a strung out nineteen-year-old with jealousy issues.”

  “Nineteen?” Mason muttered. “Shit. And she was fifteen?”

  I nodded. “My sister had a bizarre love/hate relationship with him. To this day, I don’t know why anyone would feel the slightest affection for Kevin. If Alyssa was late, or wore her hair the wrong way or looked in the direction of another guy, he went bat shit.”

  “He was abusive?”

  “I need to go grab the wine,” I said.

  “I’ve got it.”

  He squeezed my knee gently and got up, returning a few seconds later with the wine. He refilled both glasses, set the bottle down and then sat back down.

  I wanted to stop here. I’d already told him so much, and dormant emotions were coming back to the surface. But his caramel eyes were soft; his gaze encouraging. When he put his hand back on my knee, I decided to let it all out.

  “Was Kevin abusive?” I reached for my glass and took a sip. “Yes. Alyssa started coming home with bruises. I was a senior in high school then, and it was all I could do to hold both of us together. I told myself I was, anyway. She kept telling me she had Kevin under control. But then . . .”

  I sipped my wine, wishing I could swallow the sadness, too. “I came home one afternoon and found Alyssa at the bottom of the stairs. She was lying in a pool of blood. Kevin had pushed her down the basement stairs and . . .” My voice wavered. “She lost the baby. I called an ambulance and we went to the hospital.”

  Blood. So much blood. I’d never forget the way my shoe had slipped in it, or the trail of blood left on the stairway when the paramedic stepped in it. Time would never wash away those memories.

  “She survived,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Kevin skipped town. My parents told me and Alyssa it was all for the best.”

  Mason did a double take. “What was for the best?”

  “Her losing the baby. That she was too young, and it would happen later when she was married. But you know . . . it wrecked her. And it wrecked me, too. I was at a track meet when it happened, watching some friends compete. And I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was supposed to be going home to study and I changed my mind at the last second and went to the track meet. If I’d gone home instead . . .”

  “April.”
Mason’s tone was soft. “You can’t do that to yourself. It’s destructive.”

  I nodded. “I realize, logically, that it’s Kevin’s fault for pushing her. But she meant everything to me. We fought like all sisters do, but I was proud of us for sticking together. Even though she was prettier and I got better grades, we weren’t jealous of each other. But after she lost the baby, things were never the same.”

  “So you don’t talk to your family much?”

  “I talk to my parents every few months. Usually just a five-minute phone call. Alyssa ended up going to work for them. I went to college to make thirty-five grand a year as a teacher and she barely finished high school and makes six figures, so who’s the smart one now?”

  I laughed, but Mason didn’t even crack a smile.

  “I’m sorry you went through that. Now I know why you jumped in front of Colton’s fist,” he said. “And why you’re so maternal.”

  “You think I’m maternal?”

  “Very.”

  My short groan of disappointment made him grin.

  “Don’t get me wrong, April. I like that about you.” He cocked a brow at me. “I’m actually still waiting to discover even one thing I don’t like about you.”

  “My dancing?”

  He shook his head and scooted closer to me. “Imperfectly charming.”

  “My lack of fashion sense?”

  “You look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”

  He slid a hand around my waist and I felt his the heat of his closeness.

  “I eat cashews in bed,” I admitted. “The salt gets in the sheets. Very unlikable.”

  “Hmm.” His tone was skeptical. “Only one way to find out. We need to get in bed.”

  He leaned in to kiss me, but I stopped him with a fingertip on his lips.

  “You know how I said I need to go slow?”

  “We won’t have sex,” he said, his eyes darkening seductively. “There are lots of other—”

  I added two more fingertips to his lips, silencing him.

  “What I need is slow tonight. Not slow as in, wait for weeks or months.”