He wished he could kiss all of her troubles away. Offer her comfort by way of his body. Not his heart, never his heart, it would be foolish to offer that to her.
The way she’d looked at him earlier, though. When she’d told him he was good for her. He wanted to say she was good for him in return. But the look on her face had scared him. She’d appeared so hopeful, her eyes shining, her expression dreamy. As if he was the reason for that dazed look on her face.
It was getting too heavy between them and it made him nervous.
This was why he didn’t do serious relationships. This was why he didn’t have any type of relationship anymore whatsoever. They caused him nothing but heartbreak. Nothing but trouble, nothing but pain and he was deathly afraid what might happen when it was over with Blake.
Because it would be over, of that he had no doubt. It couldn’t last, no matter how much fun they were having, how compatible they were. They were from two different worlds, worlds that clashed and collided with each other, but once the battle burned out, it was done.
Their moment together was dimming. Time was coming to an end and she’d need to return to DC soon. She didn’t want to go. Neither did he.
They both much preferred their simple little cocoon versus the bustle of politics and big city life.
What would happen when the relationship ended? Would Blake freak out? When they returned to Washington and he resumed his normal duties and she her regular life, would she chuck him under the bus and reveal their affair? It would ruin him. He’d probably be taken off presidential and White House protection forever. Transferred out, reassigned to some shitty, boring town where nothing happened. Or worse, they’d ship him out of the country and put him on dangerous counterfeiter detail.
Even though Blake was a grown woman with a mind of her own, they’d still blame him. And he was willing to take full responsibility, despite the humiliation. The vice president would know Mason had sex with his daughter. He didn’t think he could face the man if he ever found out.
Mason sat there, felt the edge of the mattress sink lopsided with his weight and he rested his hands over his face. What had he done? Why had he taken such a risk? All for a woman he wanted to get naked with—had it been worth it?
He remembered the raw emotion he’d seen on her face just moments ago, the subtle tremble of her hands and arms when he drew her into his embrace. The tumble of feelings that had consumed her, he’d seen them written all over her face. She’d looked so sad, so lost and it killed him that he was the one to make her look like that. Feel like that.
Was it all a ruse to get him to feel sorry for her? He wanted to believe in Blake, wanted to feel secure that she would never betray him, never go crazy on him. He’d had a few girlfriends in his past that went a little psycho, one in particular who’d lost it when he informed her he had to move due to a promotion.
She’d already been resentful that he spent all of his time working. She’d also hoped that he was planning to take their relationship to the next level, i.e. an engagement. That had so not been in the cards for him.
When he’d told her about the promotion, she went ballistic. Had even gone to his workplace and tried to badmouth him, not that any of his superiors had listened. Her betrayal had been such a violation of their trust, their relationship. She’d been a woman he’d cared about deeply.
All of that had been dashed the minute she went nuts on him. And because of that, he’d been wary of relationships ever since.
Christ. He was sick and damn tired of being wary.
He scrubbed his hands over his face once, twice. Yes, he could admit everything he’d shared with Blake had been worth it. The sex between them was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The most intense pleasure every single time, and it amazingly increased with every encounter.
Their shared and constant conversation was more of that unbelievable experience. She was smart, sweet, fun. She had a devilish sense of humor and liked to tease him. He wasn’t one for being teased, but he enjoyed it when it came from her. The light in her eyes when she gave him a hard time, the way she smiled at him. It brightened her whole face and it was such an achingly beautiful face...
He especially liked the way she watched him with those big blue eyes, as if anything and everything he did pleased her. He liked doing things for her, taking care of her beyond his role as the SS agent in charge.
And when he touched her, or when she touched him, it was as if they couldn’t resist. One touch led to two, then to three and then...it didn’t stop. They never wanted it to stop. Hell, he always ended up naked and thrusting deep within her welcoming body. Filling her up every chance he got.
Mason frowned. Did he really want to end this? Was this really just about sex? The sex was fantastic, but there was more. Much more. And despite his earlier negative thoughts about relationships, he realized he didn’t want to stop seeing her.
He didn’t want to let Blake get away. Not yet.
Now he needed to figure out how to prove that to her. That she mattered.
But would she believe him?
Chapter Ten
When Blake woke from her nap, Mason was nowhere to be found. Sleep had been fitful, full of odd dreams—no, nightmares—about Mason leaving her. Making her cry, leaving her desolate and alone. She gave up on sleep after jerking awake for what felt like the hundredth time.
She found a note Mason left her on the bedside table, saying he was working and would be back at the main house in a while. She studied his bold, slashing script, unfamiliar with his handwriting since he had no reason to communicate with her in such a manner.
There was so much about him she still didn’t know, was a mystery to her. She wanted to know, had cherished every private, intimate fact he’d doled out to her since they’d been together on the island, but it wasn’t enough.
She wanted more. She wanted everything when it came to Mason. But did that make her greedy?
Well, if it did, then so be it.
After puttering around in her studio for a few moments, she realized she couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts were consumed with Mason. She wanted to go out and talk to him but she just...couldn’t.
Allowing him entry into her private world, letting him see the one thing she did that no one else knew about, left her feeling raw and vulnerable. When she’d told him, she’d been shaking with nerves over his reaction and dreading what he might say.
His words had been kind, his reaction a complete surprise. She hadn’t expected his immediate, easy acceptance. And because of it, emotion had overwhelmed her. Emotions she couldn’t express no matter how badly she wanted to.
Sniffing, she grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, then her nose. She didn’t know why she cried. They hadn’t fought and he definitely hadn’t been mean to her.
That was precisely the problem. He hadn’t dismissed her easily or tore her down for her art. He hadn’t made her feel small or useless. Anyone else would’ve told her she was wasting her time.
Mason told her she had talent—and he’d been sincere.
Tears streaked down her cheeks and she swiped at them irritably. She never cried. It was a sign of weakness and her father abhorred weakness above all else. Yet it felt as if she’d done nothing but cry since she arrived on the island. The waterworks wouldn’t let up.
It felt surprisingly good to revel in the show of emotion.
Memories flooded her of the last time she cried, after she talked to her dad and he’d been so terribly cruel. Mason’s gentle, tentative offering of comfort had touched her, made her realize then maybe what they shared wasn’t all one-sided.
And then that kiss, which had ended far too soon, but eventually led to so much more.
Blake tossed the crumpled tissue into the wastebasket with a frustrated sigh. She’d been foolish earlier, letting her emotions get the best of her. All of the jumbled feelings that warred within her made her head ahe, her stomach burn.
She needed to focus on some
thing else, something meaningful. Constantly trying to prove herself by pleasing her father was getting her nowhere. She usually ended up making a fool of herself instead.
When she returned to DC, she was going to do something different. Make a positive change in her life and not let all the negativity get her down.
But what would she do? Volunteer maybe? Were there art programs for disadvantaged kids? That sounded like something she could throw herself into, something she would enjoy.
An idea dawned and she stood, practically ran to the tiny desk in the corner of her studio. Grabbing a notebook and a pen, she scribbled furiously, taking notes so she wouldn’t forget.
If there were no art programs for young kids, then she would create one. She had enough money in trust and her father would wholeheartedly approve, considering how it would fit into the image he was constantly trying to create her into. He’d probably ask her why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Better late than never, she mused as she studied her chicken scratch writing. Maybe she had Mason to thank. For making her open her eyes and really see the direction she was taking herself.
Absolutely nowhere and completely miserable while doing it.
Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it, paused when she saw the number was blocked. Frowning, she answered it anyway. “Hello.”
Silence greeted her.
“Helloooo?” Again nothing, so she hung up. Within seconds, the phone started ringing again and this time, she said nothing when she answered.
And heard heavy breathing on the other end.
“Who the hell is this?” She rolled her eyes. Had she ever had a breather call her before? Pervert.
A weird giggle sounded in her ear. “Blake?” The voice was falsely high pitched, almost as if it had been distorted.
Icy dread slipped down her spine. “Who is this?”
“Can you come out and play?” Another giggle. “Please, Miss Blake? You’re so pretty. I want to play with you.”
She hung up with shaking fingers, dropping the phone onto her desk as if it burned her. Her number was unlisted and she gave it out to only a few people. So who the hell was calling her?
Blowing it off as a wrong number was impossible, considering the person called her by name…
Her cell rang yet again and she stared at the screen and she saw it was her father. She hadn’t talked to him in a couple of days. But did she really want to talk to him now? Especially after that last phone call? No way could she tell him. She needed to let Mason know first.
Deciding to get it over with, she answered, striving for chipper.
“Blake! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” Her father’s voice was full of concern—and not a trace of anger. Strange, especially considering the call she’d just received.
“I’m fine, Daddy.” Her voice was shaky, a residual effect leftover from the weird caller. She hoped her father didn’t notice. “I haven’t been anywhere but here.”
Naked in Mason’s arms for the last few days, but she certainly wasn’t going to mention that particular bit of information. She’d been too distracted to bother with answering her phone or even leaving the house.
“I’ve called a few times but you never answer.”
Why didn’t he sound mad? She didn’t get it. “I guess I’ve been distracted. I’m sorry. I’ll pay better attention, I promise.”
“Oh, Blake.” He sighed and she swore she could hear him shaking his head over the phone. He probably was. “I’m not angry. Just concerned. I worry when I don’t hear from you.”
Did he really? She figured he was too occupied with his campaign to worry about her. “Have you talked to Mason?”
“Of course. I’m in daily contact with Agent Russell. I just thought maybe you might call me.”
“I know you’re very busy.”
“It’s been incredibly busy but exciting too. Things are looking good, sweetheart. Real good.”
The endearment touched her even though she knew it shouldn’t. It was pointless to get her hopes up only to have them dashed and smashed.
“I’m happy for you, Daddy,” she said softly, doodling on the notepad in front of her. Drawing little hearts with her initials and Mason’s in them.
She scratched them out furiously, slashed over them again and again. So silly.
“I wanted to talk to you about coming home. We’d like you to fly back next Monday morning. How does that sound?”
Just the thought of leaving Whitney Island filled her with dread. She didn’t want to go.
She didn’t have a choice.
“That sounds fine. Do you have something planned Monday night?”
“We do. The events are non-stop now, leading up to the election. It’s a pre-celebration gathering that evening. You’ll come, of course.” It wasn’t a question.
She answered it anyway. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“I’ll discuss arrangements with Russell, get everything taken care of and I’ll see you next week.” Her father paused and she waited, her hand clutching the phone so tight her fingers cramped. “I’m proud of you, Blake. For keeping out of the magazines. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
She absorbed his words, wishing she didn’t always have this need for his approval. It would be so much different if he gave it easily. “When I get home, I have something important I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I’m interested in some volunteer work, something to do with kids and art.” She waited breathlessly for her father’s reaction.
“That sounds perfectly fine, Blake. We’ll discuss it more when you get home. I look forward to hearing your ideas.”
“Goodbye.” She breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Bye, Blake. Take care.”
She held the phone up to her ear long after her father disconnected the call. Slowly, she set her cell on the desk and shook her head in disbelief.
Her father had been surprisingly accepting. Would wonders never cease?
Blake rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. She felt better after talking to him, though now the nerves came back even stronger. Not only did she need to go face Mason after almost crumbling in front of him earlier like a crazed, emotional wreck, now she needed to tell him about the phone call.
He was going to flip. And she didn’t look forward to it. He’d go into full agent mode when really she wanted everything to remain quiet and intimate between them. No matter how hard she tried, something always got in their way.
Gathering every last bit of resolve within, she went to the studio door and slowly turned the knob. She glanced around the edge of the door, then emerged from the studio and started down the hall toward the kitchen.
A soft light glowed from the living room and she realized it was awfully dark for the time of day. Clouds must have rolled in. It was getting closer to nightfall and darkness came earlier with every day that passed.
Soon it would be winter and gloomy and depressing. Christmas would come and she’d be sad and lonely and wishing she had someone, anyone to get her through the holidays.
Someone like Mason.
Pushing pointless thoughts and wishes from her mind, she moved down the hall, keeping her steps light, practically holding her breath. Where was he? Was he still in the cabin or had he come back into the house?
Blake ventured into the living room, saw the single lamp that sat on the end table lit and a fire roaring in the river rock fireplace. The room was warm and cozy. Inviting. She wanted to grab the thick blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and wrap it around her. Stare at the fire with a hot mug of coffee in her hands and just enjoy the quiet.
But she couldn’t. She needed to find the man who created this serene quiet first.
A sound came from the kitchen and she followed it, nerves slowing her pace, doubt making her wonder if she should turn around and go hide. Make him come to her.
No. She stood straighte
r and took a deep breath. She would go to him. She was being foolish.
When she entered the kitchen, his back was to her. He stood by the sink, the water was on and she saw he was washing his hands. The sleeves of his dark green thermal Henley were pushed up, revealing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His arms were beautiful, his entire body was beautiful, and a needful ache started deep in her chest, blooming outward through her limbs.
Mason shut off the water and reached for a paper towel, tearing it off with a zipping rip. He dried his hands, turned to toss the damp towel in the trash when his gaze lit upon her.
“Blake.” His voice sounded strangled, a little hoarse and she knew she’d surprised him.
“Hi.” She didn’t know what else to say and she shuffled her feet, feeling awkward.
“Hey.” His expression was unreadable. No surprise. He was so good at that. His mouth was a firm, straight line and she missed that vulnerable softness that only appeared when they were intimate.
Her skin prickled with awareness just at the thought of kissing him.
When she didn’t speak, he looked determined to fill the awkward silence with a bunch of meaningless words. “I ordered dinner. It just arrived. Are you hungry?” He nodded toward two large brown bags that sat on the kitchen counter and she stared at them, surprised.
“No one delivers on the island.” The town was so small everyone walked or drove to get what they needed.
“I convinced the new Chinese place to deliver. I, uh, couldn’t leave and I didn’t want to disturb you while you slept so I gave them a call.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
His brows drew together. “You weren’t?”
Blake shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep so I went to my studio.” She paused. “I got a—weird phone call a few minutes ago.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It probably wasn’t a big deal.”
“Tell me what happened Blake,” he demanded, his voice stern.
Under His Protection Page 12