by T. A. Foster
“The truth?”
She finally looked at me, and I knew then how much I had fucked up. Her eyes were brimming with it. Hurt. Confusion. Anger. She was mustering together everything she had to conduct this interview. I had stripped her down on my porch, kissed her, held her, and then I dropped all of it.
“Of course the truth. I can’t print lies.” Her words were curt. I deserved it.
I slid closer to her and moved back against the cushion. “Look, let’s stop for a second. I’m sorry.”
She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have an interview and then a story to write. It’s getting late. Can you please just answer the questions?”
I couldn’t let it go. My fingers brushed against her leg. “It’s not that I don’t want you.”
“Stop.” She held up a hand.
“Let me finish.” I stared hard. “I was seconds from this turning into a mistake. I saved us both from doing something we shouldn’t.”
“Wow. That’s your big speech? That makes it all better?” She threw her pad and pen on the floor. “I will add complete ass at apologizing to the headline.”
My forehead pinched together. “I said I’m sorry. I took it too far. I know I did.”
“Well, then if the mighty Mason Lachlan is sorry, then we’re all good.” She leaned over to reach for the pen, and I grabbed her arm.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you thought it was a mistake. I know your type.”
“Type? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You think you can sleep with any girl you want and there’s no consequences to any of your decisions. You’re so gorgeous and sexy, women just line up to jump in your bed and you don’t give a shit about any of them.”
She stood and I could see she was shaking.
I rose from the couch. “Hold on, sweetheart. I stopped things from going too far. I’m the good guy here.”
“Are you?” She glared at me.
“Yes. If we had—if I had—”
“What? You didn’t think I could take it? Did you worry I would fall madly in love with you? Get over yourself.”
I shook my head. I had lost complete control of this conversation. “No, I never said that. I just know how these things go.”
“Because you have so much experiencing screwing random women?” Her hands flew to her hips.
“Yes—I mean no—that’s not why I stopped.”
“I wasn’t trying to be your next girlfriend or move in with you,” she seethed. “I just wanted to get laid. Ok?” Her eyes bore into mine.
I sat on the couch, throwing my hands over my head. Why in the hell were women so damn confusing?
“You just wanted to get laid?” I looked at her, trying to stop myself from smiling. I had never heard that one from a pretty mouth like hers.
“Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?” She slumped onto the couch next to me.
“I don’t know. Because you don’t seem like a one-night stand kind of girl.” I turned to face her. Her cheeks were flushed from arguing.
“What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“The kind who is determined and beautiful.” I moved a flyaway curl from her cheek. “The kind of girl who can understand business and write about it.” I moved in closer. “The kind who is strong and independent enough to move halfway across the country to follow a dream. And is so fucking sexy I had to stop myself from asking you out three times today.”
Her eyes darted to mine. “What are you talking about? The entire day you avoided me like I was a case of food poisoning.”
“Ever wonder why?” My hand slid against her throat, tracing the lines of her neck. Her pulse quickened under my fingers. I couldn’t help myself. Her skin was addictive, just like her lips.
“I thought it was because you hated reporters.”
“I do,” I growled against her ear as I gently grazed my teeth against her skin.
She pushed against my shoulder. “We can’t start this up again. I don’t know what you want.”
My free arm wrapped around her waist, nestling her against my chest. “It’s not obvious?”
Her muscles tensed. “Let’s just blame it on the tequila.” She sighed.
She was right. I needed to make one decision and stick with it. No more back and forth. No more starting and stopping. No more second-guessing. I wanted her. Plain and simple.
“This is what I know.” I tipped her chin toward my gaze. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight if all I can do is think about these lips.”
“Sorry to hear that. I’m not doing this again.” She untangled herself from my arms.
“Look. I didn’t know how unattached your attitude was about sleepovers. I think we might be on the same page.” I had gotten her back in my hands; I couldn’t stop a second time.
“Sleepovers?” she laughed. “That’s what you call it?”
My hand ran along her thigh, shoving her skirt up. “What do you want to call it?”
“I want to call this an interview.” She tugged on the hem, moving my hand back to my side of the couch. “I shouldn’t have let things get out of control on the balcony either. I’m sorry too.”
I could see it in her eyes. She was where I was. Her breath was heavy, her eyes were gleaming with desire. Only she was tapped into her rational side.
“Prove it,” I challenged.
“Prove what?”
“That you can sleep with me and walk out the door in the morning completely unattached.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“You said that was all you wanted. Prove it.” I crushed my lips against hers, not giving her a chance to protest. I heard her purr under my tongue as she moved her mouth kissing me harder than before. It was an angry kiss. Defiant even, but it felt fucking incredible.
Her hands snaked around my neck and I moved to pick her up and carry her to my bed. “You better not stop this time,” she groaned as I laid her across the sheets.
“I swear I won’t stop until you beg me to.” I descended on her, pinning her arms over her head. She looked like a goddess, sprawled across my bed. I realized then that I might be the one who wouldn’t walk out of here unattached.
We had fallen asleep sometime around three. I woke up at five, Mason’s room was still dark. His arm draped across my chest. I looked at his clock. Shit!
“Mason.” I shoved against his arm.
“What?” he answered sleepily.
“I have to write my story.” I slid out from under him, my feet landing on the cool tile next to his bed.
He lunged toward me, his arm scooping me back toward his chest. “It’s early.”
I wrestled out from his strong hold. “I know¸ but my editor is in the office at eight. I only have three hours.”
I walked through the condo to grab my bag and returned to the bed with my tablet. I clicked the flat keyboard under the screen. It wasn’t my laptop, but it would work in a pinch.
Mason rubbed his eyes and propped himself on his elbow, the sheet fell off his hip. Focus, Sydney. Sex later.
“We’re really doing this now?” he asked.
“I’m going to get fired. I have to file a story about you before eight. An exclusive, one-of-a-kind story. I promised my editor I had something like that.”
“All right. What do you need to know?” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
I pulled open a blank page. If I typed in quotes as he talked I could easily copy and paste them into the story. It would save time.
“Where did we leave off last night?” I scrolled through my notes.
“Oh, you want to ask me about last night?” he teased.
“No, the questions. The questions.” I had to ignore the surges pulsing through my veins. Waking up with him, all I wanted to do was pull him back under the covers.
“I think you were commenting on how I was taking over the Texas development marke
t.”
“Oh, right.” I chewed on my bottom lip and typed in what I had recorded last night. There wasn’t much. “Ok, you were getting ready to explain to me why you chose this as your career.”
“Why did you want to be a journalist?” His fingertips skipped over my thigh.
I swatted at him. “This isn’t my interview. Tell me.”
He rolled back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t talk about this stuff. I don’t see how it’s important.”
“Because I need a feature piece on you. Feature means personal details.”
“When I was in college I took a business course, and it piqued my interest. I interned my junior year at a company that specialized in acquisitions. One thing led to another.”
My head whipped to the side. “That is a canned answer if I ever heard one.”
“Are you supposed to comment on my answers? I thought it was the press’s job to present unbiased information.”
I huffed, turning back to the keyboard. I thought of a new approach. “What is your favorite thing to do in your free time?”
“Oh, I think I showed you that, Miss Paige.” He smiled.
I groaned. “I’m going to get fired if you don’t take this seriously.”
He sat forward, planting a kiss on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll be serious.” He shuttled the hair from my neck and kissed behind my ear. “I like to travel.” I felt the chills run down my spine. “I was in Italy this spring and spent some time driving through the hill side. Beautiful country.” His lips moved to my other shoulder.
I tried to type while his mouth blew warm breezes over my skin. “Were you in Italy for a vacation?”
His hands wrapped to the front of my chest, palming my breasts. “No. I was there to talk about an olive farm.”
“Olive farm?” I leaned against his chest. His hands were all over me. “Why would you be interested in an olive farm?”
“Because I had a tip from a friend that there was an opportunity. I flew over to check it out. I’m not one to turn down a smart investment.”
“And did you decide it was a good investment?” I tried to picture the handsome Texan driving through the sunflower countryside, tasting olives in open fields. My heart panged for a second at the thought of someone else joining him.
“No.” His hands trailed over my stomach. I could feel his chest pressed against my back. “The timing was off. Good trip though.”
“I met Grey and Eden last night. What about your parents? Where are they?”
I felt the cool air hit my body as he slid from behind me and stood next to the bed. He walked to the bathroom. “I was very clear last night. I said no questions about family.” The door closed behind him.
I stared at the door. I wasn’t sure whether to knock and apologize or to wait him out. I started framing my story while I waited for him to emerge. A few minutes later the door cracked.
“Do you have enough yet?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry about the last question. I just think it would help for people to know about your upbringing.”
“I don’t talk about family. I’ll spout business advice all day. I’ll tell you my favorite sports teams and what I like to eat for dinner, but I’m not opening up the past. Grey and Eden are out of this too.”
I didn’t know what had hurt him so deeply, but it must have been tragic. “What it they are willing to talk to me?”
The glare he hit me with stung.
“Ok. I understand. No Grey or Eden. I promise. Will you sit with me so I can finish this?” I motioned to the bed.
He stretched out, over six feet of him. “What else do you have?”
For the next thirty minutes Mason answered every question I asked him. He made us coffee while I started crafting the story. It came together quickly. I outlined his college interests, his focus on sports as a child, and eventually painted the picture of a twenty-two year old taking on land deals that would make him a multi-millionaire in less than six years. I read over the story again. There were enough personal details to make it a full-length feature.
“Do you want to read it before I send it in?” I asked. He was at the window, watching the waves.
“No. I’m sure it paints me in a positive light.”
I hesitated for a second. I wondered if the entire night had been about this moment. About writing a flattering piece on him to sway the public’s opinion of him.
I attached the file to my email to Alice and hit send.
“It’s done.” I hugged my knees to my chest.
“Good. I’ve got a meeting this morning.” He turned from the window. “Can I buy you breakfast before you go into work?”
Feelings bubbled through my chest and stomach. Feelings I wasn’t supposed to have. Was he kicking me out? Was he buying me off with bacon and eggs? I felt annoyed and hurt. I had said I was the one who wanted the one-night stand, but with the Padre sun dotting the bed we had shared I was filled with utter sadness.
I felt the tablet slip through my fingers as Mason laid it on the bedside table. “Before breakfast though, could I interest you in a shower?”
I looked into his eyes. I realized maybe I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want the morning to end.
“I don’t have any clothes with me.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on you wearing clothes in the shower.” He winked as he led me to the bathroom.
He turned the hot water on and opened the door when the steam started to billow over the glass doors.
I stepped inside, feeling the water beat against my skin like warm rain.
“Feel good?” he asked.
I nodded. I didn’t think I could use words. They may have been all used up, or I was just tired of talking. I looked at the mountain of a man in front of me. His sculpted chest, the ridges at his hips, the stunning eyes, and I lost all sense of reality. I leaned against the shower wall as his mouth descended on mine.
The heat rushed between my legs, and I couldn’t touch enough of him fast enough. My hands moved against his chest and over the muscles in his shoulders, feeling the firmness of his skin. The water cascaded down his back and I groaned as his teeth sank into the flesh around my nipple. It perked and hardened under the flames of his tongue. His fingers ran between my legs, urging me to open up to him.
“Oh, God, Mason,” I panted as his fingers moved in circles. My leg wound around his waist. It had only been hours, but I wanted him inside me again. I was hungry for him. The way he felt, the way he knew how to make me feel explosive and whole.
His eyes locked on mine. He steadied us against the wall, and I moaned as he slipped inside me. I began to tremble from the intensity. He moved in and out, our bodies colliding with urgent possession.
I clawed against his back, holding on as the vibrations rushed from my body to his and back to mine again. It was as if we took turns sharing the same current, fueling the energy that joined us.
“You’re fucking amazing,” Mason growled as his teeth gripped my shoulder.
His movements quickened, and I screamed his name when I felt my body prickle with orgasmic waves.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. I wanted it to last forever. I wanted the sensations to double and carry me away, anchored only by the strength of his hands.
He smiled at me, pressing his forehead against mine. The shower sputtered behind us. “I’m not stopping until you beg me to. And even then I might not.”
My standing knee wobbled for a second before he picked up that leg and wrapped it on the other side of his hip. He plunged deeper and I screamed with electric pulses.
“Too much?” he whispered in my ear.
“No. I want more. More.” I gripped at his neck. He answered my request with another thrust that sent me over the edge. Toppling until I thought my body would melt in his hands.
“God, Sydney.” He clenched his teeth and I could see the veins in his neck throbbing. “You feel too good.”
I ran m
y lips over his mouth, sucking and twining my tongue against his. My hands wound around his neck. The rhythm slowed between us and my eyes opened. His eyes searched mine and my heart pounded against my chest. He moved slowly, reveling in the feel of our bodies coming together then slowing drawing farther apart.
I dug my heels against him. “Don’t,” I pleaded. “It’s too much.”
He kissed me harder. “I can feel all of you like this.”
I felt him pull away again and I whimpered. He moved back inside me slower than before. I sank into the pleasure of his hardness. “Ohh,” I moaned.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
He already knew the answer. The way his body reacted to mine said everything. We were going to incinerate if we kept this up.
I wouldn’t be able to last much longer if he held this slow torturous pace. It was exquisite pain—giving me everything I wanted, only seconds later taking it away.
I nodded. “It’s good.”
He nuzzled in my neck, trailing wet kisses below my ear. “I could do this all morning.” He pulled out again, and I clawed against him.
“No,” I moaned.
“No?” he asked.
“I mean yes.”
“Tell me what you want, baby.” He began to fill me, I couldn’t stand the agony.
I shook my head. I couldn’t say it. He stopped, leaving me half-satisfied. I felt the pain coiling deep inside. I needed him to release me.
“All morning,” he whispered. His hand brushed the damp hair from my cheek. “I keep my promises.”
“Take me back to your bed.” My eyes flashed to his.
“And then what?” His thumb began to roll over my nipple and the pure want for him fired through my senses. My body responded to his touch, arching into him, getting hotter and wetter when he pushed inside me, calling his name when I felt desperate need gripping under my skin.
“I’m already begging.”
“Baby, that’s not begging.” He tipped open the shower door and walked toward the bed. My arms and legs wound tightly around him.
He leaned forward until my back touched the sheets. I stared into his eyes. He was watching me with hunger and pleasure. The water droplets slid over his shoulders and chest. I wanted to lick every last one from his glorious body.