by Ryan Michele
“It’s the truth,” he replies as the waitress comes by happily, probably thinking that I didn’t get stood up after all and this is my date. Oh, how wrong she is.
“Can I get you something, sir?” she asks, all bubbly happy sitting down another beer, but this time there’s a slight hunger in her words as well. A twinge of something hits me, but I focus on the man in front of me instead of her.
“Vodka on the rocks.”
She begins to name off several different brands of vodka and only then does he break his stare from mine and move to her in an annoyed way. “The best you have,” he says looking away and utterly dismissing her. The air of authority in his tone sends a trill down my arms and goosebumps rise to the surface. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on just by a deep, raspy voice and its tone before. Add in the words and demand, I think I may be in trouble. Shit.
“By all means, have a drink.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he charges back not missing a beat. It’s like a back and forth ping pong match, but it’s more of a push and pull. I say something, then he comes back. Then reverse and I have to admit, I like that, too. It’s a bit of a challenge, and it’s captivating.
“Since your cock isn’t going anywhere near me, again I ask, what can I do for you?” I take a drink from my beer trying my damnedest to appear calm and collected on the outside because inside my arousal is spiking to dangerous levels. Hello, lust hormones—engage! Really can I blame them though. He’s hot as hades.
Just then the waitress brings this man’s drink. Listen to me, this man. Fuck I don’t even know his name. Seriously, Aiden? He’s officially short-circuited my brain in the little time he’s been at my table. Or did it start earlier when our eyes connected across the room, who knows?
He dismisses her again, and I take a bite of my food playing this as cool and unaffected as possible. I mean, what’s the guy going to do to me in a crowded restaurant, anyway. Well, besides turn me on, which now that I think about it, is already happening and may not be a good thing.
“I’ve come for you.”
I swallow, wipe my lips with the cloth napkin, and set it in my lap, giving him my full attention.
“That’s interesting because I didn’t come for you.” I’m not quite sure where the attitude came from, but with the back and forth, the sass feeds off it. That craving to one up him or catch him off guard, or to see a crack in the armor he wears like a second skin, has me wanting to poke the bear as my mother would call it and see what happens when he’s lit.
Lord, he’s hot. Like, could give Joe Manganiello a run for his money hot. His hair is a mix of browns, some dark, some lighter, cut in a way that he needs nothing in it for it to lay perfectly sexy and still run his fingers through it. His jaw line is so defined that his cheeks look almost angled. His light dusting of a beard looks like it’s meant to be exactly that long and exactly in that place. And those eyes. Those eyes speak of forbidden promise. That, for some reason, call to me like a moth to a flame.
Get a grip, woman.
“Mason Dean,” he announces leaning forward and putting his hand out for me in an introductory gesture. Being the woman I am, I lean in and take his hand, which upon contact I realize is a total mistake. His touch is like a spark of electricity, and I flinch just a bit and try to recover myself, but I have no doubt he saw it or felt it.
Mason’s skin is soft yet firm, and this simple touch puts me off kilter again. I’m thinking after this, me and my brain are going to have to have a chat about turning me into a zombie around hot men.
He tugs my arm and my traitorous body follows moving closer to him, only exposing me to his warm heat.
“I could feel that from across the room.” He says the word that like he can read what his touch did to me on my face. “It’s why I’m here.” He doesn’t release me, as if he’s waiting for something, and it clicks that I haven’t told him my name, but I’m not sure I want to.
He screams trouble, and I’ve had enough of that from men in my lifetime. I don’t need any more. Mason’s trouble appears different, though, and I’m drawn to him, but it’s probably just my bad judgment. But maybe he’s so wrong that he’s right? Maybe. For tonight.
Leaning back, I tug my hand from his not giving him what he wants. If he really wants my name, he’s going to have to work for it. He was so bold and brazen to come up to my table with his words and declarations, let’s see what he’s made of. Or find out if he’s all piss and vinegar like the other men I’ve had in my life. All show and no follow through.
“So, Mason. You just hang out in restaurants waiting for single women to come in?” I’m loving being a smartass. It gives me a sense of power, and I’m rather enjoying this in a twisted sort of way.
“I’m actually here on a business meeting.” I look over to the booth where he originally sat, and a man in a dark gray suit glowers at me. His nostrils heave with each breath he takes in and out. Who pissed in his Cheerios? It’s like I forced Mason away from him.
“You’d better get back to your date. He’s a bit testy,” I chide, getting a small quirk of a smile. I haven’t had this much fun on a date, or hell a non-date, in I can’t remember how long. As much as he should go, a part of me doesn’t want him to. That part doesn’t want this to end, at least not yet.
“I’m content here,” he replies pulling out his phone quickly and typing a text. I watch the guy in the booth as he looks at his phone, gets up and leaves. Mason ignores the man leaving.
“Besides, the view is much better up close.” Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can only hope he doesn’t see how he’s affecting me. It’ll blow my game all to shit and give him the upper hand. “Now tell me, why’s a beautiful, sexy woman like yourself eating all alone?”
A hint of embarrassment flitters through my skin. It’s one thing to make up your mind that it’s not a big deal and tell it to a waitress; it’s another to tell some hot guy you don’t know that you were stood up on a blind date. Yet, when it comes down to it, he’s like every other guy hot or not. He either takes it like a man or he laughs. If he laughs, I’m out of here.
“I had a date who decided to work late and not come. I was hungry, so I’m eating.” I make a point to grab my fork and take a bite of the chicken and pasta. With each chew, the small bit of embarrassment washes away leaving confidence in its place.
“Fool,” Mason decrees. “He’s a damn fool.”
I swallow, happy that his expression wasn’t humor. It would have been a damn shame. “Yeah, why’s that?” I’m not fishing for compliments here. I genuinely want to know what this man wants, besides fucking my brains out. He’s already made that clear.
“Every man in this room’s cock is rock hard because of you. Each one of them will be thinking of you while they're getting off tonight. Good thing for me, I won’t have to pretend because I’ll have the real thing.” Confident, cocky and arrogant—those are a heady combination, and he has them all down to a science. Damn it’s hot, and it’s what I lacked with my previous lovers, but can I?
“You really think I’m going to leave here with you. I don’t have a clue who you are.”
“You’ll know me alright. Every damn inch of me—you’ll know,” he rumbles, leaning into the table, his elbows resting on it. The collar of his light blue button-up shirt is undone, and I can see a hint of toned, tan skin there. That hidden treasure is a beacon for my libido, spinning it out of control and wondering what lays beneath. The mystery that is Mason Dean. Hell, even his name is sexy as hell.
My body urges to go wherever he wants to take me and feel good. Damn, it’s been way too long since I had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced. I have no doubt this man knows how to use his cock. Just from his presence. His confidence. His authority. All of it. And if he doesn’t, it would be a damn disappointment, and I’d have to go get my gut checked for its validity.
The waitress walks past, and in an urge to do what’s right, I call, “Please bring me the check.”
“I’ve got this,” Mason says and instinctively, I reach for the hundred-dollar bill I have stashed in my purse in case of emergencies. I pull it out and hand it to the waitress. Now, if Drake hadn’t turned out to be such a douche, I would’ve let him pay for me. But I’m not on a date with Mason, and it’s a pride thing. I constitute this as a self-saving emergency.
“Keep the change.” Her eyes light up. Sure, I just wasted probably fifty bucks on a tip for her, but my pride and integrity are still in line. Exiting this situation is best before my body completely overrules me, which it’s so very close to doing, so I rise. “Nice to meet you,” I say just as I turn and almost run into a man halting at just the last second before we collide. “Excuse me.”
“Are you Aiden Porter?” he asks with a hopeful gleam in his expression as I take a step back out of his space. He’s a bit shorter than I am, but I’m in heels. He has very light brown hair that he uses way too much product on. It has to be hard as a rock, and the curious side of me wants to touch it and see. His suit is nice, but it looks crumpled and wrinkled as if he’s been working all day especially with the pretty large reddish purple stain on the collar. Worse, I don’t recognize him, but he knows my name.
“Yes, and you are?”
A wide smile crosses his face. “I’m Drake Hamilton. Your date.” My stomach drops. I’m sure this guy is nice. I know Lila’s right about his good job, but this guy isn’t even my type, not even close. I like them broody and mysterious. Confident. Knowing. This guy has none of that, similar to Greg. Maybe that’s why Lila set you up with him. I sigh inside. We’ve talked about my changes in perspective when it comes to men. That being said, I have no idea why she’d arrange a date with a guy like my ex.
“I’m so happy you’re still here. I had to work late and…” he trails off as I speak.
“Oh, you finally show up? Enjoy yourself, I’m just heading out.” The look of shock hits him as if I just slapped him across the face in front of his mother. This guy can’t actually think that I would sit around and wait for him. Umm. No. Been there, done that, not happening again. I crave a man who puts in effort for me and it’s not all one-sided on my part. Drake not even calling Brad is an automatic disqualification. He can’t be that dense.
Drake’s eyes go beyond me, and his back straightens. “Mr. Dean. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Confusion hits me at the thought of these two knowing each other. What are the odds of that?
“Meeting, and now I’m escorting Ms. Porter home.”
I suck in a sharp breath as Drake’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, you’re taking my date home?” he asks incredulously, his gaze coming back sharply to me all the while pointing his finger at himself to accentuate his words. He does it in a way that he’s trying to stake a claim on me. What an asshole.
“No, he’s not, and you’re not my date. You stood me up and didn’t bother to tell Brad so he could tell me. Therefore, you struck out on the dating scene.”
He looks me up and down, but I feel nothing from his gaze. “Shit,” he grumbles.
“Shouldn’t have been late,” Mason says from behind me.
“I was doing what you told me to do!” Drake practically whines back. If he would have stomped his foot, I would have mistaken him for a toddler not getting his way with a certain toy he wanted. Whining on a man is never a turn on for women; all men need to take notice of this. But his words do register. Mason told him to work. I crane my neck behind me.
Mason shrugs. “I’m his boss.”
Turning back to Drake, I’m not sure what to think. Mason is Drake’s boss and probably Brad’s boss as well. Mason had him work late. Is there something more to this that I need to know? My job is solving problems in companies and putting them back together again. I need to ask Mason a few questions it seems so I can get to the bottom of this one. But that won’t happen. I’m getting out of here and away from all of this debacle.
“I’m leaving,” I tell both men as I feel eyes on me around the restaurant again. This time, though, it’s not limited to the men. Instead—it’s everyone—waiters included. I hope they enjoyed their dinner and a show. Whatever, life is life and this happens to be mine. Yeah me!
Drake grips my arm as I walk past him, rather forcefully stopping me from moving. “Look, I’m sorry okay, let’s redo this.” There’s a hint behind his eyes that screams trouble and not the kind that I got from Mason. It’s definitely time to abort this date because the kind of trouble I’m reading is the exact same that I should have seen in Greg. The taker. That’s what Drake is. No way am I having anything to do with him.
“Let go,” I say with every bit of authority and try to pull my arm from him, but he tightens it. I feel the throb in my fingertips as he hits a delicate spot. Asshole!
“Get your fucking hands off of her.” Mason doesn’t wait for Drake to comply, instead, he reaches out with this hand and cups the man’s elbow. I think Mason squeezes it because his knuckles turn white, and my arm is instantly released. Rubbing my elbow trying to remove the sting, Drake’s face turns into a combination of pain and anger.
This night is fucked up, and I need away from this madness. Not looking back at either of them, I dart from the restaurant. Air and escape—that’s what’s on the menu.
Chapter 3
Aiden
The warmth of a hand comes to the small of my back as I walk briskly to my car. I turn sharply to see Mason right there, keeping in step with me.
“I can make it myself, thank you,” I say, making my heel-covered feet move just a little bit faster. He doesn’t budge nor does he say a word. Surprisingly, the panic I should feel having a man I don’t know follow me to my car doesn’t hit. No, it’s more an activation of nerves that fire from his touch growing throughout me and prickling my skin.
I pull out my keys and bleep the unlock button, but that’s as far as I get upon approaching my car. Mason turns me in one fluid movement, my hands going to his suit-covered chest and a gasp leaving my lips.
“What are you…” My words are cut off by Mason’s lips covering mine, the taste of vodka and something behind it deliciously invading me. His kiss is brutal, rough, but controlled in a way that I feel almost overtaken. He grips the back of my neck forcing me to turn, and he takes the kiss even deeper his tongue entering and dueling with mine.
I try to give as much as I get, but he’s overpowering and a shock to my system. No man in my life has ever kissed me this way. No one had the confidence like Mason has, and he shows me he has it with each touch of his lips. His mouth should be named one of the wonders of the world. It’s like magic.
My hands grip him tight as his body presses into me, pushing me into the car. His other hand comes around my back and pushes my hips forward. When he does, I feel his hard cock straining through the confines of his slacks and let out a groan in his mouth. He feels so long and thick. Even the small twitches it gives off is hot at hell.
He pulls away, his forehead touching mine as we both pant for air. I’m not sure if that was a kiss or an out of body experience that I want to go on again.
“Come home with me.” It’s not really a question but more of a command. My body is way on board with this, but I’ve never been a one-night stand kind of woman. Even younger I kept myself to one man at a time in relationships, never just taking one home to have sex with them—ever. When I look into his green depths, they urge me and practically plead with me.
One night.
One night to let all my inhibitions go.
One night to forget and just feel.
One night to take.
One night.
One night to have fun and escape.
I blow out a shaky breath not believing what I’m about to do because it is so out of my realm, but maybe that’s what I need. A change. Go big or go home. “I need to make a call.”
His head jolts back like I punched him. “Husband?”
I glare. Seriously? “You think I’d go on a blind da
te let alone let a man kiss me in a parking lot if I were married?”
He chuckles, his grip on my neck going tight as he leans in. “Love that mouth of yours,” he rumbles low right before he kisses me again, knocking the air out of me and the sassy comeback I had on tap for him.
“Call,” I barely get out, but he pulls back. I grab my phone and dial Lila who answers on the first ring.
“Why haven’t you answered the phone!” she screeches in a panic, and I have no doubt she’s given Brad holy hell even if it’s not his fault. That’s the thing about the ones you love, you take your frustrations out on them. Now it’s my turn for hers, but I don’t have time right at the moment.
I look Mason square in the eye and ask her, “Can you ask Brad if he knows Mason Dean?” I’m graced with a wide smile that makes my knees weak and approval in his eyes.
“That’s Brad’s boss, Aiden. What’s going on?” While I knew that Mason was Drake’s boss and assumed he was Brad’s, it’s reassuring to have the confirmation.
“Is he a good man?” I fire at her and wonder if I should take her judgment considering Drake was considered such a standup good guy. I know in my heart, though, that she wouldn’t set me up for failure purposefully. I’m sure Drake has a nice package on the outside, but inside… I’m not so sure.
“Aiden, he’s a dick. Brad respects him, but he’s an arrogant asshole. Why are you asking me about him?” Her confusion is perfectly clear. All the while Mason stays exactly where he is, amusement lighting his eyes, no doubt hearing the conversation because of our close proximity.
“Well, he’s standing in front of me right now trying to convince me to go home with him.”
She gasps, “No! No, Aiden, you’re not that girl.”
“I know.”
Mason leans into my ear that doesn’t have a phone attached to it and seductively whispers in a low, taunting tone, “You’re that girl tonight.” He steps back slightly, but his heat arouses me like a lightning bolt ready to strike.