Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  “Mason?” Her voice held laughter, happiness, magic.

  “Sit.” He patted the shirt.

  She sank down next to him, long legs stretched out alongside his. Even in the dim light, her eyes sparkled. He leaned in and she met him in an open-mouthed kiss, no reservations. Nothing holding them back. He turned his body toward hers, hungry to feel more of her.

  “Maybe we should go back to the room?” she whispered, so low he almost didn’t hear her over the crash of the waves.

  “Not yet. Lie down.”

  “Here?” There was a thread of panic in her voice.

  “No.” He slid his hand up under the gauze dress and cupped her breast.

  Both he and Hannah stared at his big palm covering her. He slipped his thumb under the cup and around the underside of her breast. The strap slid down her shoulder, allowing the rest of her top to easily slide to the side, exposing her tightly furled nipple.

  He bent his head and licked her through the sheer fabric.

  Hannah gasped and her back arched, thrusting more of her into his mouth.

  Sensitive nipples—check.

  Before the end of the night he wanted to know every part of her, where she liked to be touched, what made her hot and bothered, and how she sounded when she came.

  Her hands slid over his head, twirling the strands of his hair. He rubbed his tongue over the aroused flesh, sucking lightly.

  “Mason.” His name was laced with all that need. Now if he could just record that and play it over and over again.

  He brushed imaginary sand from his fingers and cupped her mound, applying just enough pressure for her to rub against.

  Hannah leaned back onto her elbows, head tipped back, legs parted. A sensual buffet—just for him.

  Mason tugged her top down around her waist, baring both breasts. She was perfect, every inch of her amazing. And beautiful. And for this short span of time—his.

  “Mason,” she whispered.

  “You’re so damn pretty.” He kissed her cheek and curled his fingers over her mound, finding her folds through the swimsuit bottoms.

  “Am I?” Her voice broke.

  “Hell yes. I’m about to come just looking at you.”

  Her breathing hitched.

  “I don’t have a condom with me. Can I touch you here?”He nuzzled her cheek and flexed his index finger. Her breathing hitched again, proof he’d found that needy, swollen button. “I promise to keep my dick in my pants.”

  For now, at least. Later he couldn’t make such promises, especially when he knew there was at least one condom in his bag.

  They were so close he could feel her heart beat thrumming in her veins, the catch of her breathing, the little tremor shaking her body from head to toe. Did she want him that bad? Was it the same for her?

  “Hannah? You can say no.” Just because her body said yes, it didn’t mean her head did, too.

  “No—I mean—yes.” She closed her eyes. “I’m just, I mean I’m not...”

  “It’s okay to be nervous.” He slid his hand up to her waist. Too fast, too soon. They’d switched gears so many times, he couldn’t blame her for not being ready.

  “I am. Nervous, that is.”

  “What? You?” He chuckled. She was the girl who could glare down surly SEALs and keep the little old ladies in line. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

  “What?”

  “I’m nervous, too.”

  “You are not.” She swatted at his shoulder, her breasts jiggling.

  He leaned in and kissed her lips, long and slow. She stretched out on her back, her hands roving over his shoulders and chest.

  “Mason.” She said his name like a plea. “I want you.”

  Hannah bit her lip immediately.

  “You can tell me to stop at any time, okay?” For some reason his gut told him it was important she hear those words, that she knew even in the midst of passion—she could say no. And he’d stop. He might die of blue balls, but he’d fucking stop.

  She nodded.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  Hannah was full of passion when she kissed, all feeling and raw lust. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and pressed her lips to his. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, tangling with her every move.

  Mason slipped his hand past the waistband of her bikini bottoms and cupped her, skin to skin. Her hips arched, seeking more, but he didn’t move. Didn’t seek to penetrate her. Yet.

  He kissed down her neck to her breasts. She thrust her chest up.

  “Is this one lonely?” He circled her right breast with his tongue.

  She whimpered, her knees drawing up, opening her legs wider.

  Survey said—Yes.

  Mason slid his fingers back and forth over her folds, collecting her wetness before circling her clit. The little mewling, needy sounds she made at each pass had his dick twitching like a puppet on a string. Damn, he wanted in her, but later. After he’d tasted her.

  “Your tits are so sensitive,” he muttered against her chest.

  Hannah made some kind of sound in the back of her throat, full of lust and desire.

  He circled her clit with his thumb, over and over while her body tensed tighter and tighter. Her folds were slick with arousal, coating his fingers and palm. He finally slipped one finger inside her, working it in and out while her body twitched.

  “Christ, Hannah, you’re so damn hot,” he said into her hair.

  “Oh—oh, Mason.”

  He pulled out of her and pushed up to his knees.

  Laid out like that, with only the moonlight covering her, she was so damn gorgeous. And his.

  Mason hooked his thumbs into her bottoms and pulled the swimsuit down, off her legs and jammed them into his back pocket. He nudged her knees open wider, his gaze locked on the apex of her thighs, where a small patch of blonde curls tried—and failed—to hide her desire.

  He lowered to the sand, careful to keep at least his right hand off the ground.

  Hannah stared down at him, her lips still slick and puffy, her eyes locked on his.

  Christ, he was a goner.

  Mason licked the length of her folds, delving into her with his tongue. She dropped back to the sand on a long groan.

  Music to his fucking ears.

  Her hips lifted, seeking release. He spread her labia open using his right hand. So pretty and pink. He thrust his tongue into her, sealing his mouth over her opening, tasting her in the back of his mouth. Her panting breath mixed with the roar of the ocean, urging him onward.

  Mason kneaded her ass with his left hand, letting her use his palm for leverage. He shifted with her, determined to give her this. The warm sand nestled his aching cock, so close to blowing his load in his shorts right now.

  Hannah’s heels dug into his back, her hips moving in little circles. Her thighs squeezed him, holding him prisoner while he rubbed the sensitive nerve endings with the flat of his tongue. The mindless sounds coming from her were a goddamned turn on. He wanted to drive her crazy. To make her forget everything but here and now.

  Mason lifted his head, sucking in a deep breath, and plunged two fingers inside her. Her hands covered her breasts, fingers tugging at her nipples. Seeking her pleasure.

  Fuck yeah.

  He bent, sucking her clit. She moaned, her breath hitching, spine bowing upward. He gently flicked the nub back and forth while curling his fingers deep within her, seeking that hidden pleasure spot.

  Hannah cried out and her body tensed around him, rippling, for lack of a better word. Yeah, there probably wasn’t a person on the beach who didn’t hear her near scream of pleasure. He held perfectly still while she came apart in his arms, tasting her cream.

  Fuck, he wanted to do that again.

  5.

  Hannah’s legs wobbled, her whole body practically vibrating.

  What the hell had Mason done to her out on the beach?

  She knew what she thought had happened, but was that mind-blowing, melting crescendo o
f...she didn’t even know what to call it, but she’d felt it from the ends of her hair all the way to her toenails.

  Her vibrator had never given her an orgasm like that before. Whatever he’d done was a full-body experience that had her still short of breath and tingly in places she didn’t know could tingle.

  Mason’s grip tightened on her hand as he led her back to the room. Her feet and clothes were still wet from the impromptu wash off they’d done before entering the hotel. His stride was a little wobbly, but then again, after what he’d done, she’d be shocked if he wasn’t the teensy bit affected, too. Though as far as she could tell she was the only one who’d gotten anything out of the little tent adventure. And oh boy, was that an adventure.

  They careened around a corner, almost running into one of the hotel porters.

  “Sorry,” Mason said with a grin.

  She sputtered a laugh behind her hand, giddy for no real reason. Was this what orgasms did to people?

  The porter merely stared at them, not the least bit amused.

  “Sorry, man.” Mason held up his free hand as they passed.

  The porter did not give him a high-five.

  “Are you drunk?” she said under her breath. It was hard to tell if the light-headed sensation was due to the earlier alcohol or Mason’s talented tongue.

  “Who? Me?” Mason peered down at her. His eyes were a little bloodshot, but that could be from any number of things. The alcohol, the flight, all the hours he worked. She wasn’t ready to make a judgment based on red eyes.

  He sidestepped into her on purpose, nudging her off balance. She yelped, her center of balance tipping too far to the right.

  Mason’s arm wrapped around her waist and he twirled her, right there in the hallway, grinning. She’d never seen him smile like that before. The sight of him—happy—fluttered something deep in her breast. Had she put that smile there?

  “Yes, you.” She clung to his arm as he straightened them out, more or less, and started walking again.

  “Drunk—no. Tipsy—chances are likely.” There were a few too many slurs in his words, but again she couldn’t really judge.

  Mason dug a keycard out of his pocket and the arm around her waist tightened.

  They were going back to one of their two rooms—and having sex. She highly doubted he wanted to play paddy cake.

  Her mouth went dry, her stomach buzzed with nerves, and a tremor swept her body as she felt the remembered touch of his rough fingers on her breast. Her vaginal walls tightened, clenching on nothing—but she remembered what he’d felt like inside of her. At least his tongue and his fingers.

  Crap, was this a good idea? Should she tell him? What if he backed off? Some guys got weird about the V-card. At least one guy had dumped her over it, too freaked out to even discuss it. If she didn’t tell him, was tipsy sex going to hurt? What if Mason thought because he’d...he’d done what he did out on the beach, it didn’t matter if sex was good for her?

  Mason’s hands wrapped around her arms, and he pushed her up against the door to his room. The breath whooshed out of her lungs as he pressed his hot, hard body against hers. His warm breath fanned her cheek.

  And was that—?

  Yes, she was pretty sure that was his...his erection pressing against her hip.

  Fear and excitement mingled together, warring for dominance. His lips latched onto that spot, the one at the juncture where her shoulder met her neck, and sucked.

  Someone—wait, was that her?—moaned. Loudly.

  Her knees tried to give out on her, and if it weren’t for Mason’s big body propping her up, she might have become a puddle on the floor. The rush of blood past her ears drowned out everything else. Arousal pumped through her body. Her nipples tightened, aching to feel his fingers. Her toes curled into the carpet.

  Holy hell, yes!

  The door beeped and Mason fumbled with the handle. She staggered backward into the dark room, his arm around her waist. Laughter bubbled up her throat, a mix of nerves and excitement.

  Her best fantasies paled in comparison to reality.

  He shoved the door closed with a heavy thud, plunging them into relative darkness. The balcony curtains were open, spilling in moonlight, bathing the bed in a silvery glow.

  His hands were everywhere, touching her, tweaking a nipple, getting tangled in her cover-up. It was too fast—and not fast enough.

  Was this what she wanted? To feel like a starving person rushing toward a feast? To jump in with no life preserver?

  She wasn’t sure she could stop the forward momentum.

  Mason grasped her ass in both hands and hauled her up against his chest. She clung to his shoulders to keep from losing her balance.

  This was happening.

  “I want to fuck you so bad,” he said against her cheek.

  His words set her heart galloping. What did that mean? Would it hurt?

  He gently lowered her to her feet. She felt his muscles trembling under her palms, much the same way her body shook.

  “You make me lose my head, Hannah. I can’t think about anything but you.”

  His words were raw, as if they were ripped from deep inside. Nothing between them was one-sided. He felt things, too.

  She clutched his face in both hands. Those words could be hers. Every day, every time she went to the gym, he was in her thoughts. If he was there, she wanted to know how he was doing, if his leg was giving him any problems, where he’d been. If he was gone, she needed to know where he was. She’d often have to excuse herself for a moment to breathe past the panic of not knowing if he was okay. Somehow, with no more than a little time spent together, they’d become entwined on a level so deep that not being near him hurt.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, as if that would somehow keep the feelings bubbling up inside her at bay.

  “Now you know how I’ve been feeling.” Her voice trembled, but so what? He was being honest, why couldn’t she?

  “We shouldn’t say those things.” His fingers traversed her lips.

  “Why not?” She blinked back the tears he couldn’t see. Damn her father. “If we’re pretending this weekend, why not say what we want? It’s our only chance.”

  “I can’t resist you, Hannah. I’ve tried.”

  Shit, she was going to cry at this rate—so not sexy.

  “But that’s the point, we don’t have to resist. Not now.” She rubbed her hand across his jaw, his stubble rasping across her palm.

  Mason grasped the hem of her damp cover-up and pulled it over her head. It was completely transparent, it didn’t actually cover an inch of her, and yet without it she fought against the urge to shield herself. Except Mason had already seen most of her in an up-front and personal kind of way.

  He dropped the garment on the floor and stepped in close, pinning her against the closet doors. The light streaming in through the glass doors on the other side of the room was just the right amount of illumination, leaving enough darkness for her to hide her fears in. That sex might hurt. That she could do it all wrong. That he’d figure out she’d never been with a man before.

  She wasn’t going to tell him.

  Somewhere between the beach and here, in this moment, she’d chosen the path of least resistance. Of not telling him.

  It was her secret. Her truth. But she wanted this to be about them. Not her.

  Hannah gulped and her gaze slid down to his mouth, breaking the soul-deep eye contact. His tongue slid slowly across his bottom lip.

  She hooked her arm around his neck, finding his mouth with hers. He leaned into her, shoving one thigh between her legs. Even that touch sent a zing of want through her. Some innate, primal instinct drove her to hike a leg up over his hip, opening herself to him, pulling him closer. She shifted, their bodies rubbing against each other in the most delicious way. Each unintended stroke ramping the desire up a notch.

  Mason’s hand covered her breast, squeezing the mound in his big palm.

  He dropped his head to her shoul
der, his breathing like the crashing of waves outside. Her head spun and her still-weak knees trembled.

  “I’m...” Mason sucked in a deep breath and released her breast. “I’m going to wash my hands real quick.

  “What? Why?”

  “Sand.” He chuckled.

  There was a connection there she wasn’t making. Then again, her brain was slowly shutting down all functionality as her entire being focused on one thing: sex. With Mason.

  He grasped her knee and eased her foot back to the floor then stepped back.

  She remained propped against the wall for fear of falling.

  “I’ll be right back.” He backed into the dark, yawning mouth of the bathroom.

  She nodded, words beyond her limited ability to communicate.

  It must have been enough because Mason closed the door a second before the light flicked on.

  Hannah blew out a breath and straightened. Her jellied legs managed to hold her weight well enough. She staggered a few steps into the room, one shaking hand over her mouth.

  This was a moment she’d always remember. The night she gave up her virginity. She’d long since stopped treating the idea of physical “purity” like some sacred thing. It was a state of being, a name society bestowed on women to keep them in a box. A box she’d willingly lived in for way too long. And tonight—it was her choice to change that outdated status. That it was with Mason was what would make this act special.

  Then why did she feel so...mushy? She’d never had a name for what she felt for Mason. It’d always seemed different, new, and unrequited until now. Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready to name it, because if she did, then there was no going back. No pretending this was a simple weekend fling. An itch to be scratched.

  The bathroom door opened, casting bright yellow light against the closet doors and reaching into the depths of the room, toward her.

  Hannah turned and froze.

  Mason stood in a rectangle of light—naked.

  She’d seen naked men before. But she’d never seen him naked.

  That was supposed to go in her?

  She gulped and took an instinctive step back toward the bed.