He reached out blindly to place his cup on the counter and then, hands free, wrapped me in his arms, pulling my body into an arch against him.
“I have to go soon,” he muttered against my mouth.
“Then we should be quick,” I said softly.
I walked him backwards through the hall, slowly feeling our way into the lounge, and then he fell back onto the sofa and I climbed right into his lap, our mouths coming apart for hardly a second.
He spread his hands on my hips, pushing up my shirt with an agonizing slowness until he pulled it over my head and tossed it.
Next he unhooked my bra, slipping both straps off my shoulders and following with his mouth, kissing a damp path over my collarbone. I arched my back as he cupped a breast and opened his mouth around my nipple, sucking softly and grazing every-so-slightly with his teeth.
I shivered and sighed, my hands buried deep in his hair.
Gently, I tugged him towards my mouth, urging his shirt off to join mine on the floor. I stroked the tight skin covering his ribs, around the front to his abs, all of him hard and sinuous, so hot to the touch.
I rolled my hips downwards and felt his cock in his jeans. It was becoming a pretty familiar sensation, addictively so, and Justin’s words assaulted me again.
Be careful.
I swatted them away. There were worse addictions to have.
Mason groaned into my mouth, reaching down to grip my thighs under my skirt. He urged me up onto my knees, hooking his fingers into the band of my panties and pulling them down. I slipped out of them one leg at a time and they joined our growing pile of clothes on the floor.
The friction of his jeans against my aching pussy felt incredible, and I rolled my hips again, grinding against him.
“And you call me a tease,” he gritted out, his fingers digging hard into my sides, roaming up my back. It was like he didn’t know where to touch me first.
I smiled at him, raking my hands down his front. My fingers stroked across the bulge in his jeans, popping his button and freeing his cock, fully swollen already, into the circle of my fist.
All my ability to tease went out the window. The sight of him made me desperate for that fullness, and I rose up on my knees, positioning us before sinking slowly down onto him.
Every inch made his breath come harder, made my walls stretch and throb. Fully seated in his lap, I laced my fingers together at the back of his neck and tipped our foreheads together, just breathing in his air.
Nothing could feel better than this. I didn’t even want to move, savoring this moment of quiet closeness before Mason had to run off again and start a battle that might very well be the end of him.
I was afraid—of losing him, of him getting hurt, of all this going wrong and these men, these villains, coming after me and my family. Our lives were in his hands, the hands that carded through my hair and cupped my face so gently, that held my hips and breasts so reverently.
“Tell me this is all gonna be okay,” I whispered.
“I promise,” he told me, kissing my mouth, my cheek, beneath my ear where I was sensitive.
I rolled my hips slowly. “And afterwards?”
“I can’t see beyond that, Taryn,” he said desperately. “It’s too cloudy, there’s so much that’s going to happen between now and then.”
“Can’t you come home? Just for a day or two?”
He moaned, shaking his head. “And have to say goodbye all over again?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and couldn’t answer, slicking my tongue into his mouth and rising off his cock before sinking back down again. He broke away from the kiss, gasping against my jaw, and I did it again, getting into a drawn-out rhythm that felt almost trance-like.
He palmed over every inch of me he could touch, bringing my breasts to his mouth one by one and teasing my nipples with flicks and strokes of his tongue. I held his broad shoulders for leverage, moaning and sighing into his hair, telling him his name over and over.
A steady pressure built at the core of me. Mason pushed up where I came down, and between us we moved like partners in perfect harmony, fitting too damn well to be anything other than together.
It was a thought that came out of nowhere, unexpected and startling but sticking in my head and driving me dangerously close to climax.
“Mason,” I moaned, unable to say anything else. Maybe I was trying to warn him, I didn’t know, but my spine arched and I clung to him with my hands clawing the back of his neck.
My muscles spasmed around his cock. I threw my head back, my legs and stomach seizing, and Mason held me and fucked me through my orgasm, groaning and tucking his face into my throat.
He came right after me, his breath stuttering against my skin and his hands erratic on my body. I ground my hips down helplessly, still thrilling with sensation, and tipped his face up towards mine desperately to kiss him.
I love you, I thought hysterically.
Don’t leave me, I wanted to say so bad it stuck in my throat like a cough.
I stayed silent, though, opening our mouths together and trying to convey this avalanche of emotions with a kiss.
He held and kissed me fiercely and I knew he felt the same.
“Stay the night,” I finally blurted, my voice shaking. “Just leave in the morning and stay the night.”
“I can’t—”
“You can leave early; it’s only half a day.”
I could see that he wanted to say yes. His yearning expression made me ache. I knew if I pushed him again he’d give in, but I didn’t want to push. It had to be his decision.
Eventually, after an agonizing handful of seconds, he nodded. “Okay.”
I smiled, but it felt fragile and bittersweet. If Mason pulled this off and Carl Monroe and his goons were wiped out, there was absolutely no guarantee Mason would come back. If he didn’t pull it off… well, I could hardly bear to think it. I felt like I was begging for one last night with a death row inmate. This prolonged goodbye might have been worse than a short, sharp rip of a band aid, but it was a goodbye nonetheless and, even if it hurt, I knew we deserved it.
We never got a real goodbye all those years ago. Tonight I would make up for that.
“Let’s go to bed,” I murmured.
And Mason half-smiled in agreement.
Chapter Twelve
Mason
I spent the night worshipping and mapping every inch of her body, and she mine.
We lay in the tangled sheets and barely spoke a word, making conversation with our bodies instead, and when the sun rose, I watched it play across her milky skin through the open window, the sweet-smelling grass and garden below something I committed intently to memory for my journey.
In the morning, I showered and dressed and finally took that takeout coffee cup Taryn offered last night.
“Any regrets?” she asked me, the front door open and the pair of us stood at its crossroads.
I smiled and shook my head. “Not a damn one.”
She leaned up to kiss me, so fierce and possessive I almost stumbled. Right there for the whole neighborhood to see, Taryn laid a claim to me I didn’t think I’d ever shake.
“Be careful,” she told me. “That’s not a sentiment; it’s a goddamn fucking demand.”
I almost choked on a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
I couldn’t hide how touched I was. All those petty things I’d worried about, my insecurities over her feelings, the regrets that racked me every day, even my nightmares—Taryn had chased them away through the night. She hadn’t needed to say a word.
We’d had the goodbye I’d robbed us of ten years ago.
I headed down the garden path with the feeling that it could’ve been enough.
I loved her, and I would kill men for her, but sometimes love meant walking away for the better.
At least I’d said goodbye.
I climbed into my car, still packed with my stuff from the hotel I’d checked out of yesterday, and gave Taryn one last glanc
e before I drove away.
As far as I could see, she didn’t close the front door until I was well out of view.
I had to stop thinking about her. I had to get my job head on, become focused and stone-cold—the Mason I’d left behind in New York just a few weeks ago.
A couple hours into my journey, I called my girl to set up a proper meeting.
“Amanda? It’s Mason.” I stuck my phone on speaker and set it in my lap. “I’ll be in the city by mid-afternoon.”
“I get off work at five, so I’ll meet you after,” she said. “There’s a café on Main Street called Sorrento’s.”
“I’ll be there.”
I’d have time to get a hotel room, unpack some shit, and have a power nap. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night and I was exhausted.
The landscape changed from my rickety little hometown’s uneven skyline to lush green fields and bright summer trees, and from that to dusty hills sloping into jagged cliffs, clay-brown colors everywhere. I followed the less-than-well-kept highway right over the state line and through the sparse little ghost towns and sprawling farmlands, finally entering my destination city.
By the time I pulled up at a decent hotel, my eyes felt full of grit and there was an ache blossoming under my ribs. I knew exactly what it was, and I couldn’t believe how fast it’d come on.
I already missed Taryn.
I chalked it up to tiredness rattling my defenses and face-planted on my hotel bed, only just managing to set an alarm on my phone before instantly passing out.
The whine of it dragged me awake at four PM, pulling me groggily from a deep and, thankfully, dreamless sleep.
My bags were still strewn everywhere and I had to rummage through them to find a clean shirt to change into.
I grabbed my jacket and headed for the café.
Amanda was already there when I arrived, sitting at a little table for two. The place was fairly rustic looking, an authentic Italian feel to the place. The coffee smelled good and strong and I ordered one.
“Hey, stranger,” Amanda said, as I took my seat.
“Hey, yourself.”
She was still attractive as ever, slim and tall with wavy blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun at her nape. I knew what that hair looked like spread out over her pillows, but I hadn’t let that particular detail slip to Taryn.
Although, knowing her intuition, she’d probably figured it out anyway.
Why hadn’t I, though? We weren’t a couple or anything. If she was sleeping with someone else, I’d have no right to interfere, and it wasn’t like neither of us had a past.
The thought, though, even just the fleeting glimpse of it, made my blood boil and that ache in my ribs grind tighter.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I’m fine. Long drive on very little sleep.”
“You never did sleep well,” she reminisced.
“I need your help with something,” I said, cutting straight to the point. “I know it’s abrupt and it’s real messy business, but you were my first choice to ask.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Amanda quipped, and then her face turned serious; she must’ve been reading something grave in my expression. “Mason, what is it?”
“A message I need you to get delivered. From the Thornes’ shipping company to Carl Monroe’s guys.”
She looked at me, shocked. “Monroe?”
“It’s best you don’t know too many details. This can’t be traced to me. If it is, I’m as good as dead.”
“Wow.” She visibly struggled with this information. I kept my gaze fixed, unblinking, on her, mounting the pressure. It was a sketchy tactic but it usually worked. “Um. Specifically, what do I have to do?”
I explained it to her quietly, even though the café was mostly empty. “Feed a meeting for some merchandise through your company to Carl Monroe. It has to be good merch, though. Top quality stuff, the kind he’d wanna pick up in person. I just need Monroe’s camp to believe there’s a meeting, that’s all. You don’t have to do any more than that.”
“Why?” Amanda stressed. “You can’t ask me to do this and not tell me what the consequences are.”
“I’m gonna kill Monroe,” I said bluntly.
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re what?”
“You heard me.”
“Why can’t you just fake a meeting, why do you even need me?”
“I’ve been given a job from my boss, courtesy of Monroe.” It felt oddly refreshing to talk business with someone who understood that words like merchandise and job meant a hell of a lot more than they did on the surface. “I need this meeting to get rid of everyone who’s loyal to the guy, and I need your bosses to take the fall.”
“There’ll be a war,” Amanda said roughly.
“It won’t affect you.”
I knew that wasn’t entirely true and so did she. “Our shipping guys already have the FBI looking for ways in. You want Monroe’s lot shooting at them, too?”
“It’ll be fine.” I put my hand over hers on the table and watched her expression soften; she still had a thing for me and I wasn’t above using that to get this shit done. My family was at stake here; I’d play as dirty as I needed to. “When I’m through, there’ll be nobody left inside Monroe’s operation loyal enough to him to give a fuck about the Thornes. They’ll be thanking them.”
“Why do you hate Monroe so much?”
“It’s… personal.”
I put a bullet through the head of this woman’s father; she knew all about personal. Amanda nodded, turning her hand palm-up against mine.
“Okay. I’ll filter the message through the right people and get it to Monroe. By the time I’m done, it’ll be like Chinese whispers and nobody will be able to say where it came from.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling myself relax for the first time since I watched Taryn’s skin light up with the pink sunrise. It felt like a lifetime ago. A whole other life ago. From there to here, how much I’d already changed again. I felt both more and less comfortable in my skin, more certain of myself but so much less happy.
Amanda’s hand felt warm and soft under mine, though, which was something. It was a temptation. I could take it, if I wanted it.
“Are you sticking around?” she asked hopefully.
“I got a hotel a few blocks away. I’m waiting on a name from one of my guys, someone I want your message to go specifically to.”
She nodded, smiling lightly. “We could grab some dinner? Maybe a few drinks?”
I stared at her. Sure, she was pretty and good-natured, and years ago we’d spent a whole summer fucking and drinking and living it up whenever I passed through the city. Her appeal hadn’t changed in any way.
It was me who’d changed. Her skin didn’t feel right against my fingers. Her hair wasn’t the right color. Her voice wasn’t the right cadence.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I could use some sleep.”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t do that,” she drawled enticingly.
It couldn’t be a betrayal when a commitment didn’t even exist. Taryn and I had parted ways with only the promise that I’d protect her. If I dragged the stench of Monroe’s blood back to my hometown, to my little girl, I’d be staining everything I touched with it, including Daisy.
If this was to be my life again, I had to start living it like I did before I made my journey back home. It was the only way I’d survive.
“Dinner and drinks sound good.”
Amanda grinned. “Great.”
Her grin promised all sorts of things but all I felt was a twisting sense of wrongness curling in my gut. It felt like that was a snake in there, coiling and poisonous.
I struggled to smile back, but I knew it must look more like a grimace. It certainly felt like a grimace.
“That’s not the look a girl wants to see before a date,” Amanda said shrewdly. “What’s going on?”
“I…” Met someone? No, that wasn’t
right. “There’s someone.” I cringed; this wasn’t coming out right. “There isn’t, but there is.”
Amanda huffed a laugh. “Well that sure explains it.”
I laughed, too, feeling ridiculous. “Yeah. It’d be nice if I could.”
She cocked her head, studying me. “I guess dinner’s a no-go, then?”
“I left her,” I said.
“There’s someone but you left her?”
Coming out of another person’s mouth, it sounded absurd. “Yeah. I’m sorry about dinner.”
“Hey, don’t be. It’s been a long time, Mason. Things change.”
“Sometimes I wish they didn’t,” I contemplated out loud. “Things were simple, and I liked simple.”
“Simple is why I stay unattached,” Amanda mused.
“That was the plan. Now everything’s all mixed up. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Me neither. You’re a man who used to say very little, Mason Baldwin,” she marveled. “But I tell you, this introspective chattiness? This is pretty new.”
I pulled a face. “Is it?”
“Yeah. The Mason I knew never talked about his feelings. Whoever this someone you left is, she’s certainly changed you for the better.”
Was it really that blatant? Had Taryn altered me so fundamentally that even a woman I barely knew outside of sex and wild nights had seen the difference in the time it took to have coffee?
It was—unexpected. I sat feeling pretty damn dumbstruck.
I realized, with a jolt, that I was actually analyzing the feeling. That was definitely not my nature, but now it came as naturally to me as breathing. The desire to be the man Taryn deserved had brought out that boy of seventeen in me, the idealistic and focused young man I’d been before all the killing and the cash. I recognized that now.
“Don’t stress yourself about it.” Amanda shrugged. “Like I said, everything changes.”
“People keep saying I can’t live this life forever.”
“You could, but the guys that do? They’re the Thornes and Monroes of this world.”
“You’re a wise woman, Amanda,” I huffed. “Maybe we should get that drink—strictly no-sex, of course.”
“You think you can control yourself?” she goaded.
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