by Cara Scott
FOR ALWAYS
Mason & Maura Part 2
A Gemstone Romance
Cara Scott
Scott Books
Copyright © 2020 Cara Scott
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Cara Scott
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Discover my Gemstone Series. Small town love set in the beautiful mountains of Wyoming. Follow the loves and lives of the men and women of Garnet Junction, Jade Creek and the glamorous Diamond Springs Resort.
Contents
FOR ALWAYS
Copyright © 2020 Cara Scott
Join Me!
Contents
1
Mason
2
Maura
3
Mason
4
Maura
5
Mason
6
Maura
7
Mason
Epilogue
Maura
Mason
About the Author
Mason
Are you really so afraid for me to kiss you, Maura?
She’s just survived me frisking her. I reckon, she should be able to manage a simple kiss without falling apart.
She scoffs at me with an unladylike snort. “Huh, bring it on.” She gives me a considering look. “Okay, it’s a deal. You don’t follow through with the charge in exchange for a long, slow, wet kiss…with tongue.” She draws it out in a mocking tone. “But that’s it. Just a kiss. No feeling me up. And it happens somewhere private, where no-one can see us.”
I make a show of considering and then give her a piercing look. “Okay, but no more reckless driving.” I eye her firmly. “And you agree to a civil discussion about a realistic strategy for you and the Gemcor case.”
My tone is pure controlling, alpha male, but there’s no way she can miss the tender concern lurking behind it. Regardless, she flashes me a reproachful look.
“I guess,” she offers grudgingly. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”
She’s right. She pretty much has to accept my offer. She can’t risk a charge of reckless endangerment. I don’t feel guilty. Whether she’s willing to admit it or not, she really could use some support over that case and what it’s doing to her.
She meets my gaze and makes a show of conceding to my demands. “Fine.”
My eyes light up. I’m finally going to follow through on my feelings for her. Finally get to hold her, feel her curvy body hot against me. Taste her plump, sensual lips. My pulse pounds at the prospect. I put my arm around her shoulder and lead her to a secluded doorway. “Private enough?” I ask.
She looks around, checking it out. It's the middle of the day. That lull in the early afternoon when business is slow and places are deserted before the evening rush. The doorway is deep and leads down a short tunnel with two steps up to a padlocked back door. She nods, silently. Her voice has disappeared.
I turn her toward me, take her wrists gently in my hand, and ease her further into the tunnel until she’s backed against the wall. I stand in front of her, so my body shields her from view should anyone step in the doorway. I move against her, close but not too close, just enough to let her feel my warmth. I’m close enough that I’m aware of her vulnerability. She has to look up, bending her head back, straining her neck to meet my eyes.
I lift her off her feet, wrap my arm around her waist and fit her into the curve of my body. Resting her head on my shoulder, I put my foot on the raised second step and bend my leg. Lifting her, I settle her carefully on my bent knee. I lean her back until she can feel the door supporting her. Cupping her nape and the small of her back with either hand, I tilt her head. She looks into my eyes without any strain.
My voice holds a soft heat as I murmur against her hair. “Get comfy, sweetheart, I intend to take my sweet time kissing you and I want us to be able to look full on at each other while I do.”
I stroke the back of her neck under her hair. I hear the sound of our breathing. It gradually adapts until our rhythms match. I can tell that the feisty part of her wants to tell me to get on with it, but it's a part of her that has no place here. She closes her eyes and lets it go without regret. I feel cocooned in the moment, treasuring it with a sense of lyrical anticipation I’ve never felt before with a woman. We’re about to communicate on a profound level. It almost scares me. Like it’s too much. I haven’t even touched her lips yet.
I nuzzle her neck, trail my tongue to her ear, flick around the shell and fill it with the wet tongue I promised. I shiver as something sweet and hot uncurls inside me. I will her to look at me again. She does and I tell her in a thick, husky murmur.
“You’ve no idea how often I’ve wanted to kiss you, Maura.”
I want to tell her that I’ve longed to kiss her since the day we met, but I’ve already admitted enough. I can’t go that far. And I'm too mesmerized by the electricity coursing through me when I flick my tongue at the corner of her lips. My mouth covers her in a deeply, drenching kiss, sucking her in. My tongue circles the inner core of her lips before plunging hot and wet inside. It invades her and swirls slowly, sweeping her inner cheeks. Tongue meets tongue and electric tingles shoot through us. Sucking her tongue with mine, sparking an undulating rhythm, I groan deep against her. Her groan matches mine. How typical that she should make sounds so guttural when still only at first base.
Maura Michaels is going to be noisy in sex. I should've figured that. She’s soon moaning and shimmying against me. She thrusts her tongue in my mouth and her body close toward me. How stupid we’ve both been not to open to each other, not to surrender sooner so we could taste each other long, long before this.
You don’t have to kiss me back.
Yeah, like we knew that was gonna happen.
Her whole body is alert to me. My erection is pulsing hard against her. Her breasts are full against my chest. True to our agreement, I only kiss her. But I do it again and again. She welcomes my thrusting tongue. I let her set the rhythm. The rhythm goes on and on as we kiss long and deep, sweet and hard. We fall closer and deeper into each other than if we had fucked for hours. Finally, we let the kiss end, resting forehead to forehead as our breathing takes an eternity to regulate.
Her stomach makes a very audible grumble, breaking our spellbound state. Laughter vibrates through us. We feel it before we hear it.
“Okay, Maura, honey. Let’s get you fed.”
I pick her up off my knee, plant a quick, firm kiss on her lips and set her on her feet in front of me. I point her out the doorway towards the diner. I wonder if she's as moved by our encounter in the doorway as I am. She sneaks a look at me. She quivers at the heat of the possessive, tender look I fire back at her. She stumbles and I catch her and steady her. Placing my hand at the small of her back, I guide her towards Ginny’s.
Maura
Mason’s hand at the small of my back ushers me through the diner door. His light touch sends electric tingles rampaging through my body. I don’t look at him. Our encounter in the doorway and that fierce, possessive look he shot me, have made me suddenly, deeply shy. He leads me to his customary booth in the back corner. It's relati
vely private and will shield us from prying eyes and ears. I conquer my shyness to look at him. I flash him a grateful glance, feeling a guilty flip in my belly at his look of surprise.
As we reach the booth, I ask. “Am I really that prickly?”
He gives me a straight, honest look. “Pretty much.” The teasing fondness in his eyes returns. “On your good days that is.”
I lean across the table, look up at him under my lashes, and ask in a husky whisper. “Did you really think I might knee you in the groin or spit in your mouth if you tried to kiss me?”
He looks at me across the booth. He's sitting at a side-angle, his arm across the back in a relaxed pose. His eyes darken, satisfying me that he's not immune to the power of the moments in that doorway or my softened self. He nods, a wry husky note in his voice. “Yeah, and/or bite my lips.”
He sits forward, his voice and look serious. “Don’t you? You’re feeling uncharacteristically grateful-soft, whatever, towards me right now, Maura. You don’t often feel or act that way, lately. Think about it. How would you have reacted if I tried to kiss you during one of our bouts this past year?” His look bores into me. Then he turns from me, places his arm across the back of the seat and looks away from me to the board with Ginny’s specials.
Good question. Shocked for sure. Enough to knee him in the groin or bite his lips? Maybe. During one or two of our major bouts? Definitely.
I look up. He's watching me sidelong at the same time as studying the specials. His sardonic smile and shake of his head shows he observed my deliberations cross my face and knows he's not far off the mark.
“I’d never spit in your mouth!”
He throws his head back and laughs aloud, a fond, unrestrained appreciation. My whole body feels licked in flames. He's just way too attractive in this mode. Part of me wants my recent adversary back, but not a big enough part of me. This is the Mason of my college crush and excited dreams. I want to enjoy him for a little while at least. The heat increases from embarrassment when Ginny arrives to take our order and overhears my comment and his laughter.
Her look is disapproving. I'm already in her bad books for a number of reasons. The Gemcor case, my recent tendency to rely on junk food rather than eat her home-cooked meals and, last but certainly not least, my recent attitude towards everybody’s favorite, Detective Mason Johnson. My comment only compounds this last crime. Not surprisingly, my spitting in his mouth is laden with her disapproval.
His laugh is the kicker. Her biggest beef with me is that she knows, like everyone in town, that Mason has feelings for me, but he's smart enough not to pursue them. Like I told Ava, it's generally recognized that the weird, too independent, bull-headed Michaels girl is not good enough for the darling of the Gemstone Trifecta. The whole region breathes a collective sigh of relief every time he consistently demonstrates his commitment to resisting my inferior attraction. The fact that he has brought me here, we're not at odds and he's laughing fondly at me will soon be relayed to all gossip spots in town and be hotly debated.
Ginny reaches the booth and talks to Mason, angling her body away from me. “Hi there, Mason.” Flashing him a big smile, she turns and gives me a perfunctory nod, then turns back to him. “What can I get you? My meatloaf is a good day old!”
He smiles at her. “Sounds great, Ginny. Two orders, then. Heaps of your great gravy with two glasses of milk and we’ll have some coffee as well.”
“Sure thing, Mason. Decaf?”
He nods and she moves off. I debate objecting to him ordering for me without even asking. But Ginny’s day old meatloaf is to die for. The second day of a meatloaf is always the best. Ginny makes great gravy, and milk is my preferred dinner drink. Mason never has anything other than decaf when he's working, but I feel like I could do with a strong cup of real coffee, so I call after her.
“Make mine the real thing, Ginny, please.”
He frowns. I can tell he's considering calling after Ginny to counter my order. “How many cups have you had today?”
“Only a few.” I lie. I don’t count my coffees, but I know I'm way past a few. I don’t care. I want my coffee and I don’t want to argue with him about it.
“Fine. You can have one. Then decaf.” Before I can protest, he offers me an explanation for his edict. “You’re not sleeping well, are you? It may not be the root of your problems, but too much coffee won’t help.”
You’re not sleeping well. How does he know?
He reaches over with one hand and tucks my hair behind my ear. The gesture melts me and I unfurl towards his logic. The change in my response to his protectiveness hits me. I realize with a shock that the encounter in that doorway was far too profound an experience for me. I start to feel a bit sick. Here I am being stupid about him, reading too much into a few kisses. It was probably just a bit of fun to him. I look out the window, turning my head when tears start to form at the back of my throat. What am I thinking, giving into my daydreams about him?
You have no idea how often I’ve wanted to kiss you, Maura.
The way he said that, the way he kissed me, it seemed more than just a bit of fun. Am I just a coward, afraid to hope because I’ve too little sense of self-worth to imagine that he wants me the way I want him? Maybe it's time for me to step up, go after what I want and be damned. What’s the worst that can happen? His explicit rejection can’t be any worse than the implied rejection of not acting on his feelings. That’s what hurts the most. It isn’t that he doesn’t share my feelings, it's that I don’t meet his standards. Or the rest of the town’s standards for him.
Maura Michaels, Little Ms. Not Good Enough, that’s me. Starting with my absent parents, too strict grandparents, the townspeople I serve as an officer of the court, right up to the only man I’ve ever felt strongly about. Go on admit it, Maura. The only man you have ever really wanted. As soon as I looked up into his concerned eyes, that first time, that was it. I was off the market. I clench my hands into fists on my lap, wishing I could screw up the courage to look up and let him see how I really feel.
Ginny arrives with the coffees. I grab mine. I wrap my hands around the steaming mug, drinking down most of it, still not looking at him.
Mason
I cross my arms and look across the booth at Maura. She’s avoiding my eyes, but it has little effect on my resolve. The events of today, especially that kiss, have shifted our dynamics completely. I’ve seen a side of her I could get used to and tasted enough of her to want more. I don’t want to backtrack or let either of our issues screw it up. I reach over and take her hand in mine, turning it palm upwards. I’ve never held her hand like this before. I'm amazed at how tiny and yet how strong it is. Contradictory as always. I stroke the base of her wrist.
She gazes at me warily and takes a sip of her coffee, but doesn’t try to pull her hand away. I reward her with a slow, deeper massage of the pulse point of her wrist. Her acceptance of my caress encourages me and I grow bolder. Under cover of the table, I slide my hand along her thigh. She shifts and arches towards me with a little moan so inviting I’m sure she's no idea she’s doing it. I get so hard, I can barely see straight. I can hardly focus enough to acknowledge Ginny when she places our order in front of us.
“There you go. Two meatloaf and two milk. Kelly will top up your coffee. Enjoy your meal.”
After all the crazy roller coaster mood shifts going on between me and Maura, I expect her to struggle with her appetite. But no, she eats steadily. The look of enjoyment on her face tells me the meatloaf tastes awesome. She drinks the milk. I can see it goes down real smooth. I reckon it cools her raw throat and screwed-up emotions. We eat for several minutes in silence. A comfortable, quiet peace settles across the booth.
The muted buzz of her cell startles the quiet. She automatically reaches for it, until she remembers I took it from her back at the car. I pull it from my pocket and flip the pink leather cover. I look at the screen and see her timed divert has run out. Her face drops and I watch her appetite die
right there. She puts her fork down and looks across at me.
“I’d better take that.”
My face darkens when I see the caller ID. It's one of the many opposing counsel for Gemcor. I expect now she’ll start to get the deluge of calls that swamp her most days since she took the case. She swallows, tenses and then reaches out for it.
Pressing end, I shut the power off, flip the cover back over and lay the phone down on the table beside me, just out of her reach. “Finish your meal.”
She stares at me open-mouthed. “You can’t do that. It could be important.”
“It won’t be. They’re stonewalling you. Inundating you. Wearing you down. Standard tactics with these corporate bastards. Fucked if I’m gonna watch them put you through it anymore. Finish your meal and then you phone Stevens and tell him you're off the case. You do not back down until he agrees. He gives you too hard a time, you give me the phone. I’ll take care of it.”
She stares at me. My suggestion unnerves her so much, she blurts out her unguarded thoughts. “Shit. That just sounds so appealing.” She licks her lips and lowers her lashes, her voice almost a whisper. “He gives me too hard a time…you’ll take care of it.” She takes a deep breath. Her lashes lift. She looks back up at me, her face full of doubt. “If only it were that easy.”
I smile at her. I’m determined to convince her. “It is that easy, sweetheart.”
“He might fire me.”
“Even better.”
“Fine for you to say. You won’t be the one losing your job.”
“The job sucks. You know you hate it, honey. You don’t need it. Go back to your own practice. You were happy there and you left a void. Those people need you and trust you. Your reputation is still solid with them.”