27. Free Preview Next in Series. #2
His hand slides over my waist and then, deliberately, cups the softest part of my stomach. He spreads his fingers over it like he's claiming territory, and every fibre of my being wants to believe he means what he's saying.
“Is this what you think stopped me?”
His steely blue gaze locks with mine as his thumb drags slowly across my stomach.
"Well…" I give him a shrug that isn’t nearly as casual as I want it to be. “You did choose the exact moment my shirt was open to stop kissing me.”
“Rosie.” He growls, almost offended.
Then he leans down.
He kisses me again, higher this time, where my waist curves inward. Then he drags his mouth over the exposed skin beneath my bra, slowly retracing the path he abandoned.
“Believe me, your body is not the problem,” he murmurs against me. “I’ve been trying not to stare at these curves since the day you walked into the arena with a camera and told Beck his good side was the back of his head.”
A surprised laugh slips out of me. “He needed to hear it.”
The knot inside my chest begins to loosen.
He likes my body?
The insecurity tries to drain away, but something worse takes its place.
Because I know exactly where this conversation is going.
We’ve had it enough times that it should have official minutes by now. There should be a conference table, assigned action items and Colin joining remotely from a golf cart.
Unfortunately, every kiss we've shared in the past two months, ends with the same disappointing resolution: Mason's dick remains inside his pants, and my vibrator continues carrying the entire Pearson household sexual workload.
I sigh and look into his eyes. “You’re worried sex will make this complicated?”
“No.” His thumb drags across my bottom lip. “Sex isn’t the complicated part.”
“Excellent. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”
“The complicated part is that your father trusts me.”
I roll my eyes again. “My father also thinks I need roadside assistance to cross the street. That doesn't mean we should care what he thinks.”
He leans forward until his forehead rests against mine, his hands still flexing around my hips like they strongly disagree with every responsible thought happening inside his head.
“We can’t do this, Rosie. Not yet.” His eyes close briefly. “We’re already pushing every line there is, but once I cross that one with you, I can’t pretend this is harmless anymore.”
I watch his face change before my eyes.
He says with you. Not sex in general. Not a casual hook-up two adults could laugh about later.
With me.
“What makes you think I want harmless?”
Mason’s eyes open again. “That’s the problem.”
He doesn’t elaborate, but I understand anyway.
I feel it whenever we kiss, or in the way he holds my hips.
I feel it every night he's stopped by and just…
sat with me while I worked. This is the same man who has been bringing me food, remembering my deadlines, and still somehow knows when I need a chocolate-orange shake instead of salted caramel without ever asking.
I know Mason wants me.
He just doesn’t want to betray my father to have me.
A sigh leaves my body again.
My whole life, my father has been the deciding vote on whether I'm worth the trouble. Now the one man who I actually feel different around is still letting Jack Pearson chaperone us from three miles away.
I get Mason's loyalty. I do. It might be one of the things I like most about him. But just once, I want a man to want me louder than he fears the complications that come with me.
The thing is, I'm not asking for a relationship. I'm not asking him to walk into my father's office and announce anything. I'm not asking for a jersey with his number or a key to his place or a conversation about where this is going.
I'm just asking for him. Right now.
That's it.
I want him to bend me over this desk, shove the sponsorship proposals onto the floor and fuck me. Preferably while spanking my ass hard enough to make sitting through tomorrow’s staff meeting a genuine workplace challenge.
My father doesn't have to be involved in... whatever this is.
Nobody has to know. Nobody has to get hurt.
Two adults who clearly can't keep their hands off each other should simply do something about it.
Right?
I take a deep breath, look at Mason and let every thought rattle out.
"Do you know how long it's been since I had sex, Mason?"
Mason's eyes widen and he clears his throat. "I'm not sure I want to answer that."
"Well, then let's just say my vibrator is eligible for long-service leave."
His hands tighten on my hips. "You have a vibrator."
I can't help but laugh, because it's not a question. It's an accusation.
"Most women do, Mason. It's not a scandal. Trust me, with the kind of men left in the dating pool these days, it's basically considered a compulsory household appliance."