Chapter 16 - Cass
Cass
The chill of the rink clung to my skin long after the kiss ended. My lips still tingled, swollen with heat and want, but the rest of me felt exposed. It was like the cold had finally caught up to me, seeping through my jacket and straight into my bones.
I stared at my phone, Mason’s breath still warming the space between us, and I didn’t move. Not until the screen went dark again.
Dad.
The word echoed in my head like a warning shot. But for once, I didn’t run toward it.
Not when I could still taste Mason on my lips, with my heartbeat trying to crawl out of my throat.
His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t ask. Just gave me a look that said enough. He knew what declining my dad’s call meant. We both did.
And we were fine with it.
“Now what?”
I slipped my phone back into my jacket and looked at him, still breathless. The heat in his gaze thawed me from the inside out. “What do you think?”
A grin curled the corner of his mouth, but before he could say anything, I grabbed his hand. We weaved past empty benches and half-dried skate marks on the concrete.
Outside, the night hit us like a slap in the face—cold, dry, and sharp.
“I’ll drive,” Mason said.
My keys were already in my hand, so I couldn’t help but laugh. “In your cute little Neon?”
“Is there something you want to say to me, Cass?” He did a horrible job at feigning insult.
“I just did. Get in.” I popped the lock on my car, and Mason jogged around to the passenger side.
When he slid in and shut the door, the space between us crackled. Not from something banal like static from our clothes, but from the promise of what was about to happen. The thrill of doing it in secret.
By the time I started the engine, I couldn’t feel the cold anymore.
I drove with one hand clenched tight around the wheel, the other resting too close to his knee.
Something played softly on the radio, but I couldn’t have said what it was.
The only sound I focused on was the breath between us, like it was holding the night still.
“We’re really doing this,” he said when we got to my apartment building. As if it had only just occurred to him.
He sat looking straight ahead, hands flat on his legs. Thinking. If I paused too long, really gave myself the chance to take it all back, I probably would have.
So I hurried out into the cold instead. “We’re doing this, Calder. Get your ass inside.”
He followed me inside, eyes on my back, silent as a shadow. I ignored what I could, trying to avoid his hesitation from seeping into me. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t to stop.
“Cute.” His eyes swept over my place. Quaint living room and quaint-er kitchen beside it. My latest assignment was strewn over the coffee table, forgotten.
“That’s one word for it,” I replied. “But it’s home.”
Mason gestured toward the thrifted bookshelf crammed with hockey biographies and dog-eared novels, looking impressed. “I read this one last year.”
He was about to go over and pull it out, when I tugged his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Huh?” And he seemed honestly confused.
I huffed a laugh and guided him purposefully until his back met the closed front door. “Why are you still talking?”
His mouth was on mine in the next second, hot and demanding, no more small talk.
I rose up on my toes, arms wrapping around his neck as I pulled him into me like it would make the world stop spinning.
Mason’s hands gripped my waist and spun me around, flipping positions, and slamming me hard against the door.
He leaned in with his full weight, letting his warmth shiver through me.
I let out a shaky breath. “Take it off.”
The questioning hesitation that had been with him all night was gone now. Mason stepped back and pulled off his jacket. I kicked out of my boots, watching as his shirt went next, revealing bruises—new and old—along his ribs and shoulder.
“You’re a mess.”
He smirked. “Heavy is the head…”
“Careful that ego doesn’t turn you into an insufferable ass.” My shirt fell to the floor, and I fell back against the door.
Mason closed the distance again, his bare chest burning against my skin. “Can’t fool me, Cass. You like it.”
God help me, I did.
I slipped under his arm and moved toward the couch, keeping eye contact with him the whole way. He chuckled softly, then followed. Like I knew he would. When I sat down, he leaned down and caged me in with his arms.
“Cass,” he said, soft and rough all at once. The way he looked at me…
I was seconds away from being devoured, and I wanted it more than anything.
“What?”
“I don’t want to do anything you’re going to regret in the fresh light of day.”
“Stop talking like a country song and get over here.”
I pulled him on top of me, one hand around his neck.
His weight settled between my legs, mouth finding my throat, my collarbone, the place just beneath my ear that made me moan.
My hands were greedy as they roamed his back, mapping every muscle, every mark from his previous wars on the ice. He hissed when I grazed a fresh bruise.
“Sorry.”
His fiery gaze locked on me. “Don’t be. I like it when you touch me.”
I swallowed hard.
He kissed me again, and my fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, anchoring myself to the only thing that felt real and good. My tiny couch made every move clumsy, but we didn’t care. We kissed until I forgot my name, until I couldn’t feel the space between us anymore.
His hands brushed over my bra, lingering at the point where my stiff nipples pushed up. Every inch of skin was a new discovery, and I was consumed with it. When he lifted me into his arms, I didn’t protest. Just dipped my face to his neck as he carried me to the bedroom.
“What else do you want me to touch?” I asked as he set me down on my bed. Mason stood just in front of me, the evidence of his arousal bulging in his pants.
I grazed his hard-on with the lightest touch, and he let out a stifled groan.
It was clear what he wanted, but seeing him all worked up like this was too good to waste.
I kept my touch barely there, ghosting along the waistband of his sweats.
His breath hitched, hands flexing at his sides like he was debating whether to grab me or not.
“I swear to God, Cass…” he rasped, voice wrecked and full of warning.
“Swearing already?” My eyes stayed glued to his as I hooked a finger just under the band. I didn’t pull, didn’t push. Just dragged it slowly along his skin, watching the muscle twitch low on his abdomen, his breath going ragged.
“Don’t play with me.” The desperation in his voice got me instantly wet. I was done for. But he didn’t need to know that just yet.
“Why not?” My breath played against the trail of hair just above the line of his pants. “You like games, don’t you? And you like it when I touch you. You said so yourself.”
His fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough so I’d look at him. “I do. Too much.”
Good.
I pressed a soft kiss just below his bellybutton, then rested my cheek there, breathing him in. His skin was warm, damp with heat, and the tension in his body radiated like a storm about to break.
My mouth moved lower, lips almost grazing over the bulge right there. I paused, letting my breath tease him through his pants.
“Cass…” His grip tightened slightly, his hips barely restrained from moving. “Please.”
The word cracked something open inside me.
And still, I waited. Traced the length of his waistband again, slower. A promise. A question. Torment.
“Tell me what you want,” I said, voice low, lips brushing the skin. I was torturing him, and I wanted to hear him say it.
“You,” he groaned. “God, I want you so badly I can’t think straight.”
I finally looked up at him, and saw the sheer need in his eyes. It echoed the ache between my legs with glaring likeness. One I couldn’t ignore for much longer. His hand was still threaded through my hair, and the other trembled slightly as he cupped my cheek.
I turned my head and kissed his palm.
Then I slid my fingers under his waistband again. This time with purpose. Mason gave a small, involuntary sound. And it was everything.
I eased his pants down over his hips, watching the tension coil through his muscles like a taut wire. His cock sprang free, already hard and flushed. I took in all of him. Every inch was sculpted and strong, pulled tight under the weight of restraint. He wasn’t touching me, and I didn’t know why.
“Are you just going to stand there?” I demanded.
He laughed, but it broke off when I wrapped a hand around him. My grip was firm enough to make the tendons in his jaw twitch, and his hands fly to my waist.
“I need—” His voice was all choked up with fire.
“I know.” I kissed his collarbone, stroking his cock in a slow, teasing motion. “Me too.”
I guided him back onto the bed and straddled his thighs. The heat between us was unbearable now, electric. He reached up and snapped the clasp on my bra with little effort. As it dropped, so did his gaze.
“Jesus.” His tongue came out to wet his lips, and he palmed my breasts without a second thought. His thumbs brushed over my stiff nipples, and the sensation rocketed through me like fireworks. I gasped, hips pressing forward of their own accord.
That did something to him. Even though I was still wearing my underwear, his gaze darkened and he lowered a hand to grasp my thigh. I rocked against him, the delicious friction making us both groan out loud.
“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered.
I kissed him like I’d missed him for years instead of minutes. “Not until I fuck you first. And if you’re any good, I might just keep you alive.”
He bit his lower lip, bracing himself as I slid my pussy back and forth along the length of his hardness.
The steady drag of that flimsy fabric barrier against his hot, pulsing cock was maddening.
Every nerve in my body sang with the flames he conjured up, threatening to steal the very breath from my lungs.