Chapter 12 #3
He was used to being admired by the female sex, but this was something wildly different.
Rebecca's eyes actually caressed him, her flushed face glowing.
He was alternately embarrassed and inflamed.
If he lost one more hand he be stark naked for her enjoyment and if he didn't she'd uncover another part of her delectable body for his. This was a no win situation.
You could both be winners his mind teased, but Mason pushed the thought aside and concentrated as best he could on his cards.
The hand she dealt him was the best he’d had all night and he didn't know what to do about it.
If he beat her, she was either going to take off her jeans or her shirt and he was almost certain she had nothing on underneath them.
If she removed another piece of clothing he wasn't sure he wouldn't do something to ease the raging fire racing through him.
When she lay down her two pair he folded up his full house face down on the table.
Rising slowly from his chair he towered over her and let his briefs fall to the floor.
Rebecca's mouth went dry. If she'd ever had thoughts of teasing him and then sailing off to bed they escaped her now.
He was truly mouth-watering, incredibly gorgeous.
The soft lighting accentuated his male beauty, shadows outlining the taunt muscles.
Her hungry eyes traveled down from his chiseled jaw and drank in the hair covered chest and flat stomach.
Dark hair tapered down from his chest and narrowed into a thin line past his trim waist. His legs were long and muscular and Rebecca actually felt faint from the power of her response.
She could sense the tension in him and wasn't sure if it came from anger at her deception or his own desires.
“Seen enough?” he inquired, eyebrows raised in challenge.
“Mason, I…” Rebecca swallowed, using the table for balance as she rose shakily from her chair.
Her trembling body gave Mason a small measure of satisfaction.
She was in as much pain as he and it pleased him that her little scheme had backfired.
Scooping up his clothes he advanced slowly toward her.
When her head was tilted back on her slim neck he bent and touched his lips softly to hers.
The quivering softness was almost too much for him but he managed to withdraw before it was too late.
“You win, Rebecca,” he said softly. A grin split his face as he turned to leave the room. “Sort of.”
Her nails dug into the table as she watched the sight of his taunt buttocks walking away from her and she all but wailed in frustration. This had not worked out at all as she'd expected. She was supposed to be the one to walk away leaving him seething.
“Mason,” she called hoarsely. When he paused she continued. “One more hand, winner takes all.”
He turned to face her questioningly.
“As you can see honey, you've already taken everything I have.”
“Not everything,” she whispered, sitting back down before she fell down and tearing her eyes away from the sight of him.
Confusion was the only emotion his mind was capable of registering right now and he walked back to the table, slipping his jeans on but not fastening them. Turning his chair around Mason straddled it, watching her closely.
“What are the stakes?”
“Well,” she began, wetting her lips and shuffling the cards, not looking at him. “We play one more hand. If you win I'll marry you and ...”
“Are you out of your mind?” he roared, almost knocking the chair over as he sprang to his feet and leaned across the table, so close to her their breaths mingled. “You don't decide something that important on a hand of cards,” he ground out.
“Wait, you haven't heard me out,” she shot back tipping her chair on two legs to give her some space. “I think it's a fine idea and besides you haven't heard your forfeit if you lose.”
Mason sat back down with a thud.
“I can't believe this,” he growled out. “All right Miss Smarty-Pants. Let's hear the rest of it.”
“If you lose,” she breathed, urgency in her voice. “We go into the bedroom and make love all night.”
“Now there's a hardship,” he spat back, raking a hand through his hair.
“Look, it's a way to settle things—that is if you still want to marry me.”
“You don't want to know what I want right now,” he all but shouted. Mason looked at her closely. Comprehension dawning.
“I get it. You've been on a winning streak and you figure it might last. If I lose you get what you've wanted all along, a physical relationship with no strings attached, and if you lose you can always cry off later.”
“No Mason. If I lose I'll keep my promise.”
“That you'll marry me?” he snorted derisively. “When in five years?”
“No! I’ll marry you whenever you want.”
“Boy lady, you want it bad,” he drawled sarcastically.
Rebecca almost backed out. His attitude wasn't what she'd expected and she felt the first fissure of fear, fear that he'd win…fear she’d win. She wasn’t sure.
Mason snapped the chair down to four legs.
“Deal.”
Her hands shook as she shuffled. Twice she dropped cards and had to start over.
“Having second thoughts, honey?” he drawled softly, an unholy gleam in his eyes.
“No, just a little nervous,” she answered.
“You should be,” was his reply.
Rebecca dealt the cards and held her breath looking at her royal flush of hearts in awe.
Mason scowled and lay down his hand. Two pair.
Rebecca weighed her options. If she showed her hand she would spend an incredible night in Mason’s arms. If she folded…a lifetime. She folded.
* * *
Rebecca was not a happy camper when the sun streamed in through the bedroom window. A glance at the clock told her it was still early and the one thing she wanted to do most at the moment was sleep.
It had been a long night of tossing and turning and only her pride kept her from joining Mason in the other bedroom.
The frustration she endured in the seemingly endless hours till daybreak more than punished her for her deception of the night before and all she wanted was a few hours of undisturbed rest.
She still couldn't believe that Mason had calmly informed her they would be married as soon as possible and kissed her good night, on the forehead no less.
Now the sound of deep masculine singing coming from the other room made sleep impossible.
The clatter of pots and pans seemed like an explosion in her tired mind.
Climbing out of bed she stomped out of the room.
Marching angrily into the kitchen she shoved her tangled hair out of her eyes and glared at Mason.
“Something wrong?” he inquired artlessly, taking in the clenched jaw and angrily tapping foot.
“Only that someone let a herd of bellowing elephants loose in here and I haven't had an hours sleep all night. Do you think it's possible to do whatever it is you're doing at this ungodly hour a little more quietly?”
“It might be if you asked me nicely,” he returned, crossing his arms over his chest, dark head tilted expectantly. His slate eyes gave nothing away this morning and Rebecca could have sworn he'd had a wonderful night’s sleep which further infuriated her.
Dressed in tight jeans and a cream sweater he'd already showered and shaved and looked vibrantly male and awake.
Ignoring him and the smell of coffee perking, Rebecca stumbled to the cupboard searching until she found a bottle of aspirin.
Without a word she brushed past him to get to the sink for water.
“We are in a nasty mood this morning, aren't we?” he asked turning away and giving the skillet of sausage a shake. While he was slightly amused by her temper, the sight of her slim legs and the sway of her hips did nothing to cool his still smoldering passions.
Rebecca swallowed the pills before answering. The thoughts that kept her awake all night flowed over her like the steam rising from the stove. Her level of frustration was so high her answer came without thought.
“I'm not nasty,” she informed him, hands on hips, head thrown back in challenge. “I'm tired, and the reason I'm tired is because I spent all night remembering the last time we slept together.”
Mason began to sweat.
“Remembering the feel of your hands on my body, the texture of your skin… “
Mason turned away and picked up the spatula, hands shaking as he played with the cooking meat.
“Remembering the taste of you, the smell of you, and the cloudy look that came into your eyes when you… “
She got no farther. Crushed suddenly in his arms she moaned softly into his mouth. The spatula skidded across the floor as he swept her totally off her feet. Rebecca’s head fell back in relief as he carried her from the room and buried his lips in her neck. “Finally,” she sighed softly.
Her own scream shocked her as she flew through the air and landed on the bed, bouncing several times. Shoving the hair out of her eyes she glared at Mason, struggling for names bad enough to call him.
“Get dressed,” he ordered sharply. “We're leaving.”
“How dare you,” she began, rising to her knees and searching for something to throw at him.
“Oh I dare honey. That and a lot more if you don't get your butt dressed and ready to go in the next ten minutes,” he ground out, hands on hips as he stared her down. “I've had enough.”
Rebecca swallowed any response she had planned to make. He looked enormous from her position on the bed, towering over her his eyes dark with passion and fury.
“Enough of what?” She asked softly. Fear closed her throat. Enough of her?
“I'm a man, not a plaything,” he shouted, raking his hand through his hair.
“I've explained the way I feel, but you just don't get it, do you?
I've offered you everything I have, everything I am and you, contrary woman that you are, aren't complaining it's not enough...
no you don't want it because it's too much.” Mason stomped into his boots, his movements jerky and quick.