Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Dara
Knock! Knock!
I don’t hear the voices on the other side of Wade’s office door until it’s too late. As I step inside the room, the two men look at me.
Wade is sitting at his desk looking more relaxed than usual. A man I think is Coy, but wouldn’t swear to it, sits in the chair opposite him.
“Good morning,” I say, carrying a cup of coffee and my camera with me.
“Well, hey, there. I’m Coy. I know there were a lot of people to keep straight this weekend.” He smiles warmly at me. “Here. Take a seat. I’m just getting ready to leave.”
“Oh, stay. It’s fine. I can even come back.”
Wade feathers a finger over his bottom lip. His gaze is soft but curious.
I think he needs a hug.
“Sit,” Wade says, nodding to the chair.
Outwardly, I give them a show that I’m only capitulating to his demands because I choose to. Inwardly? I wish he was asking me to sit elsewhere.
I take the empty seat next to Coy.
“That is a fancy camera bag,” Coy says.
“I’m a photographer. I took some pictures last week and wanted to show them to Wade.”
Coy smirks. “Sounds kinky.”
Wade narrows his eyes. “I know you just told me that you have somewhere to be.”
“Yeah. Bellamy sent me out to get some formula.” Coy makes a face of helplessness. “The baby lost a little too much weight, and the doctor wants to supplement her breast milk to try to counter that.”
“Does she have a lactation consultant?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I think. I will ask her, though. Why? Do you have kids? Do you know anything about this because I’m all ears.”
I laugh. “No. I just hear a lot of things with new moms, and I know lactation consultants are very much a thing.”
“I’ll relay that information.” He grins cheekily. “And if she already knows it, I look like a genius, caring father, and husband. So thanks.”
I laugh as he gets to his feet.
“See ya at Mom’s this weekend, right?” Coy asks Wade.
Wade nods. Then, slowly, he glances at me before switching his attention back to his brother.
“Hey, Coy,” Wade says, shifting in his seat. “Dara takes baby pictures.”
Coy looks at me. “Seriously?”
There’s not enough oxygen in the room with both Mason brothers looking at me at the same time.
Forget firefighter calendars. I wonder if their family would be willing to pose?
“I do,” I say carefully. “Families. Babies. Weddings. Apparently, retirement parties.” I shrug. “I don’t do dogs, though. I have limits.”
Coy laughs. “Well …”
He glances at Wade and seems to see what he needs to see. What that is? I have no clue.
“How would you feel about taking some shots of Kel? Bells has been stressing because the pictures she had taken in the hospital didn’t turn out very good, and she thinks the baby will grow up and hate her because there are only ten million phone pictures of him in the first month of life.”
I laugh.
“You can send me home with lactation consultants and a baby photographer session already booked.” Coy wiggles his eyebrows. “You’ll definitely help me get laid … like six fucking weeks from now.”
I look at Wade. He grins at me, and I take that as approval.
“I’d be honored,” I say.
“You’re the best. I’ll have her get with you and make sure we can all hook up at the same time. I’ll get your number from Wade.”
Coy pats me on the top of my head like you would a younger sibling. It makes me smile. Wide.
“I owe you,” Coy says.
“You’re paying her,” Wade warns.
Coy turns at the door. “Yes. I know. I’m not an idiot.”
“That’s debatable,” Wade mumbles.
Coy looks at me. “Good luck with him. He’s extra grouchy today.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say.
With a cheeky grin, Coy leaves and shuts the door behind him.
The energy in the room shifts as I twist in my seat to face Wade. He’s watching me in much the same position he’s been in since I arrived.
“Hi,” I say.
He drops his hand from his face. “Hi.”
We feel each other out, our lips forming slow smiles that are anything but professional.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to text me,” I say.
“I texted you Sunday night.”
“Yes. And today is Wednesday.”
“Were you not working?” he asks.
I sigh. “Yes.”
I wait for him to continue, to make his point. It doesn’t come.
“You know that it’s possible to work and text at the same time, right?” I ask. “Or is that why you texted me at five thirty today?”
He fights a grin. “You said you have something to discuss with me?”
“More like … show you.” Opening my bag, I pull out a folder and hand it to him. “Look at these.”
He takes the folder, sets it on his desktop, and opens it.
I hold my breath as he picks up the first picture of himself looking down the street in front of Judy’s.
It’s my favorite. It’s not my favorite just because his jawline is showcased and his lips are parted in the way that I now know they are just before he orgasms. I love the softness around his eyes and the curiosity in his gaze.
The way he looks as if he’s about to say something that will make me laugh.
Wade sorts through the images one by one. He studies each photo with the same attention, the same eye for design that puts me on edge.
He’s creative too. What if he hates my art?
“It was a risk to show you these,” I say quietly. “But I wanted you to see them. I think they turned out great.”
He holds the last image—the one where I just finished posing ridiculously and am laughing as I walk toward the camera. My hair is tousled from the wind. A flush paints my cheeks from being in front of the camera for once. I look … happy.
“This one.” He turns the photograph around. “This is my favorite.”
I blush. “Maybe you picked the wrong business because your camera skills are amazing.”
He chuckles and sets the picture down. Then he tidies up the stack and closes the folder.
“You really do have quite an eye,” he says. “I’m very impressed.”
“I had an excellent subject.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” I smile at him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
For a moment, he seems confused. Then he sits up so quickly that I jump.
He marches over to his drafting table and motions for me to join him. So, I do.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“This is a house I designed for a man in Portland a couple of years ago. It’s not exactly what you’re after, I don’t think, but it’s similar.
” He drags a hand down what I think is the front of the home.
“What I showed you the other night was just a sketch, but this is a bigger layout. I thought you might get a better idea of what the flow would look like if we continued with the concept we discussed.”
This is bullshit. I can tell. He’s talking too fast.
But am I about to complain? Hardly.
I’ve fantasized about being in Wade’s presence again. I’ve wished I could touch his body and watch his eyes darken. I’ve imagined him buried deep inside me a thousand times over. No complaints here.
“I love the open concept from the kitchen to the family area,” I say. “It reminds me of your house, actually. But without the fireplace.”
Wade pivots, squaring his shoulders to mine. “Did you like my fireplace?”
There’s an edge to his voice that’s an innuendo all its own.
I grin. “I will always remember the heat of that fireplace very, very well.”
He hums.
“I’m not averse to having one of my own,” I say, quirking a brow. “Maybe I can create lots of memories in front of my own fireplace someday.”
He cuts the distance between us in half. Towering over me, he looks down with hooded eyes.
“Do you remember what I said to you Saturday night?” he asks.
I know what he’s getting at, and so does my vagina, but I’m not giving in that easily.
“Not to take drinks from anyone but you?” I ask coyly.
“Don’t fuck with me, Dara.”
“But I like it when I fuck with you, Wade.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I told you, explicitly, that if you chose to let me inside you, things would change.”
“Yes.”
He holds my gaze. “And you acquiesced.”
“No, I asked you to fuck me, but thanks for making it sound so proper.”
He widens his stance, almost boxing me into the drafting table.
“I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t suggest that you might be fucking another man in front of the fireplace that I design for you or elsewhere.” His eyes grow darker. “Understood?”
My lips part as I haul precious oxygen into my lungs. Holy shit.
“I meant that maybe you’d bend me over whatever piece of furniture that I place there and would drill me from behind,” I say, fighting fire with fire. “But if you want to think about another man in your place—”
My words are captured by his mouth slamming against mine.
His hands cup my cheeks and hold me still.
I don’t think I could stop him if I wanted to.
Wade kisses me like he means it. Like he wants it. Like he needs it. And I return the touch with as much fervor as he gives.
Every swipe of his touch, dip of his fingers, pulse of his breath drives me wilder.
I yank his shirt out of his waistband and let my fingers roam his back.
He walks me backward until my back is against his drafting table, the edge biting into my skin. He presses kisses from my mouth to just behind my ear. Each motion is deliberate; each kiss is pointed.
“Wade,” I moan, giving him access to my neck.
A buzzing sound rings through the room.
“Mr. Mason? Your brother Oliver is on the phone.”
He stiffens and places one final kiss on the hollow of my throat.
He’s panting when he pulls back. “Shit.” His eyes are wild as he looks at me. “Tell him I’ll call him right back, Eliza.”
“Will do.”
We watch each other with ragged breaths, trying to regain our equilibrium.
Despite the number of times we ravaged each other just a few short nights ago, the fact that this got out of hand so quickly surprises us both.
“Well, then,” I say, straightening my shirt.
He tucks his back into his pants. “Dammit, Dara.”
“What? Don’t Dammit, Dara me. This is your fault.”
“My fault?”
I stick my finger in his chest. “You texted me to come here.”
“And you showed up wearing … that.”
His gaze roaming my body is like a match to a dry forest floor.
“You mean leggings and a sweatshirt?” I laugh. “This is hardly seduction material, Mr. Mason.”
He stills and grins. “You could wear a ski suit, and I’d still want to manhandle you.”
“I hope you’ll never hold yourself back.” I wink before turning back to my chair.
It’s clear that a couple of days apart did him some good. He missed me. And it was good for me too because I had some time to think.
Wade is worth taking a chance on. Me, the person who trusts no one, trusts him. I don’t really know what to do with that, but pretending it’s not true would be a lie.
The question is—will he take a chance on me?
I don’t know. But if I give him all the access he wants, he won’t.
Besides, I have work to do, and I’m not about to let my life get sidetracked over a man who might decide I’m expendable.
Like so many people in my life have chosen.
“I need to go,” I say, picking up my bag. “And you need to call Oliver.”
“Yes, I do. It’s about this Greyshell project that’s the biggest blunder in our company’s history thus far.”
I grin. “If anyone can fix it, it’s you.”
He dips his chin, but I spy his smile. “It’s not all in my hands, but I’ll do my best.”
“I have faith.” I head for the door with as much detached confidence as I can gather. “Call me sometime. But not before the sun is up.”
“Dara,” he says before I walk out.
I turn on my heel and take in how handsome he is.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a lot of bookings this week in the evenings?” he asks.
“I have one, I think. Tomorrow.”
I don’t ask why. I think I know, and the last thing I want to do is put him on the spot.
His phone buzzes again, and I give him a wave. He nods before flashing a smile that’s the brightest one I’ve seen yet and then picks up the phone.
I walk out.