Chapter 4 Mason #2
If I let her sleep at the bar and anything happened to her, my grandpa would murder me, heir or not. Not only would it be an insurance issue, that is not the kind of hospitality Tommy Grant would expect me to show a “stranded” young lady. I’d never hear the end of it.
But more than that, I don’t like the idea of leaving her here, or anywhere, in the state she’s in.
As if he’s reading my mind, Jace pipes up with “Well, there’s a couch at my place.”
Not this again.
“It’s much bigger than the one in Mason’s office,” he adds, “and more comfortable.” Somehow, he makes “bigger” and “comfortable” sound just wrong. “It’s next door to the bar—”
“My family’s property is right next to June’s,” I interject, before Jace can open his big mouth again. “We have space.”
I ignore Evan’s eyebrow-lift and Jace’s victorious smirk.
“Oh, wow. Really?” Sierra blinks at me. “And it’s not too much to ask?”
Just then, the music shuts off as my staff prepare to leave.
“I’ll walk you there now.” I give Jace and Evan a pointed look, one that says they’re going to help me round up all these drunk ladies and escort them over to their lodging, stat. “We’ll all head over together. And tomorrow morning, I’ll walk you over to June’s to get it sorted,” I tell her.
“Good luck,” Jace mutters. “June would shoot you any time of day.”
Fortunately, Sierra doesn’t seem to hear it. She gazes at me with something like awe bordering on hero worship glistening in her eyes. I try not to let it go to my head.
As we all get up from the table, she’s so focused on me that she trips on the leg of her chair, and I catch her. She smushes against my chest, again, as I pull her close.
There was really no need to pull her right up against me.
Just instinct.
Her hands go to my waist, her fingers digging into me. I tell myself it’s just the alcohol making her look at me like that; no need to get carried away with the adrenaline surge.
Once again, it goes straight to my cock.
“That’s really nice of you to walk me home,” she breathes.
“It’s either that or let Jace do it,” I can’t believe I hear myself saying. Maybe I am drunker than I thought. “Disappointed?”
She laughs a little and glances at Jace, as he and Evan rally the bachelorette party over to the door. “No.”
“Not interested?” I ask lightly.
Her eyes meet mine again, and my breath catches in my throat at the soft, boozy, truthful look she gives me. “In Jace? No.”
“No? How about Evan?”
She stares up at me. “Who’s Evan?”
“The other one.”
She still hasn’t broken eye contact when she says, “What other one?”
And I have to wonder if it’s the same for her—this magnetic force drawing her to me as everything else fades into an inconsequential blur. I proceed to get lost in her eyes for so damn long, the next thing I know, the entire bachelorette, my friends, and my staff have left the building.
We’re standing here alone.
“I think we’re the last ones left,” she whispers.
I let her go and clear my throat. “Let me just lock up.”
“Okay.”
She waits as I turn out the lights, then we walk out the front door together. I set the alarm and lock up behind us.
The parking lot is almost empty. Jace and Evan and I walked here earlier, knowing we’d be drinking. My friends are already making their way across the dark lot with the girls as my staff drive off into the night.
“This way,” I tell Sierra, about to head after them. But she catches my arm, stopping me.
“Hey . . . Mason? Thank you. For helping me out. But . . .” She glances at the group who are now making their way up the road, loudly, leaving us behind. Then she meets my eyes. “I know I flirted before. But I should probably just make it clear that we probably shouldn’t do anything tonight.”
“Anything . . .” I murmur, the mere suggestion of something making my cock stir. “Like what?”
“Like kiss goodnight. Or . . . anything else.” Her eyelids grow heavy as she looks at my mouth, and my gaze drifts down to her succulent lips. “I just want to say thank you now, so there’s no awkwardness. Or . . . pressure.”
I get that. It’s sweet.
She’s sweet, in a way I didn’t expect when she first walked into my bar.
I shift closer to her, and she leans back against the door, so we’re almost pressed together again. I place my hands on her hips, gently, and she makes no move to stop me.
“Well, as charming as it was being serenaded by your special rendition of ‘Hotel California’ while you stepped on my toes, you are drunk, Sierra Daniels. And I’d like to think I’m a gentleman.” I’m really, really glad my friends are out of earshot so no one laughs out loud at that one.
Sierra nods, biting her lip. “Yeah. I suppose that’s a very reasonable reason not to kiss someone.”
I smooth my thumb over her hip, slowly, back and forth. “One might even say gallant.”
A smile twitches at the corner of her lush mouth. “Plus, we are strangers.”
“Virtually.”
“Plus . . .” The smile disappears. “Today was literally the third-worst day of my life.” She dips her head, then peers up at me again. “So, you probably don’t want to be lumped in with that in the memory bank.”
“Probably not,” I say. And I wonder what made this day so bad for her. I wonder if she’ll tell me.
“Plus . . . I’m on a sexual hiatus.”
“Lots of reasons, then,” I agree as heat floods my body.
She looks away. Laughs.
I feel it, too. The total high of standing here with her in the dark, where anything could happen. There’s an unexpected euphoria pressing up against my lungs like an inflating balloon. My heart is pounding and I feel like I can’t quite catch my breath.
When she looks up into my eyes again, we stare at each other for so long, I’m not even sure what’s happening, or what’s about to happen. All I know is this woman is making my heart fucking race for the first time in years.
I don’t even want it to stop. I could have a heart attack right now and it would be worth it, just to see her looking at me like that.
“Could we forget I said that last thing?” she says shyly. “It’s personal.”
“It’s already forgotten,” I lie.
“It’s just that I’m on a relationship hiatus. That’s what I meant to say.”
I’m not sure that’s what she meant to say, but I’ll try to be a gentleman and not mention it.
The thing is, I’m really not that much of a gentleman.
“I promise,” I tell her, my lips so close to hers, teasing, that I can practically taste the blackberry gin. “No goodnight kiss.”
She takes a deep breath, shudders. “My last relationship ended pretty recently in disaster,” she explains, “so ‘no boys for the rest of the year’ seemed like a really smart decision . . . earlier today . . .” She fades off as we stare into each other’s eyes.
I lean in, closing the polite space between us, and everywhere our bodies touch there’s heat, electricity.
Arousal courses through me.
I’m overcome by the total rush of being this close to her, the mere inconsequential bits of clothing between her skin and mine, how close we are to actual fucking. A zipper, a peel of fabric, a shift of hips and thighs . . .
I know she can feel my erection against her hip. Stiff, unapologetic, thrumming with need. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as my cock throbs.
She lets out a soft sound of want and shifts her hips. And I know she’s feeling what I’m feeling.
I have never in my life been so one hundred percent sure that sex with a woman would be fucking amazing, for both of us, before I even kiss her.
She whispers my name. Her hand slides up the back of my neck, into my hair, her nails scraping against my skin.
My lips graze her jaw, and she shivers. “No boys, huh?” I murmur in her ear: “How about a man?”