24. Callie
Chapter twenty-four
I shift down under the sheets, getting comfortable as I try to read more of my book—a dark romance I pinched off my brother’s shelves. I figured getting lost in a story would be a good way to distract my mind from thoughts of Mason.
After the girls came over last night, and texting with him, I started to feel better.
Okay, he’s still my boss, but romance happens in the workplace all the time.
And we didn’t just hook up like it was some sordid affair, even though it was probably the single hottest thing I’ve done in my entire life.
Over the last few weeks, we’ve gotten to really know each other. I think that’s why I wasn’t in my head as much as I expected to be, considering I hadn’t been with someone in a while.
Something about Mason feels so safe and secure. I trust him, and that in itself is terrifying.
Between my dad and my ex, this year has not given me reason to put my faith in men.
But my mind refuses to put Mason in the same category as them.
Actions and words are everything, and Mason doesn’t hesitate to show how he feels.
He makes me feel brave enough to try and do the same.
What we did wasn’t some impulsive act between two unthinking people…
Okay, it was a little impulsive, but it was also inevitable.
I am little nervous about what things will be like when we’re back at the house on Monday.
When I looked Mason up after my interview, there was plenty of evidence of him enjoying his bachelor lifestyle.
A woman on his arm, a drink in his hand, and that signature smirk that hooks up on one side.
The one that made his eyes crinkle with mischief.
I’m fairly confident Mason is a guy with a sizable number of notches on his bedpost. And hey, we all have a past. I can’t help but wonder if he flirted with them the same way he did with me last night.
Did he look at them the way he looked at me right before he kissed them?
Did he beg for more? Make them feel like his touch was special to them, something only they would ever know?
I reread the last sentence of my book when the low rumble of a car pulls down the driveway, lights sweeping across my closed blinds.
The engine cuts out, followed by the closing of a door. I assume it’s a neighbour, but then I hear a light tapping against my front door.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s just after eleven p.m.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I throw the sheets back, quietly padding to the window. Pulling back the blinds, I see a sleek sports car sitting in my driveway. There’s only one person I know who could drive a car like that and be knocking on my door at this time of night.
I pull the front door open and Mason stands on the other side, his closed fist still hovering in the air, ready to knock again.
“What are you doing here?”
His chest rises and falls steadily as he stares at me, a soft smile pulling on one side, before he steps inside. His hands frame my jaw, and he breathes me in as he kisses me sweetly, savouring my mouth.
My eyes fall closed, melting into him, as my hands reach up and circle his wrists.
Mason drags himself away from my lips before leaning his forehead against mine.
“Just as I thought.” He smiles.
“What did you think?” I ask, trepidation rattling the words as I struggle to make sense of his sudden arrival.
“One time was never going to be enough. Not when the feel of you in my arms, the press of your lips,” he kisses me again, “the scent of your perfume, make all the doubt go away.”
Is he saying what I think he is? “You had doubts?”
“Not about wanting you.” He shakes his head firmly. “About not making you mine.”
A grin stretches across my face so wide, it pinches my cheeks. “Yours? How very forward of you, Mr Heart.” My smile falters. “What about work? We might be playing a dangerous game crossing that line—more than we already have.”
“I think I might want a little trouble in my life.” He stares deep into my eyes. “Callie, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” he says, his finger flexing against my jaw. “But now that I know you, I’m not sure I can let you go.”
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to hear in my life. A reverence I’ve always craved. “So don’t.”
Mason tilts his head, his beautiful, mismatched eyes caressing me with an air of devotion. I step back, tugging on his hands to follow.
“Don’t let me go,” I say, with such confidence it may as well be a demand.
“Are you sure?” he asks, even as he stops to shut my front door, then continues to let me lead him to my bedroom.
“Undoubtedly.”
With a relieved smile, his body aligns with mine, his arms encircle my back, and he embraces me. He holds me so tightly, there’s no room for second-guessing. I have to believe his earlier words; he doesn’t want to let me go.
My body comes alive with his touch, my hands running over his biceps and shoulders, aching to consume every part of him.
I make no effort to move, just let him hold me as he needs to, my own body sinking into the comfort of his arms. I’m not sure I’ve ever been held like this, so simply yet longingly.
I’m not inexperienced. I’ve had partners beyond my ex, but it’s amazing that Mason can still give me so many firsts when it comes to intimacy, to love.
His face turns into my neck. He takes a deep breath and runs his nose along my skin, making it prickle. The sensation travels to other places on my body—over my chest, down my spine, between my legs.
“I love the way you smell,” he whispers, then presses a kiss to the side of my neck.
I reach behind him, closing my bedroom door.
The room feels dense, surging with untapped energy that I don’t know how to explore. Again, I’m filled with those questions: Where does it all go from here? What do I want or expect from it? What does Mason want?
“Where’s Navie?” he asks quietly, searching the room.
“Upstairs,” I say, watching my fingers as they brush over the fabric sitting against his hard chest. My insides turn to mush not only when he pays attention to me, but to my daughter as well.
“Hey,” he says, a hand under my chin, tilting my face until I can look him in the eyes.
He tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear, pressing a kiss along my jaw.
“Just because I’m in your bed, doesn’t mean we have to do anything further.
I’m down to snuggle,” he says playfully, leaving another kiss behind my ear this time.
His other hand plays with the hem of my tank top, his fingers lightly drawing across the skin at my waist. “Don’t underestimate how much your company means to me.”
My fingers run over his arms, up and down like a slippery slope that matches my thoughts.
How long I dreamed about the feeling of being so deeply wanted, not just in body but in mind and soul.
Of all the places to have found that sense of fulfilment, it feels too good to be true with someone as exceptional as Mason.
His charm, his generosity. The ability to hold so much wisdom and opportunity, untroubled by the implications.
The power and status of his family don’t go to his head.
His money doesn’t make him entitled. Instead, he’s soft and intentional.
Hard-working and charismatic. Nurturing to the point of extreme safety.
It’s him who underestimates his effect on me.
“I wasn’t expecting to have these feelings for you,” I confess, making him grin.
“Do you want me to apologise? Cos I’m really not feeling sorry about that.” His fingers grow more curious and daring as they trail from my waist to my stomach, teasing the waistband of my shorts.
“You have feelings too, though, right? This isn’t just—”
He places a finger against my lips, halting the question. “This is not a fling to me. This isn’t casual. I more than like you. Anything you want, anything you need, I’ll prove it to you.”
“If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”
A smile tugs at his mouth. “Always.”
I grip the sides of his T-shirt, tugging upwards until he lifts his arms, letting me take it all the way off. His gold chain looks sinful against the smooth muscles of his chest.
“If I asked you to touch me, would you?”
His eyes flutter shut as he swallows. “Always.”
My hands go to his belt buckle next, slowly pulling the end from the loops. “If I asked you to make me yours? To fuck me, and hold me afterwards?”
“Then I’d be unstoppable in resisting you.”
I take my hands off him, moving to the hem of my tank top instead, and in one swift motion, I tug it over my head, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my cotton sleep shorts. He knows what I want. The rest should be his choice, and I almost need it to be him to make the next move.
His mouth crashes to mine as his hands scoop under my arse, and he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, hands buried in his hair so I can hold him to me as our lips and tongues explore.
He lowers me to the mattress, our bare chests smashed together. The heat and weight of him are intoxicating, and the need for him spreads through my veins like a cure. Everything feels alive, renewed, powerful.
I thrust my hips up, frantically searching.
For someone who had no trouble foregoing sex for a year, the desperation Mason evokes shatters my senses, and the only thing left is him.
The way his lips linger at the end of every kiss.
The way his hands move so unhurried as they roam my body, like he’s committing me to memory.
When I roll my hips against him again, he grips my hip. “Wait.” My body stills. “I just need to say something first.”
I nod, twisting my fingers in his hair.
“I told you yesterday it’s been a while for me.” Something I still struggle to comprehend. I’m certain it’s by personal design rather than a lack of opportunity. “I got myself a little treat, and I’m yet to experience it fully.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.” I’m certain I’m not.