by Kaylea Cross
Blatant desire.
He raised a dark eyebrow, his cocky attitude coming back. “You think I can’t resist you?”
He was probably teasing, but she couldn’t tell. Was he messing with her? He was so convincing earlier and now he was all smoldery and putting her on edge again. “Can you?”
His lips curved. “I can…”
The way he trailed off like that left the unspoken question but will I hanging in the air between them. “Fine. What side do you want?”
“Whatever side you don’t.”
“I don’t have a side. I usually sleep in the middle,” she said, heading for her suitcase.
“What? Who sleeps in the middle of a king-size bed?”
“Me.” Because it had been too lonely sleeping on one side with the other empty after she’d left Doug. “But I’ll make allowances for this weekend.”
She crouched to open her suitcase and took out the un-sexiest set of pajamas she owned, a pair of pink flannel jammies with kittens on them. A Christmas gift from her nephew. After changing into them in the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she emerged and came to an abrupt halt when she saw Mason.
He was lounging in the armchair facing the fire, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting on his flat belly as he watched her. The flames flickered over the planes of his face and the muscular contours of his chest and shoulders.
Her belly flipped, her breath catching as heat flooded her system. For a second, she couldn’t move, or think.
Shit. Maybe she was the one who would lose control.
She cleared her throat. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
She hurried past him and up the stairs to the loft, threw back the covers on the wide bed and crawled across to the side nearest the window. The bathroom door shut downstairs.
She lay there staring up at the wooden beams framing the ceiling, her heart beating faster. This was dangerous. She already wanted him. Having him lying a few feet from her all night was going to be torture.
The bathroom door opened. Her heart picked up speed.
He came up the stairs slowly, and a little jolt traveled through her when he appeared at the top of them wearing jeans and a T-shirt, those sexy tats revealed on his forearms. Her favorite was the JTF2 emblem on his right arm—a half-globe and half a red maple leaf melded together with an upraised dagger between them, and a scroll beneath it framing the unit motto: Facta Non Verba.
Words, not deeds.
It said so much about him and the kind of man he was. And she couldn’t stop imagining what he looked like underneath his clothes. Couldn’t stop remembering the feel of his muscular arms around her and those brief, teasing kisses he’d dropped on her earlier.
A smile tugged at his mouth when he saw her already curled up under the covers. “You look comfy.”
“I am.” And anything but relaxed with him about to crawl onto the bed with her.
She’d thought she might have to reiterate the sleeping on top of the covers rule, but he surprised her by turning to the wooden wardrobe beside the bed and taking out a quilt. The mattress dipped as he climbed on and stretched out.
Avery’s pulse skipped. That was a whole lotta delicious man laid out right next to her. Seemed a shame to let it—and this opportunity—go to waste.
She mentally shook herself. Cut it out.
“Going to sleep, or you wanna talk for a bit?” Mason asked.
“Sleep.” Because she was chicken, although she’d die before admitting it to him.
“Okay. G’night.”
“G’night.”
He reached over and snapped off the lamp on the bedside table, but the glow from the fire below continued to flicker over everything. She’d never been in a place half so romantic, even on her wedding night.
She thought of everything he’d done for her today. How he’d put aside his own discomforts to help her. “Mason.”
He opened his eyes to look at her. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for coming with me.”
“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.”
Avery turned over onto her other side to face the window, acutely aware of him lying so close as she stared out at the lake. She wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon. His presence was too primal, too commanding. And she could smell him.
That clean, soapy, masculine scent that tempted her. She thought of the way he’d touched her, the way her body had reacted to the merest brush of his fingers.
And yet, as conscious and aroused as she was with him lying next to her this way…she also felt safe. Safe on a deeply subconscious level. That was new.
She might still have misgivings about this arrangement, but at least her family and ex seemed to be convinced by their charade. Now she wasn’t dreading tomorrow so much anymore.
In fact, part of her wished this wasn’t a charade at all.
Chapter Seven
Lying in bed next to Avery all night had been a form of torture.
Mason cracked a yawn and scrubbed a hand over his face as he loped up the Ponderosa’s front steps, his T-shirt sticking to him after his early morning run around the lake.
He hadn’t slept worth a damn last night. Partly because of Avery lying two feet away, but mostly because he’d been afraid to fall asleep in case he had one of his nightmares without Ric there to alert him and wake him up before it got too bad.
Instead he’d dozed off and on. While awake, he’d watched Avery as she slept. There was something deeply intimate about sharing a bed with someone and sleeping next to them. Which was why Mason never did it. When he hooked up with someone, he made sure it was a good time for all, then he left with a short goodbye before the sun came up.
His only escape this time had been a run.
He eased the cabin door open and stepped inside. Everything was quiet as he took out his earbuds and placed his phone on the coffee table in the living room.
Before he could figure out whether Avery was still in bed, the bathroom door opened and every muscle in his body tightened when she stepped out wearing snug jeans, boots and a purple sweater, her strawberry-blond hair styled to perfection and subtle makeup highlighting her features.
“Morning,” she said before he could stop staring. “Did you go for a run?”
He found his voice. “Around the lake.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Did I snore or something?”
“No.” He rarely slept well, and last night had made it impossible anyway. Heading out early to burn off some of the restless energy seething inside him had been a necessity. After yesterday he wanted Avery more than ever. And it was getting harder and harder to remember that this was just pretend. “You look great.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at her feet, her cheeks flushing, as though she was unused to receiving compliments. “Thanks.”
Man, what he wouldn’t have given to be able to slide his hands into her hair and kiss her right now. “What time are you meeting your mom and sister?”
She met his gaze again. “Seven. We’re going to go to the spa, then have lunch before the ceremony. What are you going to do?”
“Told your dad I’d meet him for breakfast at eight.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “You did?”
“Yeah, he asked me last night.”
“Wow, he must really like you. He’s a known introvert.”
“Well, then, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” She turned and started to edge past him, trailing her delicious scent in her wake. “I’m all done with the bathroom if you want to shower.”
“Thanks.” Watching her sleep last night, all her barriers down, had roused a new level of protectiveness in him. His growing feelings for her surprised him. He’d come here as a kind of distraction, looking forward to having fun, and maybe even getting her naked at some point.
Now it felt like something more. Something he couldn’t shut off and wasn’t sure he wanted to even as part of him balked at the
idea.
Minutes later as the hot water streamed over him in the shower, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About how she’d been naked and wet in here only minutes before. About the barely concealed hunger he’d seen in her eyes when she looked at him. The need she tried so hard to hide from him.
His cock swelled as he imagined quenching that fire in her eyes. Of showing her a hint of the dominant edge inside him that he wanted to unleash on her.
He wanted to pin her under him. Hold her down to show her his strength and demonstrate his control. Get her so hot she couldn’t stand it, and then get her off—on his terms.
He wanted to drink in each and every shift in her expression. Watch her shields come down inch by inch until there was nothing left but need, and then fulfill it. Make her cling and tremble and cry out, desperate for more.
Wanting him. Needing him.
He reached down to wrap his fingers around the aching length between his thighs, stroking himself as he thought of her face. Those gorgeous golden eyes staring up into his. The softness of her lips, the way she’d melt when he kissed her, sliding his tongue inside to taste her.
The fantasy raced on in vivid, erotic detail. Him exerting his authority and control. Stripping hers away layer by layer. Making her face her desires and then surrender to them.
He imagined her gasp of mingled shock and pleasure as he reached beneath the hem of whatever dress she wore to the wedding, and cupped her heat in his palm. Imagined what she’d sound like when he made her come. Then her sinking to her knees after and taking him in that pretty, sassy mouth until she swallowed every last drop of him.
His entire body contracted, pleasure rocketing up his spine. He held his breath, locked his teeth together to smother the rough moan trapped in his throat as he started to come.
But as good as it felt, it wasn’t satisfying. He wanted it to be real.
He was a little disappointed to find her already gone when he stepped out of the bathroom dressed and ready a few minutes later. The air still held the faint trace of her perfume, and it made him edgy. He left the cabin to wander the grounds for a bit before heading to the main lodge to meet her father for breakfast.
“Mason.” Mr. Dahl smiled broadly at him and rose to offer his hand. “Sleep well?”
Not at all, but it had been more than worth it. “Great. You?”
He made a face as he sat. “Wife kept poking me to make me roll over. Says I snore.”
Mason grinned and helped himself to the coffee already set out on the table. “How long have you guys been married?”
“Forty-two years.” His eyes twinkled. “Avery rushed us along a bit.”
“Really, a shotgun wedding?”
“Sort of. My wife was the one who needed convincing. She wasn’t too sure about marrying a military man.”
“What branch did you serve in?”
“Army. Avery tells us you did as well, in Canada.”
Mason nodded. “Joined up at eighteen and stayed in until I left a few years ago.”
“Ah. Avery didn’t say as much, but based on how vague she was on the details, I’m guessing you weren’t regular army?”
“No.” He didn’t say what unit he’d been with, or what he’d done.
Mr. Dahl eyed him. “Do you miss it?”
“Every damn day.”
“Me too.” His grin was pure mischief. “But don’t tell my wife I said that.”
Mason smiled back, glad he’d accepted this invitation. Making connections with people was hard for him now. Avery’s dad seemed like a great guy, and him being former military helped Mason feel more at ease. “Never.”
The waitress came to take their order. When she left, Mr. Dahl shook his head. “You don’t know how glad I am that Avery’s with you.”
That gave Mason pause. “Why’s that?”
“Because you understand her, and support her being a cop. It’s not an easy job she’s taken on.”
“No, it’s not. I respect her for wanting to serve and making a difference.” He respected a lot of things about her.
Mr. Dahl’s face became more animated. “See, this is what I’m talking about. Have you seen her shoot yet?”
“No, but my buddy Tate says she’s good.” He’d like to see her shoot firsthand soon. Maybe once they got back to Rifle Creek, he could convince her to go with him to the range.
“She is. Taught her myself. Apparently, Tate sharpened her skills more, but with your background I’m betting you could take her to the next level.”
“If she’s interested, I’d be happy to show her some things.” He smirked at her dad. “But I don’t think she’ll be asking me for pointers anytime soon.”
That got him a laugh. “My stubborn spitfire. God, I love her. And between you and me, I’ll never understand why she married that dipshit.” He jerked his chin and Mason turned his head to find Doug standing over at the buffet across the room with his wife. “Must have been tough on her, to see them last night. I’m really proud of her. Of how hard she’s worked to overcome everything and move on after the divorce.”
Mason turned his attention back to Mr. Dahl. “She doesn’t talk about it to me.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’s too proud. But let’s just say, she struggled a lot at first. Couldn’t see that it was a good thing to cut that dead weight from her life and be free of him. She can now, though.”
“He was that bad, huh?”
Mr. Dahl grunted. “He never deserved her in the first place. I pegged him as a manipulative shit the first time I met him. But love is blind, I guess. Anyway, that’s all done now, and we just want her to be happy.”
“So do I.” Her happiness was becoming more important to him by the day.
He smiled at Mason. “Glad to hear it.”
The rest of breakfast passed in an easy camaraderie while they ate and shared military stories, and her dad told a few about Avery growing up. By the time it was over, Mason had a newfound respect for her and what she’d been through. Her ex was a piece of shit for hurting her, and Mason was dying to know what had really happened. But he wanted to hear it from her, not her dad or anyone else.
Her dad startled and dug his phone out of his pocket when it rang, squinted as he read the screen. “Oh. The girls want to know if we want to join them for a trail ride in fifteen minutes.” He looked up at Mason. “You ride?”
“Yessir.” The idea of riding was welcome, but doing it with Avery was even better, even if his knees and back would ache like a bitch afterward.
Mason was already dressed in jeans and boots, but he stopped at the cabin to get his hat. From there they met the ladies at the stable, set on the edge of the grounds closest to the main lodge.
He spotted Avery the second they crested the rise above the stable, her bright hair all but glowing red-gold in the sun. Her face lit up when she saw him, and something deep in his chest expanded.
“Up for a trail ride?” she called out to him. Her mom and sister were with her, along with another dozen people.
“Always.” He’d been born and raised an Alberta cowboy. Being in the saddle felt like home.
The trail boss gave Mason a young gelding. Avery was already mounted on her mare, so Mason swung into the saddle and nudged his horse over to hers. She looked sexy as fuck in the saddle, totally confident and at ease. “You look like you’ve done this before.”
She smirked at him, her self-assurance a total turn-on. “A time or two. How was breakfast?”
“Great. Your dad invited me out fishing whenever I want.”
Avery quirked an eyebrow. “Did he? Well then, brownie points for you.” She tossed him a saucy smile and turned her horse. “Let’s go, Canuck cowboy.”
Even that tiny challenge revved his dominant side. Made him want to answer by dragging her out of her saddle into his lap and kissing that sassy mouth until she clung to him for support.
He nudged his horse and caught up to ride beside her. She rode like she’d been born to it,
and the enjoyment on her face made him itch to reach over to grasp her reins, draw her to a halt and kiss her right there in front of everyone.
Instead he looked away and consciously relaxed his body, even as that restless, edgy hunger stirred in his gut. The rolling, golden hills and grassland surrounding them were beautiful, but the sedate pace was boring as fuck.
He longed to break free of the group and gallop across the terrain, make Avery chase him to catch up. He’d race her to a secluded spot somewhere out of view of the others, pull her off her horse and blanket her with his body right there on the grass, using his mouth and hands to take her to a fever pitch. Make her want him as much as he wanted her, then hold her there, make her wait, make her crazy with need, until she begged him to make her come.
He drew in a slow, steady breath and sought his restraint. He’d meant what he’d told her before. Nothing would happen without her consent.
But if she gave it, then game fucking on.
Chapter Eight
If the trail ride had left him on edge, sitting beside Avery at the reception later that evening was way worse. Mason kept his fingers twined with hers as they sat at their table with her family, conscious of every single thing about her.
For the wedding she’d changed into an insanely sexy, snug green dress, and added strappy black heels that showed off the muscles in her long, bare legs. All he could think about was taking her back to the cabin and trapping her against the door as soon as they walked in, kissing her until she couldn’t stand up before he carried her up to the bed in the loft and leaving her in nothing but those shoes as he buried his tongue between her thighs and made her lose her mind.
He shifted, his pants suddenly too tight in the crotch, and pretended to be paying attention to what she and her sister were talking about. She was still a little stiff whenever he touched her or showed any affection, but he didn’t think anyone had noticed because they all seemed to believe he and Avery were really together.
With every passing minute it felt more real to him too, and he wondered if she felt the same. Not that she’d ever admit it. Whatever her ex had done had made her close herself off from guys, and she wouldn’t let her defenses down easily.
