Mason

by Delores Fossen

  “Damn you,” she grumbled.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “I feel the same way about you.” He reached behind his back, locked the door and pushed himself away from it.

  It was the sound of the lock clicking that caused her heart to slam against her chest, but when he made it to her, when he hooked his arm around her and hauled her to him, that robbed her of her breath.

  Mason kissed her.

  This wasn’t the gentle kisses he’d doled out earlier. No, it was as if something dark and dangerous had been unleashed, and he took full control. He anchored her to him with that hooked right arm, and his left hand went to the back of her neck. He angled her head so he could deepen the kiss.

  Yes! That was the thought that went through her mind. The only thought that had time to form because Mason continued the assault on her mouth until thinking was next to impossible.

  He dropped his hand from her neck, sliding it between them. And over her breasts. The breath she’d managed to catch vanished again, and Abbie only felt the heat. The need.

  She only felt Mason.

  He unclipped the front hook of her bra, and her breasts spilled out into his hands. His touch there alone was enough to make her legs go weak, but then he shoved aside the concho, lowered his head and took her right nipple into his mouth.

  Abbie made a shivery sound and sagged against him. The only thing she could do was hold on for this wild ride.

  He lifted her, and Abbie wrapped her legs around him to bring the center of her body right against his. The pleasure slammed through her, instant and hot, and she had no doubt that this was what she wanted. Mason wanted it, too, because he carried her to the bed and let her drop onto the soft mattress. He followed until he was on top of her and settled right between her legs.

  Abbie couldn’t process everything. It was coming at her so fast that all she could do was feel and let Mason take her anywhere he wanted to go.

  He caught his thumb on the elastic top of her panties and shimmied them off her body. She was naked now. Not a stitch of clothing. But Mason was fully dressed, and she wanted to do something about that. She fought with his shirt while he fought to get his boots off. It was working until his hand went lower. And lower. Until he slid his fingers into her.

  Abbie gasped.

  The heat soared too hot, too much, too fast. The climax hit her before she had a chance to say anything. She’d expected something amazing with Mason.

  But she hadn’t expected this.

  She hadn’t expected for it to feel as if he’d shattered her body into a thousand pieces of light and fire.

  It took her a moment to open her eyes. Another moment to catch her breath. And yet another moment to see the look on Mason’s face. He wasn’t touching her now. His hand had frozen in place. His mouth was slightly open. And he was staring at her, waiting.

  Abbie knew exactly what he was waiting for.

  “It’s my first time,” she managed to say.

  His mouth was still open. He still had that poleaxed expression on his face, but it took a while to speak. “You’re a virgin.” And it wasn’t a question.

  She nodded. Swallowed hard. “Please tell me it doesn’t make a difference.” Abbie reached for him, to hold him in place so they could finish what they’d started.

  But Mason moved off her and stepped away from the bed. Mumbling something that she couldn’t quite catch, he started to pace.

  “It doesn’t make a difference,” she insisted.

  “To hell it doesn’t.” He tossed his hands in the air, palms up. “Trust me, it makes a difference.”

  She groaned, already anticipating the discussion—no, make that an argument—they were about to have. She got to her feet, righted her bra and put her panties back on. “It wasn’t as if I planned it this way. I’ve been in witness protection since I was eleven. Not many opportunities came up for me to trust someone enough to hop into bed with them.”

  He aimed a scowl at her. “You should have told me before I ever kissed you.”

  Now it was her turn to scowl. “And just how would I have worked that into the conversation, huh? If I’d said I was a virgin, you would have thought I was some innocent naive woman that you couldn’t touch.”

  “Yeah, I would have.” His hands went in the air again. “And I darn sure wouldn’t have kissed you, got that?”

  Yes, she got that. On some level Abbie had known what his reaction would be, and maybe that’s why she hadn’t told him. She’d wanted that kiss. She’d wanted to know what it would feel like to be with Mason—in his arms and in his bed.

  Frustrated with herself and with Mason, Abbie snatched her clothes from the floor and started putting them back on. “You think having sex with me will mean a commitment.”

  He stared at her, gave her a flat duh look.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” she assured him.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  She caught onto his arm when he started to walk away. “Why? Because you’d be my first? Get over yourself, Mason. I’m thirty-two years old. How many women my age do you think stayed with their first lovers?”

  He paused, moved in closer. “It doesn’t matter.” His thumb landed against his chest, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t sleep with virgins.”

  She wanted to ask if that was true, if he’d ever had a virgin for a lover, but Abbie knew he wasn’t lying. Mason had lived his life keeping people at arm’s length, at creating this dark and brooding facade that frightened people. Virgins steered clear of him, and he did the same to them.

  “Sex is simpler if there are no strings attached,” Abbie mumbled.

  Mason certainly didn’t deny that. “And you come with plenty of strings.”

  Again, she could only nod and try to push aside the dull ache still burning in her body. Yes, he’d made her climax, but it didn’t seem nearly enough when she was lusting after every inch of him.

  Mason cursed again, making her believe that he was still doing some lusting of his own. He moved away from her, sank down onto the foot of the bed and cursed some more.

  “A virgin,” he said, and he repeated it. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “Then maybe I should have let you find out the hard way.” Abbie gave him a flat look so that he’d know she was joking.

  Well, maybe.

  Mason returned the flat look. “Do I need to give you the talk about your first time being with someone special?”

  “You are special.” Abbie said it fast, like ripping off a bandage. Besides, fast meant he couldn’t add anything else—like making it special with someone she loved.

  The L word would send Mason running.

  She huffed. Heck, he already was running.

  Abbie went to him, despite the warning glare he gave her, and she slid her hand through his hair, tilting his head slightly so they made direct eye contact.

  “I don’t want you to be special. I don’t want to feel this way about you. Because I know my strings complicate things.” Abbie didn’t back down, although this wasn’t easy. “But I can’t help it. I want you, and I’m possibly falling in love with you.”

  Let the running begin.

  He huffed, stood and brushed a very chaste kiss on her cheek. “I’m not the right man for you.” And with that, he started for the door. Not exactly running but close.

  “Who says you’re not?” she fired back.

  Mason stopped, kept his back to her. “Anyone who knows me.”

  Abbie’s hands went to her hips. “I’ll venture a guess that no one knows you because you haven’t let anyone in since you were seventeen.”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. No scowl or glare this time, but amusement danced through his eyes. “Analyzing me?”

  The moment called for some levity. “Seducing you, but obviously failing.”

  Mason laughed in that low husky way that always made her melt. Oh, yeah. She was possibly falling in love with him.

  He opened his mouth, but
the sound stopped him from saying anything. Abbie was so focused on him that it took her a moment to realize his cell was ringing. Mason took it from his pocket, cursed.

  “It’s Rodney Stone,” he relayed to her and answered it by putting the call on Speaker.

  “I went by the sheriff’s office, but none of you were there, just the night deputy, and I don’t want to talk to her. She gave me your cell number.”

  “What do you want?” Mason demanded, the impatience evident in his voice. Abbie was right there with them. She’d had enough of all their suspects for one day.

  “I want you and your brothers to investigate Nicole Manning,” Stone insisted.

  “We are. And you, too. In fact, we want to know what was in the letter that you got from Ford Herrington.”

  Silence for several moments. “The letter’s not important. It was just to thank me for all my years of service.”

  “Admirable.” Sarcasm replaced the impatience. “But I’ll want to read it.”

  “Fine,” Stone snapped. “Read it and then do your job. Investigate Nicole.”

  “Anything specific or are you just slinging mud?” Mason asked.

  “No mud. Be at the sheriff’s office tomorrow morning, and I’ll bring proof.”

  “Proof of what?” Mason pressed when Stone didn’t continue.

  He made that smug sound that Abbie had heard him make earlier. “Proof that Nicole is the one who’s trying to kill all of you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mason gulped his third cup of coffee while he finished up the paperwork for the arson and shooting incident at the ranch. Later, he’d have to do the same for Ace Chapman’s second attack and then the reports that would come when Rodney Stone arrived with his so-called evidence. He hated paperwork and hated even more when he couldn’t get his mind centered on it. And Mason knew the exact reason for his lack of focus.

  Abbie.

  Man, fate was laughing its butt off right about now. In high school other guys had wanted virgin trophies, but not him. He preferred his women with some baggage. Women who didn’t want a commitment any more than he did. He’d steered clear of virgins, Goody Two-shoes and anyone with marrying potential.

  Until now.

  And he could still steer clear, he reminded himself. Maybe Ace would regain consciousness and spill all the details about who hired him. Maybe Stone could give them something to arrest Nicole. Or vice versa. Mason didn’t care who was responsible, only that he wanted that person out of commission and facing down some justice. Then he could give some serious thought to this emotional mess with Abbie.

  A virgin!

  Well, it ruled out a one-night stand, that’s for sure. Of course, that didn’t stop him from wanting both her and that single encounter in bed. He huffed. No, it didn’t rule out anything except he was going to have to figure out a way to keep his hands off her.

  That resolution lasted about a second.

  Carrying a bag from Tip Top Diner, Abbie stepped into the doorway of his office, and she looked far better than any woman had a right to look. Snug jeans that she’d borrowed from Dade’s wife, Kayla. Mason never remembered those jeans looking that great on his sister-in-law. The borrowed sapphire-blue top was in the same category.

  Hot.

  And hot and virgin didn’t go together. Not for him.

  Abbie had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, something she’d likely done for comfort and not to make him notice her neck.

  “Dade got us cinnamon rolls,” she announced, smiling. Damn. That smile was working a number on him, too.

  Abbie opened the bag, deposited one of the wrapped heavenly smelling pastries on his desk and then took out one for herself. She made an mmm-ing sound when she bit into it.

  Mason’s body started to beg when she licked her fingers.

  Oh, this is going great.

  “You’re in a good mood,” he settled for saying, and his tone let her know that he didn’t share that mood with her. He was frustrated, ornery and in need of sex.

  Hell.

  He was in need of Abbie, and that only made his mood worse.

  “I’m optimistic,” she explained, glancing at the clock. “Stone is due here any minute now. By lunch, we could all be out of danger.”

  Maybe. Mason didn’t have a lot of faith in Stone. Nor their other suspects—Nicole and Ferguson. He had to add Boone’s name to that list, as well. He didn’t think for a minute that Boone had hired anyone to shoot at Abbie, but Mason had to ask him about that phone message that he’d erased. Boone could be some kind of unwilling or unknowing accomplice.

  “Marshal McKinney called a few minutes ago,” Mason filled her in. “He’s still working on a new identity and location for you. He might have something ready by the end of the day and wants you to stay in my protective custody until then.”

  Abbie studied him a moment. “Are you scowling because of that or because of last night?”

  “I always scowl,” he reminded her, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about last night.

  “Not always. Sometimes, you have a back-off expression that looks like a scowl. But this one is the real deal.” She didn’t wait for him to comment on that observation. “So are you regretting that you didn’t sleep with me, or are you just upset that things got as far as they did?”

  Mason was sure he didn’t want to answer that either, and that certainty went up a notch when he realized Dade was standing in the doorway. Ah, heck. He’d let Abbie’s questions, tight jeans and finger licking distract him, and now his brother had overheard the questions that Mason would have preferred to keep private.

  And unanswered.

  Dade’s eyebrow hiked up. So did the corner of his mouth. Yeah, Dade was enjoying this, and if kept enjoying it, he was about to be a dead man.

  Abbie’s face turned red, and she dodged Dade’s gaze.

  “You’d better not have anything to say. Got that?” Mason dared his brother.

  Dade held his hands up in mock surrender, and he looked at Abbie. “He likes to say got that a lot. Have you noticed?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been on the receiving end of a few of them. It means shut up and don’t argue.”

  Mason didn’t contradict her. That’s exactly what it meant, and Dade better not press it.

  But Dade only gave him a smug look. “I thought you’d like to know that Stone just walked in.” The levity faded. “And Boone. Grayson’s not here yet. His baby’s running a slight temp, and they might have to take him to the doctor.”

  They would take him to the doctor, Mason mentally corrected. The baby, Chet David, was only a month old, and there was no way his big brother would put an interrogation above his baby boy.

  Mason got to his feet. “Put Stone in the interview room. I’ll talk to Boone here in my office.” Because he didn’t want another go-round in reception. Abbie would no doubt want to follow him there, and Mason didn’t want her near all that glass.

  “I’ll send Boone back,” Dade mumbled.

  Abbie ditched the rest of her cinnamon roll, shoving it back into the bag, and she stood, as well. No doubt waiting for Mason to send her out of the room so he could conduct an official interview with Boone.

  “You can stay,” he let her know, “but I ask the questions.”

  She nodded and looked as if she wanted to say something. Mason only hoped it didn’t have anything to do with the incident on the bed. But then she shook her head and turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later Boone appeared in the doorway.

  “Mason,” he greeted. “Abbie.” He didn’t exactly give them the raised eyebrow as Dade had, but his forehead bunched up. Was he wondering why the two of them were together—again? No doubt. His father wasn’t trustworthy, wasn’t worthy of being called a father, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “How soon are the marshals getting Abbie out of here?” Boone asked him.

  “Soon. I’m working on it. You want a lawyer present for this?”

  Ab
bie made a slight groan, but Boone didn’t look the least surprised. He just shook his head. “What’s this about?”

  Mason had no intention of soothing the concern in Boone’s voice. He cut right to the chase. “When Ford visited you twenty years ago to tell you that Mom was dead, Ferguson called you shortly thereafter. You remember?”

  Boone lifted his shoulder and glanced at Abbie. “What’s going on?”

  “You erased a message from Ferguson,” she explained.

  An explanation Mason didn’t want her to give, but it seemed to jog Boone’s memory. “Yeah, I remember.” He shrugged. “Ferguson asked if Abbie was still sleeping with the lights on. Not a threat, exactly, but because he’d called the rental house, that meant he knew how to find us.”

  Mason felt the little twist in his stomach, and he hated that Ferguson had done things like that to Abbie. It was torture, plain and simple, and he was continuing it twenty years later.

  “Any idea why Ferguson called first?” Mason asked. “If he knew where you were, why didn’t he just go after Abbie without warning you?”

  Boone got a pained look on his face and glanced at Abbie. “I think a man like Ferguson enjoys the hunt. And he did send someone after her. We barely made it one step out of the house when the hired gun opened fire.”

  “Boone had to kill the hired gun,” Abbie added. “So we weren’t able to prove that Ferguson hired him.”

  More than a twist this time. Mason’s stomach turned rock hard. Abbie was alive because of Boone. No wonder she thought of him as a father.

  Mason got his mind off that and back on business. “So why erase the message from Ferguson?”

  “I didn’t want Abbie to hear it.” And Boone looked Mason straight in the eye when he answered. “Yeah, we were already in the process of leaving, but she would have taken the answering machine with us.”

  It was a reasonable explanation, and Mason had to remind himself that if this were any man other than Boone, he probably wouldn’t have any doubts. And he had to admit that his doubts weren’t even reasonable. Any fool could see that Boone loved Abbie like a daughter. So, yeah, he would have taken little steps and big ones to protect her.