I felt awful. Worse than awful. And that didn’t sit well with me.
His eyes were piercing. Direct. I began to wonder how much he actually saw.
Was he looking at the illusion I had created?
Or was he digging his way to the truth?
To the real Hannah?
I felt ill. My belly clenched and my hands became clammy.
Could Mason know? Was he playing with me just as I was playing with him?
He was an FBI agent, after all.
His walls had been remarkably easy to scale. Could a man trained to find criminals really not know that the woman he touched was one?
I stared up at the man whose life I had infiltrated. His expression was concerned, his eyes soft. I couldn’t detect any duplicity. He appeared to be someone who cared. A man possibly falling.
It upset me.
Because of the secrets.
They can weigh a heart down.
My heart could have nothing to do with this.
I couldn’t afford it.
But it did. I couldn’t stop the way it pounded for a man who shouldn’t have mattered.
But in spite of this, I had to make sure he didn’t suspect me. That his trail was stone cold.
It was his heart or my freedom.
Choosing one over the other shouldn’t be hard.
I slowly let my shoulders sag. I unclenched my fists.
I had a part to play. Appearances were important.
I was the romantic interest of the unsuspecting FBI agent. That was my role.
Why was I starting to hate the mask so damn much?
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze, regarding me steadily. “You okay?”
Calm. Even. Give away nothing.
Why did I want, if only for a moment, to give him something more?
“It was a long day. I’m fine now that I’m here,” I said.
He ran his hand through my hair. “You don’t have to pretend. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you can trust me.”
Trust.
Why did that sound like such a dirty word?
He wants me to trust him.
His offer was without guile. Without pretext.
I could see that.
The twinge of guilt was back. And it was uncomfortable.
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I gave him a weak smile.
“Why do I feel like you’re not being truthful?” Mason asked, his fingers on the nape of my neck.
My throat felt tight.
“I’m being truthful,” I protested, sounding defensive.
Chill out! I scolded myself.
“I’m just saying that you can talk to me. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” He gave me his sexiest grin and I felt my stomach tumble and flip.
I was off balance. The conversation with Rose had unglued the tiny little pieces I was trying to hold in place.
And now, with Mason looking at me, his blue, blue eyes seeing way too much, I was unnerved.
Trust me.
I swallowed thickly, my mouth painfully dry.
This is going to fall apart.
“I got a call from an old friend just before I came here,” I found myself telling him.
Giving him a truth when I should be feeding him lies.
“And that has you looking like someone ran over your cat?” he asked, running a hand up and down my arm comfortingly.
We hadn’t moved from his front door. We stood close together, warm in each other’s presence.
I had a mission.
One that didn’t involve being something real.
Then why was I contemplating telling Mason about Rose?
About how she rattled me, even after all these years?
Why would I give him anything?
He wasn’t privy to the real Hannah.
He was being fed doses of a woman concocted for a specific reason.
Yet I had told him about missing my dad. I’d opened up about Charlotte. As much as I tried to tightly control the story, it was unraveling. Edges were starting to fray, the threads dangling around me no matter how hard I tried to keep them together.
Standing in front of him made it harder to keep the image intact. It was easier to lie when you didn’t care.
And that was the problem.
I was starting to care.
There was something about the way he looked at me, how he gave me his undivided attention, that made me feel special. Important.
Which I hadn’t felt in my real world in a long, long time.
I hadn’t realized how much I craved being someone’s focus. Feeling like I mattered.
I had hardened myself to affection. Convinced myself I didn’t need it. Didn’t want it.
I rejected it from my mother and allowed it from Charlotte only when I could handle the emotion it unleashed.
Not from anyone else.
My connections were few. It was intentional. I had no room for attachments in the life I had chosen to live.
But I was human. I was drawn to what he offered even as I battled against it.
He was dangerous.
“It was someone I have a complicated history with. I hadn’t spoken to them in years.”
Mason continued to rub my arm, his thumb pressing into my flesh, grounding me.
Reel him in; make him trust you.
Remember why you’re here.
Trust.
Trust.
Trust.
“Was this someone a former lover?” Mason asked. A hint of something in his voice. Jealousy? I wanted to grin like an idiot.
He didn’t like the thought of my being with someone else.
He fancied me his.
I shrugged. “They wanted to be.” I couldn’t give him any more. I had revealed too much already.
We were almost there….
Remember why you’re here.
Ticktock. Ticktock.
I could hear the invisible clock ticking away.
“They’re not important. Not now. I’m here. With you. I don’t want to think about phone calls and warnings—”
“Warnings? What warnings?” Mason pounced, his eyes wide.
Damn it! Get it together, Hannah!
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just frazzled. Forget it.” I went up on my tiptoes and kissed him, willing him to forget.
Mason cupped my face between his hands, peering intently into my eyes. “If someone is threatening you, Hannah, you need to let me know. I can help you. If it’s a stalker who can’t take no for an answer, tell me. Those types of situations can escalate quickly.”
I bit down on my bottom lip and silently cursed my stupidity.
“There’s no one threatening me. No psycho you need to worry about. You don’t need to go badass agent, I promise.” I tried to kiss him again. He didn’t respond. His eyes were still troubled.
“You can tell me if there’s something going on. I won’t judge you. I will only try and help if I can. I’m amazingly resourceful.”
I squeezed his hands, pulling them away from my cheeks, holding them, lacing fingers. “I’m fine, Mason. You don’t need to ride to my rescue.”
His lips curved upward into a beautiful smile. He was hard to look at sometimes. Particularly when I was lying.
The guilt bubbled again. Making me all too aware of its presence.
Why does he have to be so wonderful? Damn him.
Mason squeezed my hands. “I’m good at the rescuing thing. It’s sort of my job.”
We laughed together.
I relaxed, relieved that the moment of accidental transparency was over.
“Come on, then, unless you want to hang out in the hallway all evening.” Mason led me into the living room, where he had music playing. The Dandy Warhols. He was a man who remembered every detail. I just had to keep them all straight.
A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the coffee table. He poured me a glass and handed it to me.
I gulped it down, barely
tasting it.
I almost jumped out of my skin when he put a hand in the center of my back. The heat of his palm seared my flesh through my clothing.
“Take it easy, or this will be a really quick evening,” he teased, his thumb running a trail back and forth. I wanted to move away. To put distance between us. My head rebelled against the closeness.
My heart wanted me to give in.
Without conscious thought, I felt myself leaning into him. I couldn’t help it. Whether I wanted to or not, I was becoming accustomed to the way he touched me. Addicted to the fizzing in my veins at his proximity.
He wasn’t at all what I had expected when I made the plan to get close to the federal agent in charge of my case.
He had been a name. A face on a website. The hero in newspaper articles.
Random. Nondescript.
I hadn’t been ready for the flesh-and-blood man.
Why hadn’t I thought this through? Why hadn’t I prepared myself for this feigned closeness that felt so much like the real thing?
“Don’t mind the lush,” I said, chuckling uneasily, putting my now-empty glass on the coffee table and turning in to his arms.
He pushed my hair back from my forehead, his fingers lingering. “I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmured.
He wouldn’t let it go.
It was what made him so successful at his job. Why he was such a threat to everything I had worked for.
“All I’m thinking about is you,” I insisted.
“Somehow I doubt that.” His words were wary. “I wish you were, but I can see in your eyes that something’s troubling you.” Then he kissed the tip of my nose. It was such a surprisingly gentle gesture, full of sweetness that had me melting.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, his nose rubbing my cheek. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath.
He was lethal.
“I like you, Hannah. I like you a lot. I don’t want to push you or move too fast, but I can’t seem to help myself. I want to spend time with you. I want to know you.” His soft words warmed my skin, his kisses light as he dug his way into places I was determined to keep him out of.
I felt the doubt again. It was becoming a permanent fixture in my hardened resolve.
This was more than I had bargained for.
I had to change the course of the conversation quickly. I needed to put us back into territory I was more comfortable with.
A place where deceit didn’t matter because he wasn’t looking for the type of intimacy I couldn’t give him.
I couldn’t have sweetness. Tender caresses and heartfelt reassurances.
I couldn’t risk it.
Purposefully, I slid my arms up and around his neck as if we had always been like this.
Together.
No! Don’t think like that! Not now!
Remember why you’re here.
I surreptitiously scanned the room, looking for the briefcase.
I couldn’t see it anywhere. That didn’t mean anything. It was probably in the bedroom. That was where it had been before.
I would have to find time to check. I had to see what was in that file.
But now I had to get him exactly where I wanted him.
So I kissed him. Firmly. Insistently.
His lips were warm and sweet.
I shivered.
This was what deception tasted like.
It was delicious.
It was terrifying.
I curled my fingers into his shirt, pulling him closer.
The gentle mood shifted into something primal. Something seductive. Something I was more prepared for.
I bit down on the soft flesh of his bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth.
He moaned. I groaned. I ran my hand down his chest, over the bulge in his jeans. His physical reaction excited me.
I felt powerful.
“Hannah,” he whispered, my name sounding agonized.
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
We stood at a precipice. Ready to go over. I was leading him down a path we couldn’t turn back from.
Was I ready for the consequences of entering into this deception with this man?
Doubt.
It clawed at my insides.
They know that Hannah Whelan is Freedom Overdrive.
“Don’t get caught. And don’t get too close. Remember our purpose.”
Then his hands were everywhere. In my hair. On my ass. Pulling frantically at my shirt.
I broke away, out of breath, my lips raw and tingling. I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling his frantic, desperate heartbeat beneath my palm.
“So eager, aren’t you? I like that in a man,” I said, and tried to laugh, but there was an edge to my voice. Fractured and breaking. Give him a little. Take a little away. Push and pull until he was needy. Willing to do anything.
Mason’s eyes were unfocused. He blinked rapidly as if just waking up. He cupped my cheek and kissed me again. Softer. Gentler.
“What is it about you, Hannah, that makes it so easy for me to lose control?” he murmured. Maybe more to himself than to me.
I didn’t answer him.
I couldn’t tell him that I had maneuvered our paths so that this moment was an eventuality.
I could throw it all away for the taste of what he was giving me.
My need to survive was at war with the lust that raged through my body.
I could give in.
Just for a moment.
No more.
I pulled his head back down to meet me, my mouth vicious and demanding against his. He didn’t resist. He wouldn’t even think about not giving me exactly what I wanted. What he wanted.
We were all lips and hands and teeth. The electricity between us sizzled and popped, burning us both.
“If we don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you, Hannah,” Mason growled into my mouth. My belly turned to molten fire and I felt his words all the way down to my bones.
“I’m going to bend you over the couch and make you come so hard you’ll be feeling me for days.” He ran his hand up the inside of my thigh, forcing my legs apart. He wasn’t being sweet and tender now.
This Mason was accustomed to doing exactly as he pleased. Take no prisoners.
This was the agent who hunted his prey mercilessly. This was the man I should have been terrified of.
But I wasn’t.
And my lack of fear was concerning.
Mason dragged my skirt upward; his fingers traced the edge of my lace panties. The tip of his finger curled beneath the elastic, touching vulnerable, heated skin.
I was wet. He could feel it. I could tell it excited him.
I was trembling with the need for him to do just as he promised.
“Oh yeah?” I was breathless. The words came out as a croak. Thready and desperate.
Mason grinned against my mouth as he pulled my underwear to the side and in one smooth movement slid his finger inside of me. Deep.
“I’m a man of my word, Hannah.”
“I can see that,” I replied, gasping as he began to move his hand.
Slowly and steadily he stroked me. Adding a second finger, he worked me into a frenzy.
I wasn’t thinking about Rose and warnings. About artifice and deceit. I was only a woman ready to lose her mind as the man she lusted for made her come apart.
He pulled me closer, his fingers so deep inside that I could do little more than wriggle against him. I cried out, my head falling back, his lips on the column of my throat.
This was moving fast. Just how I wanted it to.
Right?
The warmth in my belly was building. His fingers continued their slow, methodical assault. His thumb pressed against my clit. Rubbing in tantalizing circles.
I was going to come.
Come hard.
And I knew in that instant it wouldn’t be enough.
Good God, I wanted him to fuck me.
I wanted
to feel him inside of me. Everywhere.
Lust was becoming blurred with other things.
Other feelings.
On the cusp of orgasm, I pushed against his chest, taking a staggering step backward, his fingers falling away just as I was poised, ready to explode. My body thrummed and began its torturous downward spiral, having been denied the very thing it ached for.
Mason reached for me, his hands outstretched. “Hannah—”
“Just give me a minute. I’m sorry…” My voice trailed off. I had to get my head together.
Mason looked worried. “Did I do something wrong?”
No…
It wasn’t Mason.
It was me.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said instead of answering him. He looked upset, not angry about my prick tease.
“Hannah, please talk to me. Did I move too fast? I thought—”
I held my hand up, stopping him midsentence. “Mason, please, I just need a moment. That’s all.”
He ran a shaking hand over his short-shorn hair and nodded. “Yeah, okay. You remember where it is?”
“I do. I’ll only be a minute.” I hurried down the hall and into the bathroom.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright. My lips were red and swollen.
I had to get my game face on. I had to go out there and be the Hannah Mason expected me to be.
Not the flaky, neurotic woman who had fled into the bathroom.
I had to give him my body without compromising my heart.
I wasn’t sure I could do that.
Perhaps it was best to call off the plan. To let Toxicwrath know I couldn’t do it and to find another way of staying below the radar.
I splashed my face with water and wondered if I could walk away now. Could I forget about Mason? Could I allow myself to turn my back on getting the information I needed to stay free? To stay safe?
I thought about Charlotte.
I thought about the wicked, horrible people in the world who deserved the vengeance I took on them.
Could I live with myself knowing I had the ability to bring them down and could do nothing because I didn’t have the stomach to keep out of jail?
I knew the answer.
No.
I would hate myself. And the self-loathing would be intolerable.
With a tough new resolve, I quietly left the bathroom. I could see Mason in the living room, his back to me, watching the television. I had to go back in there and make things right. I had to smooth things over.
Exploited (Zero Day #1) Page 17
