Taken Home (Lone Star Burn)

by Ruth Cardello

  “Did you feel that way?” Chelle asked, laying a gentle hand on one of his thighs.

  He covered her hands with one of his own. “I did and made a lot of bad choices because of it.”

  The squeeze she gave his thigh was meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t supposed to send his blood rushing downward to his overly eager cock.

  “You were so young. And then you lost your mother. You’re allowed a few mistakes.”

  In all the years that had passed since that time, Mason hadn’t shared his story with anyone besides Charles. For a reason he couldn’t explain to himself, he wanted Chelle to see him for who he was. “That time in my life changed me, Chelle. Not necessarily in a good way.”

  Chelle’s eyes flew to his. “Why does that sound like a warning?”

  He laced his fingers with hers. “There’s something between you and me. I know you feel it, too. We’d be good together, Chelle, until you realized I can’t be the man you’re looking for.”

  Chelle looked down at their linked hands. “And what do you think that is?”

  He watched her expression closely as he said, “A dependable husband. Someone with a nine-to-five job. A father for children you’ve probably already named. Someone who will want to live happily ever after with you in Fort Mavis.”

  Chelle whistled softly, and she looked as though she felt a little sick. “Wow. Here I was thinking I needed to figure out what to do with my life because I didn’t know, but thank God you have a whole future planned out for me.”

  He searched her face and was about to say more, but they arrived at the governor’s home. The driver opened the door and helped Chelle out. Mason took his place beside her. He could feel the tension in her back. “We don’t have to go in.”

  The smile on her face seemed forced for the benefit of those watching them walk into the event. “I’m fine. I’m merely amazed how little you know me.”

  He took her elbow in one of his hands and pulled her closer. “I’m not judging your decisions.”

  Her beautiful eyes met his solemnly. “What are you so afraid of, Mason?”

  His hand tightened on her elbow. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She laid a hand on his cheek and said softly, “Then don’t.”

  He covered her hand with his. “It’s not that simple.”

  He felt her smile before he saw it.

  “My father would say, ‘Life is only as complicated as you make it.’”

  “No offense, but I don’t want to think about your father right now,” Mason growled softly. He bent and kissed her, forgetting about the press that was gathered at the entrance of the charity event.

  The moment was broken by photographers closing in and some of the press calling out questions to them. “Senator Thorne, why the fast engagement?” “Who is she?” “Have you chosen a wedding date?” “Senator Thorne, is it true you were considering running for governor but were warned that your image needed to be whitewashed? Is that why you’re getting married?” “Senator Thorne, what does Ruby Skye think of your engagement?”

  Mason turned to the press with a forced natural smile. Ruby was an old friend from his acting days. They hadn’t slept together in years, but Ruby still sometimes called when she needed a date who wouldn’t read anything into the invitation, someone who could handle himself in front of cameras. The press had linked them as a couple as many times as they’d written fictional accounts of them breaking up. The truth was Mason only helped Ruby because he understood why she needed to sometimes be with someone who expected nothing from her.

  Mason didn’t argue with the press. He wrapped an arm around Chelle and stood proudly beside her. Paparazzi didn’t care about the truth. They wanted a good story. It was better to give them a sound bite than to leave them floundering and creating their own. “My fiancée was born and raised in a small town in Texas. She looks sweet, but her best friend is the Takedown Cowgirl, and we all know not to mess with her. Chelle Landon has stolen my heart and is hell-bent on reforming me. Let’s give her time to settle in before scaring her with stories of how monumental that feat will be.” He winked at just the right moment and was rewarded with an audible sigh from the female reporters.

  Mason glanced down at Chelle to make sure she was okay and was pleasantly surprised with how she handled herself before the cameras. She didn’t know the press well enough to understand how quickly they could turn on her, but that was another lesson he hoped she wouldn’t learn from her time with him. He and Chelle stood for several photos before turning to continue their walk into the event.

  One of the reporters yelled out, “Ms. Landon, do you really think you can reform one of California’s most notorious bachelors?”

  Chelle looked over her shoulder at the reporter and beamed at him. “With love, anything is possible.” With her down-home tone, she won over the crowd as easily as he ever had. They were snapping her photo and smiling back at her. He doubted there would be a local station that didn’t run a photo or video clip of them together.

  Together.

  Mason’s throat tightened, and he found it impossible to breathe for a heartbeat. He knew she was acting. Like him, she was saying what the press wanted to hear and keeping their charade believable. So why did he feel like a man who’d received a sucker punch?

  Wanting to sleep with Chelle was one thing, but watching her handle the media with ease, then turn and smile at him as if it were the most natural thing left him shaking in his Brooks Brothers. She isn’t supposed to fit here. Being with her shouldn’t feel this right.

  Mason spent the next three hours watching Chelle win over everyone she met. She appeared to sincerely enjoy meeting new people and did so with a grace she’d hidden well the first time he’d met her. She chatted easily with the wives and joked with the husbands in a nonthreatening way that put both at ease.

  When Senator Goss joined them, Mason was tempted to warn her to keep her jokes to a minimum. Goss was as starched stiff as they came. He’d had it out for Mason ever since Mason’s freshman year in the senate when Mason had accidentally slept with the wife of the majority floor leader. The woman had told Mason she was single. The truth was she and her husband were separated, and she’d been looking for a way to pay him back for his own infidelity. The truth hadn’t mattered. The story of how Mason had broken up a marriage within six months of being in office had laid the foundation for how his fellow senators saw him.

  Chelle flashed her sweetest smile at Senator Goss and complimented him on receiving an award that had made the news. That one comment seemed to win Goss over. He asked her about her home in Texas, and she told him about Fort Mavis. In a span of only a few minutes, Chelle had Goss doing something Mason had never seen—smiling.

  “I grew up in a small town, too,” the older senator said in gruff approval. “Thorne, you’ve got a good woman here.”

  Mason put his arm around Chelle’s waist lightly. “I’m aware of that.”

  Goss waved a stern finger at Chelle. “What does your father think of Thorne?”

  Even though Mason knew Chelle’s answer would be a fabrication, he found he wanted to hear it. She glanced up at Mason with an adoration that started his heart pounding painfully in his chest. She deepened her usually light drawl for effect and said, “My father should have been born in Missouri. He’s a ‘show me’ kind of man. If Mason is good to me, my father will come round. If Mason’s not, don’t worry; we’ll bury him real quiet like.” She voiced the threat with an angelic smile that won a loud laugh from Senator Goss.

  With a nod of approval, the senator said, “Thorne, if you marry this one, I may have to change my opinion of you. She sees something in you. I hope she’s right.”

  Normally, Mason would have answered with a sarcastic retort that would have set Goss back a step, but instead he met Chelle’s guileless gaze and said, “I hope so, too.”

  Chelle blushed beneath the attention and looked away. He wanted to tell her it was all for show, but he wasn’t sure
it was.

  His mother had been high-strung and emotional. He’d loved her, but being around her had always been difficult. One misplaced word had been enough to set her off. His father had taken care of her the best he could, but he wouldn’t have described his mother as a strong woman.

  Not like Chelle.

  The more he learned about her, the more he understood how she had gotten to twenty-five without sleeping with a man. She had definite ideas about how things ought to be and wasn’t influenced by fear of what others thought of her. He had the sinking feeling he was in the presence of what, at least in his experience, was a rare find—a genuinely good person.

  A woman like that has no business with a man like me.

  Later that night, Chelle rode up the elevator of her hotel beside a pensive Mason. Although they had successfully convinced everyone at the charity event, including the attending press, that they were engaged, Mason didn’t look happy. They had ridden back from the event in relative silence, a state that had given her far too much time to think.

  She stole a glance at Mason’s profile. How could someone who had everything sometimes look so lost? Turn a camera on Mason and his smile alone could melt his opposition; he was simply that good-looking. Add money and a dash of fame, and he was living most people’s fantasy life. So why did he look tormented when he thought no one was watching? What dark thoughts haunted him?

  She’d spent the evening torn between wanting him physically and wanting to comfort him. It took only the slightest touch from him anywhere on her body to set her on fire. She craved to feel that way again, to know what pleasure could be found beyond their light kisses.

  What if he’s the only one who makes me feel this way? How can I walk away from a chance to taste real passion? I know I said I wanted to wait to be with someone who might matter, but how could anything that feels this good be wrong?

  Chelle slid her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. He looked down at her, and his nostrils flared as he seemed to read her thoughts. She sent him a mental message: I don’t want to fight this anymore. Take me.

  The elevator door opened, and they walked to the door of her hotel room. Chelle dropped his hand to find the key card to her door. She swiped it, opened the door, then sought his eyes again. “Mason?”

  He raised a hand to cup one side of her face. His jaw was tight with determination. “You did well tonight, Chelle. My bill may just pass, and I’ll have you to thank. You brought over a few votes tonight that have opposed me in the past simply out of spite. I bet you didn’t realize politics was so much like high school.”

  Chelle was finding it hard to concentrate on anything beyond the way his lips moved as he spoke. She imagined how they’d feel inching their way down her neck. How his strong hands would feel as they pushed the fabric of her dress aside, giving his mouth access to more of her, to as much of her as he wanted. “I’m glad I could help.”

  He ran a thumb softly over her parted lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Chelle. There is only one way kissing you would end.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” she murmured.

  He groaned. “We both know you want—”

  Chelle grabbed Mason by the tie and pulled his face down to just above hers. She threw her arms around his neck and whispered, “This is what I want.”

  She closed the short distance between their lips and kissed him with all the desire that had been building up within her since the first moment she’d met him. Her body melted against his. Their kiss deepened hungrily, desperately.

  Mason swung her up into his arms and kicked the hotel door shut behind him. He lowered her to her feet beside the bed. “I can’t promise you forever. Or even next week. Nothing we said today was true. I need to know you understand that.”

  His blue eyes darkened with emotion, and his concern for her had the opposite effect he was hoping for. Mason cared about her. No matter what he said, he was clearly giving her another chance to leave, trying to protect her from what he thought would hurt her. What he didn’t understand was that she would never regret being with him, even if she woke up alone. Before him, she hadn’t known it was possible to want a man so intensely that pride fell away. The real tragedy would be not how quickly he left her, but how sad her life would have been had he never shown her she was right to want more.

  “You do a lot of talking for a man who says he’s so good in bed.” Chelle unzipped the back of her dress and let it drop to the floor around her. She stood there proudly in her chaste cotton bra and panties, glorying in the knowledge that what he wanted had nothing to do with what she was wearing. She unsnapped her bra and dropped it beside her. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped out of her high heels and slid off her panties. She stood before him, nude and amazingly unafraid.

  He raised a hand to gently caress one of her excited nipples. “And you’re pretty damn bold for a virgin.”

  Their breathing became ragged and loud. She raised her chin and said huskily, “Just because I’ve never done it, doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

  He teased her nipples to a sensitivity level that made speech nearly impossible. “And what is that?”

  Chelle closed her eyes, succumbing to the waves of pleasure that rippled through her. His fingers were magic. “You, Mason. I want you.”

  From what little experience she had, she expected Mason to rush, to take what he claimed to want as badly as she did. She shivered with excitement as he ran his hands over her as if he were a blind man learning every curve of her. “Open your eyes, Chelle. Look at me.”

  She did, and he pulled her to him, caressing her with a wondrous blend of roughness and expertise, bringing each inch of her skin alive with his touch. When she raised her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt, he took her hands and placed them back at her sides.

  “Don’t touch me. I don’t want to rush.”

  She stood there, her body humming beneath his caresses. “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered.

  “Enjoy,” he growled.

  Oh yes.

  He began to kiss every place his hands had explored. His lips brushed over her skin. His tongue teased spots she hadn’t known were sensitive. “Tell me what you like.”

  She gasped as his mouth closed over one of her nipples and his tongue flicked back and forth over it. “I like it all.”

  He chuckled against her breast and ran a hand down her stomach. His fingers parted her folds and exposed her clit. He teased her with his thumb at the same time as his tongue continued its intimate assault, and she dug a hand into his hair. “Oh, that’s good, too. You are amazing.”

  He kissed his way to her other breast, and her hips rocked with pleasure against his hand. He chuckled again. “I’ve barely started.”

  His fingers slid back and forth between her wet folds, returning to caress her nub in a way that made her forget she was standing. She was floating before him, aware of nothing beyond his scent, his mouth, and the way his hands played her as if he were tuning a precious instrument.

  When he kissed her again, she had already given herself over to his pleasure and her own. She opened her mouth wider to his, placed a foot on the edge of the bed to open herself more to his hand. She couldn’t stop herself—her hands went to the enormous bulge in the front of his pants, and she caressed him, loving the hard promise of what he was offering.

  He kissed his way down her stomach and across the inner thigh of the leg she’d poised on the bed. “Lie down,” he ordered.

  She dropped to the bed with an eagerness that sent her backward in a bounce. Desperate to not lose the mood, she scooted forward too far, and ended up half sitting on the floor before him. She was struggling to regain her balance when he lifted her and placed her back on the bed.

  “Stay,” he ordered with a grin that was sex and humor combined.

  Her feet and behind were hanging precariously off the edge of the bed, but she wasn’t going anywhere. He dropped to his knees, settled himself between
her legs, and balanced her with his hands. His lips moved closer and closer until his hot breath teased her mound. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Chelle gripped the bed sheets around her. With any other man, she would have felt awkwardly exposed, but Mason had a way of looking at her that made her feel as beautiful as he said she was. She was trying to summon enough coherence to say something to him, when his mouth closed over her sex and his tongue began an intimate dance with her clit.

  Nothing else mattered. There was only Mason and the fire he sent shooting through her womb. It wasn’t just that Mason was good; it was also that he seemed to instantly home in on what brought her the most pleasure. Each time she thought it couldn’t get better, he brought her to a new level, changing something he was doing just enough to have her crying out uncontrollably. She’d experienced orgasms before, but her own hand had never brought her to a state of mindless begging.

  He dipped his tongue inside her and then laved her sex roughly. She nearly came then, but it was a few moments later, when he slid one finger inside her while his mouth continued to work its magic on her clit, that she had her first mind-boggling, profanity-inspiring climax.

  He stood, still dressed and looking as pleased as a pirate surveying his bounty as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Undress me,” he commanded.

  She raised a hand weakly. “I may need a moment.”

  “Now,” he ordered, and desire shot through Chelle again. She was on her knees almost instantly, and he helped her back onto her feet. He rewarded her obedience with a kiss so hot it almost had her flopping back onto the bed. He tasted of her and him, and the mixture was intoxicating in a way she’d never imagined.