As Hot As It Gets

by Jamie Sobrato

  “You are smitten!”

  “It’s a sex thing, Luc. There’s a difference.”

  “You keep saying that. I think you’re just trying to convince yourself that it’s true,” she said as she opened the door.

  Sometimes, having such an astute best friend was a real pain in the ass.

  13

  MASON TOOK IN THE SIGHT of Claire—her breasts spilling out a red-sequined bra, her waist bare and her hips and thighs hardly covered by a matching fringed skirt—and his body temperature rose.

  “Nice costume,” he said. “I thought we were supposed to meet at the party.”

  He’d gotten out of his meeting earlier than expected and had just finished putting on his own costume when he’d heard the knock at the door.

  “I changed my mind. It’s been kind of a crazy afternoon and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind skipping the party.”

  He stepped aside and let her in, then closed the door. “Crazy for you must be pretty crazy.”

  She filled him in on the drunken guest at the bar, then the impromptu crashing of the bachelor party, and he clenched his teeth to keep from spewing profanity.

  “Tell me you’re joking, that you didn’t actually go to the door of a party full of drunken men dressed like this and posing as a prostitute.”

  She looked sheepish, possibly a first for Claire. “I could tell you that, but I’d be lying.”

  “Claire!”

  “No one feels dumber than I do right now, okay?”

  “Lucy was in on this, too? I thought at least one of you had some common sense.”

  “Nothing happened, we’re both fine and I’d really appreciate it if you could stop with the guilt trip. Besides, one good thing came out of it—your security guys probably busted two of the dominatrixes.”

  Mason wanted to grab her and squeeze her, hold her close and never let her walk out the door again. Where had this insane protective urge come from? Claire was a grown woman, not one who needed his protection—but if that were true, she wouldn’t have been pulling such stupid stunts.

  So he did.

  He caught her in his arms and pulled her to him. He’d seen her in plenty of bad-girl outfits, and this one was no more or less sexy than the rest, but something else entirely had him wanting to hold her close. He got a little tight in the throat just imagining her in danger.

  “Wait.” She tried to pull away from him, but he locked his arms around her waist and held her against him. “Thank you for going to all this trouble for me. I wish you hadn’t done it, but I appreciate it.”

  “Playing the overprotective type doesn’t suit you, Mason.”

  “I’m not being overprotective, I’m being sensible.”

  “A sensible pirate, hmm?” she said, finally commenting on his costume.

  “Guess I got all dressed up for nothing if we’re skipping the party.”

  “No, definitely not for nothing,” she said, looking him over.

  “You like pirates?”

  “Mmm, hmm. I’ve always wanted to be ravaged by a dastardly pirate.”

  Mason felt himself stir. It never failed to surprise him how fast Claire could turn him on.

  “That outfit looks pretty uncomfortable. Why don’t you take it off?”

  “How will I get back to my room if I’m not wearing any clothes?” She batted her eyelashes, a complete failure at looking innocent.

  “I don’t intend to let you leave here once you have your clothes off.”

  Her eyes darted to his lips, and when she met his gaze again, she was all mischief. “I think you must have me confused with a girl who’s easy.”

  He dipped his head and tasted the satin flesh of her earlobe, then whispered into her ear, “The last word I’d use to describe you is easy.”

  She laughed and attempted to wriggle out of his grasp. “I’m warning you—you’d better let go of me or you’ll regret it.”

  “Go ahead, give me your best shot,” he said as he caught her from behind in his arms, trapping her arms at her sides.

  Claire did her best to jab him with an elbow or kick him with her heels, and Mason was surprised at her strength. When she managed to stomp his foot, he lifted her up from the ground and carried her to the couch, where he dropped her and climbed on top before she could kick him anywhere more painful.

  “You are the most troublesome woman I’ve ever met.”

  She smiled. “I bet you can’t wait until I leave Escapade.”

  He ignored the pang in his belly. It was true—part of him couldn’t wait for her to leave. And another treacherous part of him couldn’t imagine not having Claire around to make him crazy and arouse him like no other woman could.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you give me what I want.”

  She stopped struggling, went completely still. “Which is what?”

  “To get you naked and have my way with you.”

  “Only if you promise to cure me of my problem tonight.”

  “I don’t think there’s a cure for being a pain in the ass,” he said, and she clocked him on the side of the head.

  “I mean, I need you all the way out of my system before I can leave. So this is it, give it all you’ve got, and you’ll be rid of me for good.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?” Mason blurted before he could stop to consider what he meant.

  “It’s a dare,” Claire said, her expression inscrutable.

  He silenced her with one hungry kiss, and then another and another. She felt so alive, so hot, so perfect beneath him, he couldn’t imagine not having her there.

  What if this was their last night together? What if he would have this night burned in his memory forever as the last time he made love to Claire? Didn’t he want to put an end to their constant tug-of-war? It was hard to imagine why when she slid her hands down his back and gripped his ass, pushed his hips into her as she ground against him.

  This was so much more than sexual attraction. This, this, this thing between him and Claire—it was out of control.

  He stopped, stilled himself on top of her, unsure what to do with his realization.

  “You don’t want to make me mad,” Claire whispered. “I have a weapon and I know how to use it.”

  “What weapon?”

  “Sex,” she whispered.

  “Mm. You’re right, you do know how to use it.”

  Claire pushed against his chest until he sat up, and then she climbed on top of his lap and began unfastening his pants.

  “Did I ever show that trick I learned from my roommate in college?”

  “Your roommate?”

  “Off campus. His name was Phil, and he gave legendary blow jobs.”

  Mason stared at her, speechless.

  “Not to me, obviously. But he showed me his secrets.”

  She slid off the couch and between his legs, then freed his erection from his pants and held it in her palm. Mason watched as she dipped her head down, her crimson hair spilling across his belly, and he expelled an involuntary moan when she took him into her mouth.

  This. This was what he would miss.

  Not Claire herself, right?

  No, it was the way she had with his body. The way she took charge, laid claim to him and acted completely without inhibition.

  She ran her tongue along the ridge of his cock, then pulled back and let her breath cool him as she stroked his balls. He felt himself tighten, grow more and more ready, as he built up to the inevitable.

  When she took him into her mouth again, she worked some magic with her teeth that had him straining against her, every muscle of his body coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest invitation. She increased her pace, sucking, massaging, teasing and then satisfying, pushing him closer to the edge.

  But one thought kept occurring to him through the haze of his pleasure: Claire was so much more than he’d expected, so much more interesting than he’d imagined, so much harder to let go of than he’d thought she would be…. What the
hell was he supposed to do now?

  She quickened her pace more, clearing his mind of all coherent thought, and he buried his fingers in her hair. “Claire,” he gasped. “Don’t stop.”

  And then she did just that. Just as he was about to spill himself into her mouth, she pulled away, pressed her fingertips strategically against his cock, and prolonged the crazy-sweet sensation of his near-climax.

  “You want more?” she asked.

  He was both tensed and limp, powerless and ready to spring up and pin her to the floor, push himself into her and properly finish what she’d started.

  “You know I do,” he said, his voice strained.

  She smiled sweetly. “Then you’ll have to come and take what you want, dastardly pirate.”

  There was just too much to love about this wild redhead, he thought, as he stood up and stripped off his clothes, his gaze pinned on her.

  She simply sat back on the floor, her legs crossed as demurely as possible in the fringed skirt, her sweet ass peeking out the bottom of it.

  Too much to love.

  “For a woman as ballsy as you, you sure are acting suspiciously passive.”

  She batted her eyelashes. “Can’t a girl get a little domination when she needs it?”

  Mason found a condom in his wallet and put it on, then dropped to his knees and pushed Claire onto her back. “Lose the clothes and leave the sexy heels on,” he said.

  He watched her, riveted as she slowly took off her bra and let it slide down her arms until it hit the floor. Her breasts were lush and full, always managing to surprise him with their voluptuousness. Her expression full of mischief, she wriggled out of her skirt and panties, then reclined back on her elbows, wearing nothing but her shoes and a smile.

  “Woman, you drive me wild,” he said as he climbed on top of her and pushed her against the ground.

  His erection was poised to pierce her where she was the most hot and wet, nearly making him dizzy with desire.

  “You want to punish me?”

  “If you call this punishment,” he said as he pushed inside her.

  All the way, he filled her up. Watched her face transform from mischievous to lost in her own pleasure. With her body stretching and molding to him, her thighs tight around his hips, he couldn’t have taken it slow if he’d wanted to. Instead he let the force of his desire take over as he thrust into her over and over.

  With her breasts bouncing, inviting him to get closer, he lowered himself and pinned her hands over her head. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight?”

  His hips stilled with his cock buried deep inside her. She squirmed and moaned. “Please,” she whispered.

  “You’re not such a rebel now that you want something, is that it?”

  She strained against his grasp, and he let her go, but only so he could continue, faster and harder, until he could tell by her shallow, quick breathing that she was about to come.

  And then he stopped, just as she’d stopped him earlier.

  It took all his willpower, and when she squirmed beneath him, tightened her inner muscles around him, he almost lost his last shred of control.

  Before he could change his mind, he withdrew.

  “Damn you,” she whispered, but her eyes revealed the fact that she was enjoying their game.

  Resting on one elbow, he slid his fingers inside her and watched her squirm. Then he dipped his head between her legs and buried his face there. He tasted her, licked her, teased her, drank her in. She was so hot and sweet and wet and delicious, like his favorite dish spread out before him in never-ending supply.

  With his fingers pumping inside her, he found her clit with his tongue and worked her toward the climax she was moaning for. It only took moments, and then she was there. Bucking against him, crying out.

  Mason sighed against her, wishing for something he couldn’t quite name. And then he was on top of her again, buried within her, crashing into her until his own orgasm was coming on strong.

  She locked her legs around his hips and held tight to him and he came closer, closer, and then he was there in the rush of his orgasm. He spilled into her, let himself go.

  What if this was their last night together?

  The question formed in his mind out of nowhere, and he pushed it aside.

  He collapsed beside her and pulled her close, tangled his legs with hers and placed a kiss on her forehead. Out of nowhere, he knew that Claire had become too dear to him, that he’d made a huge mistake in letting her stay at the resort. Instead of working her out of his system, she’d worked herself completely under his skin.

  Mason gave himself a mental slap. He was thinking crazy—totally understandable given what they’d been doing minutes ago. He just needed to let go, let Claire leave, and in another day or two maybe there’d be another woman to distract him.

  He’d forget all about Claire.

  “You look like you’re in deep thought.”

  “Just wondering if you’re cured yet,” he lied.

  She sighed, her eyes closed, her expression one of utter relaxation. “Ask me again in ten minutes.”

  Mason brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek. With any luck, curing Claire would take the rest of the night.

  CLAIRE ABSOLUTELY was not cured.

  Not even a little bit.

  This, she’d realized, was an enormous problem. As Mason had had his face buried between her legs, his tongue working unspeakable magic, she’d had the horrible realization that her entire trip to Escapade had been a waste.

  They’d just finished making love again after having ordered room service for dinner and were lying tangled together on the bed, where Claire couldn’t imagine leaving. She wanted to stay all night, all morning, all afternoon….

  Even worse, she’d been overcome with emotion where Mason was concerned.

  Messy, complicated, wild, uncontrollable emotion. And she didn’t dare name it for fear it wouldn’t go away if she did.

  But then, how could she not name it?

  Love.

  There it was. That emotion she’d gone to great lengths to avoid in recent years. That girlish, giddy rush that she absolutely did not want to have.

  She’d accidentally fallen in love with Mason—or had she? Was it really possible to love someone she didn’t want to love? Was it possible to take less than a week of great sex and some good conversation and turn that into a truly meaningful relationship?

  Maybe not. Maybe she’d just let the constant afterglow of sex cloud her thinking. Maybe the giddy emotion she was feeling wasn’t love so much as it was the joy of being well-pleasured. Now that was a joy she hadn’t been experiencing lately.

  Not with all her fantasies about Mason preoccupying her and driving her nearly insane.

  Claire’s eyes shot open in the darkness as the truth came to her. She stared at the shadows on the ceiling cast by moonlight through the window, and she understood the truth.

  What she’d been feeling wasn’t love. It was simply the side effect of having her fantasies fulfilled.

  After all, it wasn’t very often that happened to a woman, and it was a heady experience when it did happen. Surely she’d just gotten a little befuddled by all the great sex and fantasy-fulfillment going on.

  Claire shifted under the weight of Mason’s arm, testing how easily she might be able to slip out of bed undetected. In her limited experience, he seemed to be a pretty heavy sleeper, so she could probably make a clean break.

  She’d promised tonight would be their last night together, and he clearly wanted her off his island sooner rather than later. If she could leave now and avoid any awkward goodbyes, he’d probably be thankful in the morning.

  What to do with the fact that she was nowhere near being cured of Mason, she had no idea.

  Maybe distance would give her some perspective…. Although a week ago they’d had an entire continent between them and it hadn’t done much in the way of giving her perspective.

  Quite the opposite
, actually.

  She’d thought proximity—extreme proximity—would be the cure, and yet here she was as proximate as she could be and completely uncured.

  Proximity had not only proven her fantasies correct but had shown her Mason wasn’t nearly as annoying once she got to know him a little.

  The only thing that hadn’t changed from her very first encounter with Mason was the spark in their relationship, both in and out of bed—a spark that could ignite a firestorm if handled improperly.

  If handled improperly…

  Did the answer to her dilemma lie in the very spark between them? Could it be that she could rid herself of her out-of-control desire for Mason by simply tossing the right kind of kindling into their fire?

  They’d had their share of arguments, but recent ones had been mostly in fun, fueled by their mutual love of debate. Perhaps the problem was that Claire had been holding back, being too much of a nice girl to get what she wanted—namely, to be in bed with Mason.

  Now that she wanted out of his bed, maybe she just needed to be more herself. Or maybe a slightly exaggerated version of herself…

  She’d driven away her share of men, a few of them purely by accident, just by being herself. Men were unusually intimidated by women who were too out-spoken, too strong, too independent. She wasn’t the kind of girl a guy could imagine himself protecting from the beasts with his club. She was the kind of girl who’d pick up a club and help chase the beasts away.

  And that’s just what she needed to do now.

  She couldn’t deal with another guy walking out on her for not being sweet enough, or compliant enough, or boring enough.

  She squirmed and tried to get up, untangling her legs from Mason’s and pushing his arm off of her waist, doing her best to wake him up in the process.

  He stirred, emitting a low moan, and she nudged his leg with her foot until his eyes opened.

  “Hey,” he said smiling, his voice gravelly.

  “I’m getting out of here.”

  “I thought you’d stick around for breakfast, at least.”

  “Sorry, I think we’ve both gotten what we wanted out of this relationship, wouldn’t you say?”