Charmed: A Prescott Novel (The Prescott Series Book 3)

by Joanne Schwehm

  Gretchen shivered. “I hate storms.” Her eyes were wide as she bobbed back and forth from the passenger window to the front, trying to see what was happening.

  GPS guided me to the closest hotel, and I pulled into the parking lot.

  “Go inside,” I told her. “I’ll grab our bags and meet you in there.”

  When I walked into the lobby, I was surprised. Gretchen was standing in a long line, waiting to be checked in.

  “Wow, busy place.”

  She let out a breath. “There’s a convention here. Everyone has badges on.”

  I looked around to see she was right. Then I noticed she was biting the side of her thumb, something I’d never seen her do. She was nervous.

  “It’ll be fine, Gretchen. The storm will pass.” A loud crack of thunder sounded, and her hand grabbed my forearm.

  When it was finally our turn, I said, “Hi, we’d like two rooms for the night.”

  The front-desk clerk looked at me as if I’d asked for her firstborn. “Do you have a reservation?” she asked as she tapped away on her keyboard.

  “No, we don’t. Is that a problem?”

  More tapping. It was like the lady in Meet the Fockers when she was looking for a flight for Ben Stiller.

  “We’re busy this week. It looks like I only have one room available due to the convention in town.” Her gaze darted between us as she waited for a reply.

  “How many beds does it have?” I asked.

  Before she could answer, Gretchen said, “We’ll take it.” She reached in her purse, and I immediately stopped her.

  “Gretchen, I got this.” I told the lady to wait, and gave her my credit card.

  I’d never seen Gretchen so nervous. Part of me wanted to text Drake and ask if this was a thing for her, but I didn’t want him to worry or tell him we were sharing a room.

  Fuck. We’re sharing a room.

  The bellman escorted us to the fifth floor, where he opened a room door and handed us our keycards. All I could focus on was the large king-sized bed, and the small sofa that would be my bed for tonight.

  In an instant, the room seemed to shrink. Being with Gretchen in a mansion was one thing, but being with her in the room the equivalent of a studio apartment in New York City was something completely different.

  Lightning illuminated the small room, which made her jumpy.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  Gretchen turned to me and forced a smile, but her body jerked with each crack of thunder.

  Personally, I loved storms. It was nature’s way of telling us we weren’t in charge, but I think that was exactly what bothered her.

  “How about we order room service and watch a movie?” I walked over to the small desk in the room to grab the menu.

  “That sounds good. Nothing too fancy, though.”

  “Got it.” I scanned the choices. “How about a pizza?”

  “Perfect. I’m going to go change.”

  Once our food arrived, she divvied it up and I clicked on the television. We were enjoying a rerun of The Big Bang Theory when the TV started beeping with storm warnings. I grabbed the remote and pressed the OFF button.

  Trying to distract her, I said, “Spencer texted me when you were in the bathroom. Apparently he’s having a great time with Sophie. They’re in Disneyland.” I let out a chuckle and showed her a picture of them with Goofy.

  Gretchen laughed. “I can’t imagine Soph at an amusement park loaded with kids. She has zero toddler tolerance.”

  “Then she shouldn’t hang out with Spence. His mentality is that of a toddler on most occasions.” We both laughed, trying to picture those two together. “So, what should we do? I can run downstairs to see if they have a deck of cards.” Before I could get up, she placed her hand on my leg. “Or not.” I smiled, and she blushed.

  “I’m sorry. This is ridiculous. Yes, go and see. I’ll check in back home while you’re gone. Just hurry back.”

  Forgoing the elevator, I hustled down the stairs to the lobby. I left the small gift shop with a deck of cards, a bottle of Napa Valley wine, and a bag of Sour Patch Kids.

  “Honey, I’m home,” I called out when I entered the room, and Gretchen laughed. Finally.

  “What did you get, dear?” Then she spied the yellow bag of candy. “You’re the best roomie ever.” She kissed my cheek but not before snagging the bag from my hand.

  “Not that sour candy goes with wine, but I thought it would calm you a bit. What do you say? Would you like a glass?”

  Her cheeks contorted in a way I’d never seen someone’s face do before as she popped a gummy into her mouth. There was nothing I could do but chuckle.

  “Taste good?”

  She nodded joyfully. “These are the best. Want one?”

  “After what your face just did, I think I’ll pass, but thanks.”

  Gretchen smacked my arm before I popped the cork and filled the glasses that clearly weren’t made for wine, and handed her one.

  “What should we play?” she asked. “Go Fish?”

  She sat on the floor cross-legged wearing a little blue pajama set, and the shorts rode high on her toned thighs. I did my best to keep my eyes in my head as she leaned over to grab the deck from me. Her tank top molded over her breasts, obviously sans bra, making my mouth water.

  “Sure, that sounds good.”

  Go Fish must be her favorite game because she kicked my ass over half a dozen times. She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms in front of her so her knuckles would crack before shuffling the deck as if she were a dealer on the Vegas Strip.

  While we played, we ordered another bottle of wine, which was half gone in no time.

  Gretchen giggled. “How about a different game?”

  “What do you have in mind?” I brought my glass to my lips and drained the contents. Tomorrow was going to be rough if we kept drinking like this.

  “Now that I’m warmed up, how about a game of poker?” She waggled her eyebrows as if she was a champ at this. Little did she know poker was my income source while I was in college.

  “Sure. What are the stakes?” Thunder rocked the room, but with Gretchen having a real buzz working, she hardly flinched.

  Her eyes rolled up as she contemplated her reply. “How about whoever wins gets the bed tonight?”

  “No. You’re getting the bed regardless of who wins or loses.” I leaned back against the front of the sofa and pointed with my thumb behind me. “This is my bed while we’re here. So try again, princess.”

  “That’s not fair, but whatever.” She paused before her eyes widened. “I know. Whoever wins the hand gets to ask the other a question, and they have to answer it truthfully.”

  My heart hammered in my chest at just the thought of it, but I agreed and refilled our glasses.

  Deciding on Texas Hold’em, Gretchen dealt the cards. Since we didn’t have chips, we used the packets of sweetener and swizzle sticks from our room’s coffee station.

  I was on my way to a flush when Gretchen raised me a Sweet’N Low. After I called, she turned over the river card, which happened to be the ten of hearts. Not only did I have a flush; I had a straight flush. Gretchen shimmied her butt on the carpeted floor before tossing in a swizzle stick.

  “I’ll see your stick and raise you a Splenda.” My face remained stoic while Gretchen smiled wide. She needed to work on her poker face.

  “Call. Read ’em and weep, surfer boy.” She laid her cards down, revealing three jacks. “Woo-hoo! Three of a kind.” She took a big swig of wine, emptying her glass. “Refill for the winner, please.”

  Normally that would have been a great hand, but she lost. “Sorry, beautiful.” I laid my cards down. “Straight flush.” I refilled her glass.

  Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Fine, ask your question.”

  So many possibilities ran through my brain. I knew what I wanted to ask, but thought I’d keep it clean.

  “Why are you afraid of storms?”

 
As soon as the words were out, she bit the corner of her bottom lip, making me sorry I’d asked.

  “When I was in college, Scott and I went camping. A massive storm rolled in, and all we had for shelter was tents. So I told him I wanted to go home. He insisted we stay, and said storms were cool.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to stay. You have to understand, the entire ground shook. It was awful. Scott and his buddies stayed outside to watch the lightning, and all I could think of was how the metal poles holding up the tent would attract the electric current in the sky. So I grabbed my backpack, loaded up my things, and left.”

  Hearing her story, my blood started to boil. “He let you leave?”

  “Technically, he didn’t know since he wasn’t with me. It was just getting dark, so I grabbed the keys to his car and hightailed it out of there. But the dirt roads leading to the campsite had turned to mud, and I got stuck. As I was getting out of the car, lightning hit a nearby tree, and it fell directly into my path. It scared the shit out of me. I was stuck there all night.”

  My vision blurred, not because of the alcohol I’d consumed but because Scott had never looked for her. “So, he’s been an asshole for years.” That comment slipped out, but it was too late to retract it.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, that’s why I hate storms. It’s your turn to deal.”

  The next hand went the same way. I won, so I asked a question, but this time I kept it lighthearted.

  “Name a place outside the States that you want to visit.”

  “Australia.”

  Gretchen gathered the cards and dealt the next hand, and beat me with a full house. It was her turn to ask a question.

  “If you could have one thing, what would it be? And don’t say world peace, because that’s a cop-out beauty-queen answer, and you’re definitely not a beauty queen.”

  Trying to bide my time, I asked, “Just one thing?”

  “Yup, just one. Something you’ve wanted for a while. An indulgence, if you will.”

  There was only one answer to this question.

  “You.”

  CHAPTER 21

  ~ Gretchen ~

  Mason’s answer warmed me to my core. Yes, that core.

  Between the wine, the storm, and the way he looked at me, his answer would have been my answer too. But my problem, which was ridiculous on so many counts, was still relevant. I was scared. The storm that raged outside was nothing compared to the war being waged in my heart.

  Thoughts of the past year played in my memory as a storybook, along with my plan to be with someone I loved and who loved me. The problem was, I needed to be me for a while. Not an “us” or someone’s girlfriend, just me.

  Was it the wine? It had to be.

  Needing a little distance, I playfully swatted his arm and stood up. “Get outta here. Me? Are you drunk?” That’s when I noticed his eyes were a bit red, his pupils dilated and his lids hooded.

  “Not enough that I don’t know what I want.”

  Time to test his theory. “What about all the pizza you could eat?”

  “Nope.”

  “Playing on the Olympic soccer team?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s see . . .” I swayed a bit, taking another taste of my wine. “A brand-new Harley?”

  “Gretch, no.”

  “Mason.”

  His name was spoken like a wish, a wish that with one word could come true if I wanted it to. All I needed to do was say, Yes, I want you too. Just five little words, but I didn’t have it in me.

  Mason pushed to his feet and with two short strides, he stood in front of me, his hands framing my face.

  “Don’t. Please don’t say anything. The last thing I want is to ruin our night. You asked and I answered.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “That’s it, okay?”

  Our bodies swayed, not because there was music playing, but because the wine we’d consumed made us both a bit unsteady. It was either that or the conversation we’d had.

  I fell into his arms, and he held me chest to chest in a tight embrace. Our connection was strong; there was no denying that.

  He kissed the top of my head and then leaned back, taking my hand in his. “We’ve been over this. I’d never force you into something you didn’t want. For now, I think we should try to get a good night’s sleep.” He reached for the second bottle of wine and tipped it to the side to show me it was empty.

  Damn, did I drink that much? The room tilted and spun a little, then tilted again. Mason’s arms went around my waist to steady me, but that didn’t work. We both fell onto the bed.

  “It’s been a long day.” Mason reached for a pillow and a blanket and rolled off the bed to go lie on the couch, which was absolutely ridiculous. His legs from the knees down hung over one end.

  “Mason, let me take the couch. You’re way too tall for it.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” He rolled to his side in an attempt at the fetal position, and almost ended up on the floor.

  “We can share. Plus, you can protect me from the storm.”

  One eye opened, then the other. As soon as I saw him smile, I knew I had him.

  “Come on, surfer boy, get your fine ass up here.” I giggled, and he shook his head before joining me under the covers.

  We lay with my back to his front. “There’s something about you, McDermott.”

  “Back at you, Prescott.”

  I smiled and closed my eyes, knowing full well I wasn’t going to sleep much. Mason kept his basketball shorts on, and when I asked why, he said it was because he normally slept in boxers or in the nude. That was an instant visualization that would hold a special place in my brain.

  After a bit, Mason shifted, and his even breaths made me realize he’d fallen asleep. It didn’t take long for slumber to hit me as well, but before it did, I said a quick prayer that the bed would stop acting like a Tilt-A-Whirl.

  * * *

  Moonlight dimly illuminated the room. When I tried to move, I felt like a stuffed animal in the claw machine. My hands went to my chest to feel an arm on me, then trailed down to feel a hand on my ass, which was slowing moving.

  First, there was a gentle squeeze, then it slid to my thigh, rubbing it up and down. Heat pooled between my legs. Was he doing this in his sleep? Was I dreaming?

  “Mason,” I whispered. When he didn’t say anything, I slowly rolled over to my back. His left arm was now pinned under me, and his right hand was in mine.

  Using my hand on his, I moved his fingers between my legs. All I wanted was a bit of pressure to try to alleviate this ache I had. Making my fingers the puppeteer and his, the marionette, I moved his fingers over the dampness of my shorts. Small delicate circles on my most sensitive area made me purr in delight. I was getting myself off with his hand while he was sleeping. There had to be a law against this.

  Slow sensual motions. Up, down, around, repeat. God, I needed this. His touch on me felt good, I couldn’t stop the moan that I released. Yes, this is what I needed.

  “Gretch?” His voice was gruff, sexier than it had ever been.

  “Don’t stop, Mason. Please.” Now fisting the sheet on either side of me, I realized his hand was moving of his own volition. This was the best dream ever.

  He slid my shorts and panties to the side. Holy Moses, I was wet. The way his finger easily slid up to my clit and down to just above the curve of my ass made me tremble.

  “How is this, Gretch? I’m a bit fuzzy. I need to make sure you’re not.”

  “Hmm.” My back arched and my hips lifted as an indicator of what I needed. My unspoken groaning plea was answered when he slid a finger and then two inside me, finding that elusive spot quicker than even I could.

  “Yes,” I yelled, louder than I’d intended.

  Turning my head to face him, I fused our mouths together. Our tongues mimicked the motion of his fingers. In and out, round and round, sliding, twirling, and teasing before we broke apart. My body was in dire need of an orgasm. All my senses
were on high alert, standing and cheering him on. I bit down on my lip, sure I could draw blood. The room stopped spinning, yet still was a bit tilted.

  “Gretchen, you’re close; I can feel it. You’re incredible.”

  He shifted his arm, giving his other hand access to my breasts. All I wanted was to touch him. I slid my hand downward, but Mason shifted his hips back.

  “Not now. This is all about you. Please, let me pleasure you. Show you how good it could be.”

  Who was I to argue? Before I knew it, he was between my legs, tasting, licking, sucking in a way that was completely euphoric. Instinctively, my fingers caressed his soft hair. A bright light flashed beneath my lids, and my body tightened from the undeniable orgasm that rolled through my body.

  Speechless. The man had rendered me speechless. Not an everyday occurrence.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” he said, then rolled over, making me wonder if all that just happened actually did or if I’d conjured it up in my head.

  * * *

  Grogginess, disorientation, and mass confusion clouded my head as I woke up. Stretching my arms out to the side, I practically punched Mason in the face.

  “How are you?”

  He’d yawned his words, but I understood them. Sure he didn’t want my honest answer, which was I don’t know, I lied.

  “I’m fantastic.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m a little hung over, but nothing that an aspirin and a cup of coffee won’t cure.”

  Guilt settled in my chest, and confusion flooded my veins. Before I could say any more, Mason languidly rolled out of bed.

  “I’m going to go take a shower.” He moved the curtain to the side, letting the sunshine in. “Looks like a beautiful day. We should grab breakfast and head out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Mason grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom.

  I quickly called Lucy. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Hey, Lucy. I’m good.” I let out a breath.

  “Hmm, you don’t sound good. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I just have a bit of a headache. Too much wine, I guess.”