He waited until he and Sara were at the exit to Mission Street before he finally holstered his gun.
Sara turned to him as soon as they were outside. An amused light twinkled in her eyes as she slipped her palm into his.
“Why do I get the feeling that you two weren’t talking about the city back there?” she asked.
He tightened his grip on her hand.
“Because we weren’t.”
Chapter Ten
Sara’s stomach growled the second she passed through the front door of Mason’s apartment, loud enough to make him arch a brow and turn her way.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I guess so,” she admitted.
“I don’t think the frittata burned too badly if you want to try it.”
Sara crinkled up her nose. The thought of room temperature eggs didn’t sound appealing.
“Is it still good?” she asked.
“Maybe. Probably. There’s only one way to find out,” he said with a wink. He cut slices of the frittata. “If I’m wrong, the bathroom is the first door on the right.”
Sara stilled halfway to the counter, her eyes widening. “Or, you know, we could just make a sandwich.”
“I’m just kidding.” He laughed, and slid her plate over to her. “It’s served cold all the time.”
She narrowed her eyes at the dish as she jumped up onto the stool. This time, Mason stayed firmly on the other side of the island. He must have noticed her skepticism, because he cut a large portion, and made a show of sliding the bite into his mouth.
“See. It’s fine,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “Better than fine, actually. It’s damned good.”
Sara glanced at her plate.
Well, all right. She guessed if it was good enough for him, she might as well give it a shot. She was really hungry, after all.
She tensed a little as she took the first bite, but almost instantly relaxed. Mason was right. The frittata was good. Really good.
A wide smile spread across his face as she immediately shoveled another bite into her mouth.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “There’s plenty more if you want seconds.”
It was a good thing too, because it didn’t take Sara long to inhale what was on her plate. She must have been hungrier than she realized. Mason was waiting with another slice the moment her plate was clean.
“Thank you,” she said, going much slower on this piece. “I guess I had a bigger appetite than I realized.”
“I hear breaking into delusional criminals’ apartments will do that to a person.”
“I take it you didn’t like him,” Sara said, taking a break from eating long enough to pull the necklace out of her pocket. She placed the prize on the countertop in front of her, taking the time to spread the gems in an oval so it was perfectly displayed.
“Did I like the deranged, narcissistic thief that stole a priceless piece of history for nothing more than his own amusement?” he asked. “No, I didn’t.”
“I don’t know,” she said, taking another bite, while she admired the sparkling diamonds. “I thought he was kind of charming.”
When Sara looked up, she found Mason standing tall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Really?” One eyebrow was cocked in a high arch. “If he was so charming then why did you spend so much time hiding behind me?”
He couldn’t actually be jealous, could he? Sara didn’t bother hiding the grin that lifted her lips.
“I did say kind of,” she teased.
“The only good thing you’ll hear me say about that man is that he was smart enough to hand over the necklace without a fight.”
Sara’s gaze flashed back to the diamonds. “Yeah, he did,” she said slowly. The only trouble was that the action didn’t make any sense. None at all. “But why?”
“Because he didn’t want to get shot.”
It was a damned good reason, she had to admit. The only trouble was that it just didn’t seem right. She hadn’t sensed a single whiff of fear from James the entire time they’d been in his apartment.
Of course, she had to admit that she’d had a hell of a time trying to read him. He didn’t have any tells—none that she could figure out, at any rate. Hell, she wasn’t even sure the name he’d given them was real.
James.
He seemed truthful enough when he’d given it, but Sara couldn’t shake the feeling that it was what the man didn’t tell them that was really important. He was hiding his true identity for a reason. A big reason.
She didn’t dwell on that long. After all, that was the kind of omission Sara could understand.
But just giving up the score of a lifetime without a single complaint—well, that Sara couldn’t wrap her head around at all. She’d known a lot of thieves in her life, and none of them would have done what James, the mystery thief, had. Not a single one.
There was something that she wasn’t seeing. Why had he asked what the necklace did? Not what it was worth, or what significance it had, but what it did?
Maybe she was thinking about this too hard. Maybe it was just a cultural difference. He obviously wasn’t from around here. She’d tried placing his accent, but hadn’t managed yet. He wasn’t South African. Definitely not Russian. But greed was greed and he didn’t appear to have the emotion.
“You’re right. I’m probably overthinking the whole thing,” Sara said. She hooked her finger under the clasp and lifted the necklace off the countertop. “But now that we finally have the Evening Star, what are we going to do with it?”
“That’s easy,” Mason said, finishing his last bite. He laid his fork down over his empty plate. “We put it in my safe.”
Sara raised an eyebrow. “You’re not thinking of keeping it, are you?”
“Just for the night. Tomorrow morning you can contact Malcolm and let him know you have his ransom.”
She bit into her lower lip and worried it for a second. Her heart started to pound, as uncertainty turned into anxiety. This situation just kept getting stranger by the second. She was eager to have it done.
“You think that we should wait that long? Why not call him now?”
“Because, if you contact him now, he’ll want to meet now,” Mason said, gathering up the plates, and stacking them in the sink. “We need to stick to the plan. Tomorrow morning, we’ll both be well rested. We can contact the team, and go after Malcolm, just like we discussed.”
“And Malcolm will have a whole other night to hurt my mom and dad.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to anymore. Her fears were growing larger with every passing moment, and trying to keep them inside wasn’t helping.
Mason’s blue gaze snapped to hers. She saw the truthful resolve shining in his eyes. “That’s not going to happen, Sara,” he said. “Your parents are the only leverage that Malcolm has over you. If anything were to happen to them, he would lose all his power. I promise you, he’s not going to risk that.”
“But how can you be sure?”
“Because Malcolm’s power relies on your compliance. Without it, he’s got nothing. He may talk big, but at this point, he needs your goodwill a hell of a lot more than you need his.”
Sara sucked in a deep breath. At least, she didn’t have any problems reading Mason. He was telling her the truth, plain and simple. More than that, his words made sense. Her pulse started to calm as reassurance washed over her.
“All right,” she agreed with a nod. “Where’s your safe?”
“In my bedroom.”
Sara blinked. Of course, it was. Holding on to the necklace, she slid from the stool as he rounded the island and followed him across the large open living room to the half open door on the far side.
Mason’s bedroom was every bit as modern and masculine as the rest of the apartment. His bed was huge, dominating the airy, minimalistic space. His walls were steel gray, his bedding the color of slate. The only bit of ornamentation was a small modern paint
ing hanging on the wall.
Sara knew instantly that had to be where he hid his safe.
Sure enough, Mason strode over to it, and grasped the edge of the metallic frame. It must have been mounted on a hidden hinge, because the painting swung out revealing a flat safe face plate underneath. He quickly punched in a series of six numbers, and the door popped open. Mason stepped out of the way, letting her place the diamonds inside. Then, he closed it up.
“There you go,” he said, turning around to face her. “It’s safe and sound for the night.”
Sara flashed him a brief smile. It was cute that he thought so. She took a step away from the wall. Of course, there wasn’t anywhere in the room but toward the bed. She pushed her hair behind her ear as she looked at the wide mattress.
She had to admit it looked a hell of a lot more comfortable than hers—plush and top of the line. Her body would probably sink into it like a cloud when she curled up on it. Hell, the springs probably wouldn’t even squeak loud enough to wake her up when she rolled over in the middle of the night. That sounded like heaven, because God knew, she needed a good night’s sleep.
Then again, she might be getting a little ahead of herself.
“Do I get the bed?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered. “What kind of host would I be if I forced you to spend the night out on the couch?”
“A pretty inexperienced one.” And they both knew that wasn’t the case. The exhaustion of the day must have finally gotten to her, because a bubble of laughter escaped. “Then again, maybe the couch is a better choice after all. I mean, just how clean are these sheets?”
Sara turned around, but Mason was right behind her. So close that her body brushed against his hard chest. He didn’t step back. In fact, he didn’t move at all. He just looked at her. His blue eyes shimmered with humor but also an intensity that Sara couldn’t pretend to mistake. She’d seen it before—a couple of times now—right before he kissed her senseless.
Deep down Sara knew that there wasn’t going to be an interruption to stop them this time. No burning dinners, no phone calls, no knocks on the door. If she didn’t walk away now, she was going to spend the rest of the night making love to Mason Wright.
Was that what she wanted?
Stupid question. Of course, she did. Who wouldn’t? Even now the coil of tension was ratcheting tighter inside her core. But did she want what came after? And could she even guess what that was?
Would he shuffle her to the side after this was all over? Or maybe she would be the one to walk away and never look back. Wasn’t that what she did after all of her love affairs? So, why would this one be any different? And why did it bother her so much to imagine this one would be the same?
Maybe it was because of this strange connection she felt with Mason. It went beyond the pull of his crystal blue eyes. He made her smile. He made her laugh. He held her tight when she was breaking apart. More than any of that, she believed him when he said everything was going to be okay, and he would stay by her side until it was.
Maybe that was what made the thought of walking away from him so difficult.
He must have read the concern in her eyes, because he lifted his hand to her face, tracing his fingers down the curve of her cheek.
“You know, I’m not the player you make me out to be,” he said.
“I don’t really care,” she whispered, more to herself than him.
“Liar,” he said with a breathy laugh. “You hate the idea of just being another in a long line of women. But you’re not.”
She arched a brow. “And how many others have heard the same thing?”
“A few. Enough I can count them on one hand,” he answered honestly. “And I meant it every time. I’ve been in love before, Sara.”
Sara’s eyes widened at the four letter word.
Love.
Sure, he wasn’t saying it to her. It would be weird if he was. They’d only known each other for two days, after all, but even bringing it up now was enough to give her pause.
Was that the seed sprouting inside her? Were those the tendrils that were beginning to wrap around her heart love? Was Mason saying that he felt the same thing?
Sara couldn’t tell. Her emotions were running too high for her to read him effectively. All she knew was that she wanted to believe it was true. That he felt this same binding connection. That he was reacting to that, not just the promise of the momentary pleasure that could be found between his sheets.
Not that she didn’t want that as well.
Hell, she wanted all of it. All of him. Almost desperately. She had from the first moment that she’d laid eyes on him. And now she had a chance to have him. She’d be a fool not to take it.
God only knew what was going to happen tomorrow. There was no guarantee that her plan would work. There were too many variables. Too many opportunities for Malcolm to realize her double-cross. And if he did…well, whether or not she was just another notch in Mason’s bedpost would be the least of her worries.
She swallowed past the lump of anticipation quickly forming in her throat.
Better to drink from the cup of life while she still had the chance.
She pressed deeper into his touch. He cupped his other hand against her face, cradling her head as he lowered his mouth to hers. Heat radiated through her the moment their lips touched.
He kept the kiss light, allowing her to feel so much more than just his passion—the strength and skill in his fingers, the gentle scrape of his five o’clock shadow, the soft warmth of his mouth. The delicious mix of sensations made Sara’s head swirl. So much so, that she made a little sound of protest a moment later when he slowly pulled away.
“You have to believe me when I say you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he said. “You fascinate me.”
A blush lit her cheeks. It wasn’t modesty alone lighting her up like a candle.
“Maybe you just need to start hanging out with more interesting people,” she said.
His smile widened. The intensity in his eyes grew. “Maybe.”
He came in for another kiss, going deeper this time. Sara sucked in a sharp breath as his tongue swept against her bottom lip. He moved his hands, gliding down her neck…her shoulders…the length of her arms, until his fingers curled around the bottom of her shirt.
He lifted it up, high above her head, before tossing it onto the floor behind him.
Sara followed his lead. She slid her hands between them. She tried her best but her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. After a frustrating couple of seconds, Mason let out a little laugh.
“You’re honestly going to tell me that you can bypass one of the world’s most sophisticated security systems but buttons give you trouble?”
“Shut up,” she growled. “Some of us don’t take other people’s clothes off on a daily basis.”
“More’s the pity,” he said, shooting her a wicked grin. “Let me help you.”
He inched back far enough to undo his shirt. Sara’s lips involuntarily parted as his defined chest came into view. The breath caught in her throat when he revealed the deep lines of his washboard abs. By the time he slid the shirt over his shoulders, her mouth was hanging open.
She lifted her hands and stroked them over every rise and fall of his hard musculature. Damn, there was no denying that the man felt good. Real good.
“Maybe I should start practicing more,” she said, lifting her gaze to his.
“It does have its benefits.”
He reached behind her and, in an easy one-handed move, flicked open the hooks and eyes of her bra clasp. The lacy material fell from her shoulders.
The look in Mason’s eyes changed instantly. His focus sharpened. The hunger in his eyes intensified.
In the next heartbeat, he closed the distance between them. Sara’s breasts pressed against his chest. Her head tilted back at the skin on skin contact, and, just like that, his mouth was on hers.
There was nothing gentle ab
out their kisses now. Sara’s passion increased. Each swipe of his tongue only made it grow.
She clung tight to his shoulders as he guided her toward the mattress.
“Let me show you what else a little practice can do,” he whispered against her ear.
His experienced hands made quick work of her pants, and before Sara knew it, she was lying naked on his sheets. He slowly slid his body up against hers—his torso pressing against her side, his mouth nuzzling the column of her neck, his hand settling between her legs.
Sara’s spine arched the moment the meaty edge of his palm rubbed against her clit.
“Oh God, yes,” she said.
Her legs opened wider, just as Mason slipped a finger inside her. Then another. His fingertips found the sensitive spot inside and played there, relentlessly.
Sara’s eyes closed. Her head crashed back into the soft embrace of his pillows. Her mouth fell open as she struggled to breathe. It was as if her body couldn’t do anything but feel the pleasure he was giving her.
She panted and twisted in his grip, simultaneously desperate for release and praying the pleasure wouldn’t end.
“Christ.” His low growl rumbled through her. “You’re so hot.”
He kept going, patiently stoking the fire inside her, until she didn’t think she could stand anymore.
Sara’s fingers twisted into the soft sheets beneath her. Her body writhed. Her moans echoed off the walls.
And finally, she shattered.
Waves of pleasure crashed through her, each one stronger than the last, until she was certain they’d wracked her completely.
But Mason wasn’t done yet.
He shifted at her side, and she opened her eyes to see him sliding his pants off and a condom on. Then, he lifted himself up and between her legs.
Sara let out a long breath as he propped himself up on bent arms, pressing his body against hers as the tip of his cock teased her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. His lips found hers.
Sara still hadn’t fully come down from her first orgasm when Mason entered her. The walls of her pussy gripped him tight, and he hissed in a sharp breath.
Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 Page 13
