by Kendall Ryan
“Years ago,” I confessed, averting my gaze.
“I wondered,” he murmured.
“Something about me just screams cat lady?” I joked.
“No.” He shook his head. “You were…I could tell.”
“How could you tell?” I narrowed my eyes, wondering what in the hell he meant. That I was so inexperienced and rusty it gave me away? White hot annoyance crept up my spine and landed on the back of my neck. Maybe I’d just discovered a minor flaw marring his perfect resume.
“Honestly? You were just so tight,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve been wondering ever since then if it was because you hadn’t been with anyone for a while, or if maybe you always feel that way. So wet and warm and—”
There was no denying the surge of need building between my thighs now, and my breath caught as I met his gaze. “I-I don’t know.”
His eyes went dark and his jaw tensed.
“Only one way to find out,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Bren
I should have said no.
I will be the first person to admit that, when propositioned by my potential baby daddy, the answer should have been unequivocal and sure.
No.
No thank you.
Not again.
But that answer, of course, didn’t factor in the way he looked at me—the way his blue eyes raked over my skin like he was touching it already, laving it with his tongue and readying me for his thick, hard cock.
I licked my bottom lip, trying to work up the discipline to stop this freight train of lust before it left the station. Still, if I slept with him again, maybe it really would put all my worries to rest. That night could have been amazing simply because it had been so long for me. What could it hurt to put my assumptions to rest? Yeah, right. It could hurt me.
Now, after I’d already been sated by him once, there was no way his body could have the same effect. No, this time would be a tepid bath compared to the hot, steamy whirlpool that the last time had been.
Which meant giving it a try could only be a good thing.
I struggled to breathe in the heavy silence, and then Mason finally spoke.
“Let’s take things slow. We won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”
I nodded. Slow. That was a good idea. And one I could get behind.
He inched closer on the couch, lowering his mouth toward my neck.
“Just want to touch you,” he murmured. His full lips brushed my collarbone, making me shiver.
Trailing soft kisses up my neck, my jawline, Mason finally brought his mouth to mine.
Our lips met in a hungry kiss, our bodies remembering every touch, every breath with perfect clarity.
“No pressure, okay?” Mason whispered, encouragingly against my lips.
I nodded, gripping the back of his neck to draw him in for another kiss.
Soon his hand slid up my thigh, only stopping when he brushed the front of my panties. My knees parted for him on instinct.
He stroked the front of my dampened panties, finding the spot that made me squirm.
“More,” I groaned.
“I knew I liked you,” he chuckled against my mouth.
Slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, Mason penetrated me, slowly.
“You’re not tender, are you?” he whispered.
“Damn it, Mason. Don’t treat me like I’m…”
“Pregnant?” he supplied.
My answering frown implored him in a wordless request not to destroy the mood.
“Duly noted.”
Adding a second finger, he pressed deeper, making me cry out. Damn, the man was skilled, but something gnawed at the back of my brain. I wanted this, I did, it was just that…if we weren’t careful, I could easily see myself losing my head. And what if I wasn’t pregnant? This is exactly what had gotten me into this pickle in the first place.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I mumbled, pulling back to put several inches of space between us. “This isn’t slow.”
“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “No, I guess it’s not.”
Mason looked down at my swollen lips, touching me there with his fingertips. “How’s this? No sex. But we both get to come.”
I was nodding before my brain even processed my agreement. “I like how you compromise.” I liked a lot of things about him, I was finding out. But in my heart, I already knew. Because if I didn’t really like him, I wouldn’t want to run away from him every time a new wave of unwelcome emotion flowed over me.
He lifted my calf, planting my foot beside me on the couch so that my legs were open for him. “Don’t move. I want you just like this.” Slipping his fingers past the edge of my panties, he stroked just where I needed him. My entire body clenched and squeezed, wanting so much more, but already dangerously close to falling over the edge.
Mason brought his mouth to mine once again, kissing me deeply while his fingers did very naughty things.
I struggled to get his pants open, fumbling with the button. When he knocked my hands away, I couldn’t help the soft, happy noise that escaped me.
He freed himself, stroking once. The bead of moisture at his tip distracted me in the most wonderful way.
“You going to look at it all night, or are you going to touch me?” he groaned.
Taking my hand in his, he guided it to his cock.
I took him into my hand and stroked gently at first, then harder. He dropped his head back against the couch and allowed me to have my way with him, every now and then letting out a little grunt of approval.
I’d thought that first night he seemed so big only because it had been so long since I’d been with someone—and even longer since I’d wanted someone so much. Now, though? Looking at him again? I knew I’d been wrong. He was thick and long and throbbing for me.
“Need you to touch me,” I moaned.
“Fuck yes.”
His fingers were back at work, and within moments I was writhing beneath his touch.
“Going to come,” I murmured.
“Not yet you’re not.” He slowed his pace, teasing my swollen flesh as I rocked my hips into his touch, vying for more attention. “Together,” he whispered, kissing my lips again. “Grip me a little tighter.”
I obeyed.
“That’s it,” he grunted. “Fuck.”
He was so sexy like this, so masculine. I loved how bossy he was during sex. How vocal.
Still kissing me, Mason returned his attention to my lady bits, making white light spark behind my eyelids.
“I’m so close,” I whispered against the onslaught of his kisses.
“Take your time. I’m in no rush.”
I’d forgotten that about him—his stamina…and a delicious flashback of our night together ripped through my brain.
“Mace…”
“That’s it. Come for me. I’m right behind you.”
I pumped my hand firmly up and down, my climax crashing through me just as I felt his hot, sticky release. Together.
Remembering our night together, I realized again how uncanny it was how in sync we were. This wasn’t normal, was it?
Pulling his T-shirt off over his head, Mason balled it up and used it to wipe the semen off my hand, and then his rock-hard abs.
What kind of man cooked a perfect steak, delivered prenatal vitamins to you at work, and then brought you to orgasm in five minutes flat?
Chapter Fifteen
Bren
What had just happened… What was everything I had just felt? It was too much, too fast. Overwhelming and scary and real and if I didn’t get away soon, it would only get worse. White-hot panic enveloped me, creeping into every single cell in my body. It screamed for attention.
I had to get out of here.
With every breath, every beat of my heart, I knew it.
My heart was still hammering wildly as I pulled away, trying not
As I stood, Mason fastened his pants again and then paused, shooting me a questioning glance.
“I’m going to get changed and we can decide what to do for the rest of the night,” he called over his shoulder, his gaze raking over my body and sending a shiver through me.
Slowly I trailed behind him, trying to come up with some excuse for why I couldn’t stay. I didn’t have a dog or cat to feed and no roommate was waiting for me at home. I didn’t have to work the next day. Still, I didn’t think “I’m a big fat chicken” felt like a valid excuse, and it certainly wasn’t one I wanted to utter out loud. This whole damn situation defied logic so I couldn’t justify my behavior. I wanted to run. Period.
With a deep breath, I followed him into the bedroom and watched as he pulled on a hoodie and pajama pants, then tossed a T-shirt and pants onto his gray comforter.
He nodded toward the clothes. “For you. If you want to get more comfortable.”
I forced a smile. “No thanks. I think I’m going to get going.”
His gaze narrowed on my face and it was all I could do not to squirm. Even though he didn’t say anything, his expression said it all.
Coward.
“What’s the rush?” he asked softly.
You just knocked my socks off again and that wasn’t supposed to be how it went. You can own my body but you can’t own my heart.
But I couldn’t say that either.
“You should stay. We’ll go into the living room and watch some TV.”
I shook my head, panic ceasing my heartbeat in my chest. “I don’t think so.”
“Something better to do, or just need some space?” he asked as he picked up a pile of socks and shoved them into a new drawer before turning to face me. It was freakish how well he knew me after so short a time. He was getting close to figuring me out. Too close.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice going shrill.
“Making room for you. My place is closer to the zoo than yours, and that way, if there is a night you do decide to stay, it will be easy. You can keep some clothes here and—”
“What? No.” I blinked. “We barely know each other, Mason.”
He closed the drawer before turning to face me and crossing his arms over his chest. “We know that we fit together like hand in glove,” he said, his eyes skimming over me and making me shiver. “We know that I might be the father of your child. And we know that we like each other’s company. It only makes sense that we try to spend some time together so that we can get to know each other even better, doesn’t it? Isn’t that what we agreed to do?”
“No, it doesn’t make sense, and no, that wasn’t what we agreed to do,” I shot back. “None of this makes sense. Look, what we just did? That was a mistake. I should have gone before. Just pretend it never happened, okay? I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking you’re attracted to me. Just like I’m attracted to you. I thought we established that.” He took another step toward me, but I retreated, making my way toward the bedroom door.
“I need to get some air. Some time to think. I’ll call you…or something.”
I sprinted for my sandals and slid them on quickly before heading for the front door. When my hand closed around the knob, I felt a warm, masculine hand on my bicep, but I yanked my shoulder away and hurried out the door without bothering to turn around.
That orgasm?
My own drawer?
Oh, hell no.
It was all too much. He was too much, and I had to get out of there before this thing between us swallowed me whole.
Chapter Sixteen
Mason
I got as far as the hall outside my apartment, watching her almost insane mad dash to the elevators, when the phone in my pocket vibrated.
At first, I thought it might be better to ignore it—to follow Bren down to the lobby and walk her to her car at the very least, but after what just happened, there was no doubting that she needed space and I had no choice but to give it to her. Even though I didn’t work at the zoo like she did, I knew what happened when you tried to cage a wild animal.
The only question was why she needed space to begin with.
After everything that had happened today—the zoo, dinner, and the mind-blowing almost-sex—I thought we were finally making progress. But she felt different…
I heard the distant ding of the elevator doors, then headed back inside my apartment, and my phone buzzed again against my thigh.
Gritting my teeth, I fished the device from my pocket and swiped my thumb across the glass to see that I had missed a call from my mother and she’d left a message.
I thumbed the voice mail button and pressed the smartphone to my ear, listening as the warm, familiar tone of my mother’s voice floated through the speaker.
“Mason, honey, it’s mom. I was calling to ask if you might be able to come over tonight or tomorrow? Your father and I have something important to tell you and we’d like if you could stop by the house so we can do it in person.”
My heart jumped into my throat as the recording ended.
Something important to tell me? The last time I’d gotten a call like this, I’d been on my way to Johns Hopkins, ready to start my freshman year and make a name for myself, only to turn around and find that the world was coming apart. My mother was sick with cancer. Potentially terminal.
The idea of a recurrence hadn’t been far from my mind ever since. It was the reason I’d never moved away and tried to make sure I always made time with both my parents, no matter how busy life got. And if my mom was sick again…
My stomach tightened at the thought.
I’d been on top of the world only ten minutes before, with Bren’s warm, solid palm pressed against my cock, and now my whole life had turned into one giant shit show.
I shot a quick text to my mom and slipped into a pair of shoes before locking my apartment and heading for the parking garage. If my parents needed to tell me something, then I was going to be there to hear it—come hell or high water.
I broke nearly every traffic law on the books trying to get there, but when I finally pulled up in front of the classic brick house where I’d grown up, I felt worse instead of better. It just all felt so familiar—the call, the drive, all of it. And when I went inside, I felt intense dread, like I already knew what would be waiting for me on the other end.
Steeling myself, I rapped on the door once before letting myself in with my spare key. My mother appeared on the other side of the door just as I stepped in, her blue eyes wary as she looked me over.
“You got here awfully fast.”
“If there’s something you couldn’t tell me on the phone, I wanted to know what it was right away.”
She nodded, pursing her lips. “I can understand that. Come in. Your father just made coffee.”
The tension around her eyes and the fact that she didn’t elaborate then or there settled it. My gut clenched and I braced myself for the blow.
Jesus, what if this was it? If she was sick again and Bren was pregnant, it would add a whole new level of grief to the mix. She wanted grandchildren so desperately.
Full of dread, I followed her into the quaint living room and settled onto one of the pink floral couches as my father appeared in the doorway with a black coffee carafe in his hand and a tray of mugs in the other.
“Let me help you with that.” My mother rushed toward him and took the tray, setting it on the coffee table between us before taking a seat opposite me and beside my father.
For a moment, silence fell over us and my father leaned forward, the light shining off his bald spot, as he poured three cups of black coffee and handed one to my mother and one to me.
“So let’s hear it. What going on?” I asked.
My parents looked at one another, then back at me.
Finally my mother cleared her throat. “Your father and I have come to an important decision, and we felt it was important that you knew about it as soon as we were certain.”
“Okay.” I nodded, my skull pounding with a tension headache as I resisted the urge to demand they just say it already.
“We’ve decided that, as we are now entering new stages in our lives, we’d be better off apart from one another,” my father said, patting my mother on her knee as she nodded solemnly.
I examined each of them, not sure I’d heard them right. Apart from one another?
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“We mean we’re going to enter into a trial separation,” my mother said, the finality in her voice ringing through the otherwise silent room.
For the next minute, my brain did a decathlon. On one hand, I felt nothing but relief. Neither of them was dying or prepping to spend months in the hospital dripping poison into their veins to kill something worse than poison. On the other, this was the second thing that had happened in the past hour that made absolutely no sense.
“I don’t understand. You guys have always been inseparable.” I shot a pointed gaze at the spot where my father’s hand rested on my mother’s knee. “Even now, you’re a team.”
My dad pulled his hand away and sighed.
“Just because we’re separating doesn’t mean we don’t love and support one another. And I know it probably feels like we have a perfect marriage because we’re your parents and we don’t fight, but if you really think about it, do you think that’s true?” my mother asked. “Do you think we’re a good match?”
I took a deep breath, thinking her words over carefully. In truth, I knew they had their differences—every couple did. My mother had always been the life of the party, the light in every room she entered. Whenever I called her, she was on her way to some bingo tournament or garden luncheon while my father stayed home, desperate to find out what happened on the next episode of one crime drama or another, and was happiest with his nose buried in a book.
Sure, they had different interests, but was that really reason enough for a divorce?
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