by Kendall Ryan
I took another bite of my donut, then washed it down with some latte. “I’m seriously not digging your tone.”
Mandy shrugged. “You’ll live. Now, come on, question three. How comfortable are you with sexual intimacy?”
“What kind of question is that?” I scoffed.
“A good one,” Mandy said. “Now answer it.”
“Well, I’ve already slept with him, so that sort of speaks for itself.”
“It doesn’t say how comfortable are you with sexuality. It says sexual intimacy,” she pointed out.
“You know what? This quiz is stupid. You know me,” I pleaded. “I’m not an ice princess.”
“I see we’ve struck a nerve. Does this have anything to do with why you’re still lying in bed?”
I took a sip of my coffee, opting not to answer.
Again, though, Mandy outsmarted me. “So you got intimate with him again and it was too much for you? Just say it.”
“It wasn’t that,” I said, and the words poured from me like water breaking through a dam. “I told you. He wanted to give me a drawer at his place and after everything that’s happened, it’s just not something I’m ready for. I mean, I might have to get ready to be a mother. I don’t think I can really handle falling in love on top of everything else. There’s too much happening.”
“So you think you’re falling in love?” Mandy asked.
I set my coffee down, then leaned back against my pillows before huffing out a sigh. “That’s not the point. The point is that I’m overwhelmed and he keeps pushing for more. I could have handled myself better but—”
“But you think you’re falling for him?” Mandy asked again.
I leveled her with a stare. “I don’t think. I know.”
“And that scares you?”
“Scares me? It terrifies me.” I shook my head. “But that’s still not the important part. Mandy, what if I really am pregnant? I’ll love my baby more than life itself. And if I love him, too – think about how much that is for someone like me to lose.”
She closed her hand over mine and offered a gentle smile. “Then I’ll remind you again. You’re not your mother. And even if you were? Would it be so bad?”
I picked up my coffee, lost for words. “I’m done with this quiz.”
Yup. Ice Princess it is. I may not admit it to Mandy but I have to admit it to myself. Now I have to figure out what to do with that knowledge.
“Fine,” Mandy said. “But just…remember what we talked about, okay? The next time you see Mason?”
I nodded. “I will.”
If there was a next time, at least. Because I was pretty sure if poor Devon thought I was a psycho, Mason had at least as much reason. If fact, I was starting to wonder if he’d ever want to talk to me again.
But what was even more worrisome was how awful that thought made me feel…
Broken and a little lost inside.
Chapter Eighteen
Mason
I swallowed hard, shifting the bag in my hands carefully before knocking on the door.
To be fair, I didn’t know if she was home—she hadn’t answered my text, and in light of my new discovery, I thought it was best not to send another. Instead, I opted to go straight to the source, readying to make things as right as I could.
If only Bren would let me.
A moment passed and I knocked again. I waited as I heard the muffled creak of floorboards and then, finally, met Bren’s gaze as she opened the door. Her hair was covered by a fluffy white towel and she wore nothing but a silky robe that clung to her wet skin so that I could see the pert outlines of her nipples.
The look of her alone sent my mind reeling back to yesterday as she writhed in my arms.
Clearing my throat, I forced myself to focus, thrusting the bag in my hand toward her.
“Look, I think I messed up and I get it if you’re not ready to talk, but I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I was moving too fast and with everything else…I can see why it would have freaked you out.”
She was quiet, her gaze locked on my outstretched hand, and she cocked her head.
“What’s this?” she asked, then took the bag from me.
“It’s candy.”
“Did you rob a convenience store?” She rustled the bag, dipped in a hand and pulled out three different kinds of chocolate bars.
“I didn’t know what you liked or if you were allergic to anything, so I just got everything and figured your favorite would be in there.”
She fished through, taking her time, finally pulling out a package of Twizzlers. “You were right.”
“Not a chocolate girl?”
She shook her head. “I mean, I like it, but not if there’s licorice in the room. Uh”—she scrubbed a hand over the back of her neck as she stepped to the side—“did you want to come in?”
“I would love that.” I entered her little foyer, then glanced around. The layout of her apartment was actually similar to my own, even if her little loft favored exposed brick to wide glass windows.
She closed the door behind me and led me to the khaki-colored sofa. Her lips tilted into a strained smile as she handed me the remote. “Turn on whatever you want. I’m going to put on some pants.”
Part of me—the part I needed to keep a tight rein on—wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to stay here until she was ready for me to peel away that robe again. But instead I nodded and reached in my pocket, waiting until she had left the room to look at the envelope in my hands.
This, too, had been part of my plan. Maybe if the uncertainty of the baby was eliminated from the picture, we would be able to move forward like two rational adults. We would know how serious to be—how fast to move.
Maybe it had all been a dumb idea in the first place.
I ran over in my mind what I wanted to say, but then Bren reappeared and the words died in my throat. Even in gray yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt, she made my blood run hot, and I had to tear my gaze away. I couldn’t even help the way my gaze traveled to her abdomen, struggling to see the tiniest hint of a bump.
“You didn’t turn the TV on,” she said.
“No,” I said. “Look, I’ve been thinking and there are some things I want to tell you.”
She crossed her arms over her tiny frame, her face wary again.
Shit.
Exactly the opposite of what I’d been going for here.
“Like what?” she asked.
“All we’ve got is this one life and mistakes are inevitable. We’re going to fall short, we’re going to fall flat on our ass sometimes, but the thing I don’t want to do is be too afraid to say yes to something that makes me happy.” I reached for the envelope again. “I guess what I’m really trying to say is that I know I messed up, but I don’t want us to just walk away from each other like that and I think the real problem here is that we don’t know how seriously to take any of this.”
“So what do you think we should do?” she asked, her tone tentative.
“I think we should know, really know, whether you’re pregnant or not.”
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and then she sighed and sank into a seat opposite me. “I’ve been thinking too. I flipped out when I shouldn’t have. The whole…intimacy thing can get to me sometimes. And I have to admit, I don’t like the uncertainty with regard to the baby question.”
“Then let’s take the uncertainty away. Let’s open the envelope.”
She looked from the envelope to me, then gave me one quick nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We should know.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“But maybe first, let’s make it special or something.”
She walked toward the mantel and snagged a large multicolored candle and a book of matches, then lit the match and made the candle glow. Taking the remote from me, she switched the channel to an indie folk station that hummed gently behind us.
“I
should probably wear a dress in case we have to tell this story to our child one day, but I’m not going to change again,” she said, running a self-conscious hand over her T-shirt.
“You look great just the way you are,” I told her, and in the soft glow of the candle I could see her blush. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s find out.”
I started to swipe my thumb under the flap, but she held out her hand, panic in her eyes.
“Over here, over near the candle. And…can you hold my hand?”
I ripped open the envelope, then moved toward her, closing my eyes as I took her hand. She squeezed so tight, I nearly let out a low whistle, marveling at her strength.
“Come on, already!” she whispered harshly.
With my free hand, I gripped the paper inside the envelope.
“Okay. We’re—”
“Wait! Stop!” Bren practically screeched, and I turned to look at her, my heart thundering.
“Jesus, what? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not ready. I don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “You were right. This whole time. You were right. We need to give this a chance regardless of the baby and without fear holding me back.”
A slight smile tugged on my lips. “But the uncertainty. You said—”
“I know what I said, but first tell me, what are we? Are we together?”
I nodded. “That would be my choice.”
She swallowed hard, not meeting my gaze as she spoke. “Mine too.”
“So we are,” I said simply. “We’re together.” I folded the envelope, tucked it back in my pocket, and then leaned down to cup Bren’s chin. “I’ll follow your lead with this baby and you let me know when you change your mind, okay?”
She nodded, and then I closed my lips over hers, savoring the rush of pure need that flooded my body whenever I touched her.
“You make me happy, Bren. Being with you makes me happy,” I whispered. She rose on tiptoe to kiss me again, softer this time, and she stroked my jaw as she moved, brushing my stubble with her palm.
“You make me happy too,” she whispered, and I kissed her again, weaving my fingers through her hair until she sighed against my mouth, letting my tongue slip between her lips to tease her.
Gently I stroked her tongue, coaxing another little moan from her as I wrapped my other hand around her waist and pulled her closer to me, until her body was flush with my own and she could feel the hard length of my need.
With every passing moment, every deep breath of her sweet, sweet perfume, that need grew stronger, until it threatened to gallop out of control. Even in the space of an instant, I found myself aching to be with her again, throbbing with the need to feel her tight and warm around me.
But first, I needed to show her exactly how happy she made me.
“Where’s the bedroom?” I groaned.
She pulled away for a moment, her eyes hazy, and she pointed to the door on the far side of the room. “Do you have a condom?” she asked.
I nodded. I always kept one in my wallet for emergencies. “I have one. Just in case,” I said, and then I took her hand and led her into the small, cluttered bedroom. Once inside, she wasted no time in stripping off her clothes, ripping her shirt over her head with so much force it sent her hair cascading down her back.
“Slowly,” I said, taking another step toward her and gripping her waist. “Unless you want me to do it for you?”
I trailed my fingers along the smooth outline of her spine, then found the clasp of her bra.
I might have been exposed to the female form every day in my line of work, but that didn’t make my moments with Bren any less special. I knew it took a lot for her to share her body with me.
With a quick flick of the wrist, I released her from the confines of her bra and moved to rub the sensitive swell of her breasts and stroke the pretty tips of her nipples.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, and she grinned at me.
“You’re not being fair. You still have your clothes on.”
“Then let me level the playing field.” Releasing her nipple, I gripped the hem of my shirt and dragged it over my head, letting it fall onto the floor with her clothes. Then, slowly, I reached for my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them in short order before dragging them down to my ankles along with my boxers.
As I stepped from my clothes, I heard her let out a little gasp, and I grinned. “You all right?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how I keep forgetting.”
“What’s that?” I reached for her pants, undoing them like I had my own, trying not to drown in the scent of her and the weight of my own need.
“How…big you are.”
I grinned. “We both know how well you handle it, gorgeous. It’s going to be so good.”
She wet her lips and then hooked her thumbs under the slender strip of lace that held up her panties, ready to drag them off and show me the narrow trail of down that led to the place I longed to see most.
But then, just as she was about to step from her clothes, she started to sink to her knees in front of me.
“No,” I said, my voice more coarse than I’d expected. I couldn’t let her do that—not because I didn’t want her to. I wanted to feel her mouth around me more than almost anything in the world. But today wasn’t about me. It was all for Bren.
“Get on the bed,” I commanded. “And spread your legs for me. I want to look at you.”
She gazed up at me, her eyes wide, and for a moment I thought she might argue, but then she straightened and pushed aside her tangled sheets, making room for herself on the mattress.
When she lay there, her knees spread apart so I could see her sweet pink center, I stared for a long moment, my mouth watering, and shook my head. “Damn, you’re so fucking perfect,” I muttered as a pretty pink blush overtook her cheeks.
“I want you. I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered, parting her knees to lure me even closer.
I fought the desire to give in, to slide forward and take her hard and fast, as I shook my head again. “Not yet.”
Making my way to the edge of the bed, I commanded her to scoot toward me, and then I sank onto my knees until my mouth was level with her body. Slowly, gently, I kissed the insides of her knees, licking my way along the silky skin of her inner thighs until she shivered and writhed at my touch. My cock swelled as goose bumps lit up her flesh, a visual cue that she wanted me as badly as I wanted her right now.
“Mason,” she called, tugging at my wrist. “Please,” she panted, “I need you.”
And that might have been true. But I wasn’t giving in—not yet. I knew about the female anatomy. I knew that less was more, and women required gentler touches than men. And I wanted her nice and wet when I finally sank inside her.
When I was done with my teasing, I stroked her swollen core with my thumb, focusing on the rise and fall of her breasts as she took short, frantic breaths. She was so slick, so welcoming, it was like torture to deny her.
“You’re trying to kill me,” she said.
I blew out a harsh laugh and prayed for patience. “You have no idea. This is as hard on me as it is on you.”
She leaned up to meet my gaze, but the heat behind her eyes told me everything I needed to know. Massaging her thighs again, I leaned down and licked her soft pink folds, dragging my tongue along her slit until I found the tight bundle of nerves I was seeking.
Slowly I circled her center. She dropped back into the mattress, pulsing against my mouth almost involuntarily as I sucked and licked and rolled my tongue in time with every little quake of her body.
“Mason, please,” she cried, arching toward me, driving her fingers into my hair. “Please.”
But it was all too good. Pushing one finger inside her waiting channel, I pistoned inside her, feeling her tighten and quake as she ground into my finger, my mouth, working herself against me to slake her need.
“I’m going to come
,” she moaned. “I want you to feel me. Please, please, I want you to.”
It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Something inside me snapped and, still teasing her with my tongue, I fumbled for the condom on the floor and quickly rolled it over my aching, throbbing shaft.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Hurry, please.”
So I did. Grasping her hips, I rose to my feet and pulled her onto my length, plunging myself hard and deep until I was buried to the hilt. There was no denying what she’d said was true—she was close. Right on the edge. So tight, and so perfect. I could feel her walls fluttering all around me already. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath before I began my steady, rhythmic thrusts. Moving slower than I wanted to, but wanting her to feel every firm inch of me.
“You feel so good,” she moaned, and I stared down at her, knowing that I could never explain in words exactly how good she felt. It was like the end of a thousand days of winter to be inside her again. She set me on fire.
“Touch yourself for me, baby,” I commanded hoarsely, and as her hand dropped between her thighs, I watched her fingers toy with the space my tongue had been only moments ago.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I praised her. “Now tell me how good it feels.”
“It feels amazing. It feels like…” She shook her head, but I knew what she meant. There were no words. She let out a low moan.
Her walls tightened around me, and though I wanted to spend all night inside her, the call of her body was simply too strong. Watching her breasts bounce as I moved, her hand working her sensitive bud, I was hovering closer and closer to the edge. As my balls drew up, I knew there was no choice left.
Gripping her hips harder, I moved inside her with everything I had, thrusting in and out with quick, needy bursts. She gasped, gripping the sheet beneath her as she moaned my name.
“Mason, Mason, I’m going to come,” she said.
“Then come for me, baby,” I growled.
She wasted no time. Her walls squeezed me so tight I saw stars and I held her hips tighter, afraid that I would be swept away by the sheer power of her orgasm. But before I could focus on her for too long, I broke apart myself. Euphoria spread through my body, making me lose all sense of self.
