“I like tipsy you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Your honesty was quite the turn-on.”
She groaned, squirming to get away, but he tugged her back.
“My head’s fuzzy on your exact phrasing, but at one point, I’m pretty sure you admitted you’d like to lick me.”
Groaning even louder, she covered her flaming face with her hands. “Stop.”
“I would, but you pretty much seared that image into my brain. Then there were your asparagus tricks...”
“Stop...”
“Nah...” Lifting her up to him, he kissed her real slow, doing plenty of searing with his lips. When she groaned, he pulled her closer, easing his big, rough hand under her sweater. Being with him like this felt so natural, so right, so— What was she thinking?
“Mason, no—” She pushed him away, then tidied her hair. “We can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
“Why?”
Images of her mother and beady-eyed Sophie Reynolds flashed before her, as well as her radiant sister on the long-ago day she and Mason married. “It just is. I can’t—won’t—be the kind of woman who—”
“Actually lives her own life?”
That very question was what had led her to drink. After Mason signed the forms releasing him from his parental duties, he’d essentially stepped one foot out the door of their shared life. The thought of no longer playing house with him, exchanging brief touches with him or even lingering looks had sent her running straight for liquid courage.
Oh—she’d be leading her own life, all right—her very-much-alone life!
“Ha-ha.” She slid off the bed, straightening her sweater in the process. “You’re so not funny.”
“Just keepin’ it real, Hat Trick.” After a yawn and stretch, he asked, “Hungry?”
“Not really.” Yes. When wasn’t she? But thinking of her latest abandoned diet would hardly stop her downward emotional spiral.
“Mind at least sitting with me while I grab a burger?”
“Sure. Help me find my shoes and we’ll head downstairs.”
What a difference a few hours made. The place was packed.
The only seats to be had were a couple stools at the bar.
While Mason called his dad to check on the twins, Hattie called her own establishment. Clementine had long since gone home, but Craig and Trevor reassured her all was well and that they’d also been slammed with folks seeking an excuse to party through the inclement weather.
“Wanna beer?” Mason asked.
“Yes, please.”
After agreeing to share onion rings, Hattie raised her longneck brew. “How about a toast?”
“To what?”
“There are good ships and wood ships. Ships that sail the sea. But the best ships are friendships. May they always be.”
Mason said, “I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked bottles.
Desperate to avoid the elephant in the room—his imminent departure—Hattie said, “Since you’ve been in town, we’ve talked about babies and wills and more death than I care to remember, but you’ve said nothing about what’s really going on with you. Have a good group of guys you hang out with? A girlfriend?”
He reddened. “My guys consist mostly of my SEAL team. My best bud, Calder, just got married and had his second kid.” After a long swig of beer, he turned introspective, swirling his bottle against the smooth wood bar. “For the longest time, I was pissed at him for turning to the Dark Side. Your sister really did a number on my head.” He drew a deep breath. “As for the second part of your question—the longest relationship I’ve had recently was a gallon of milk I forgot to toss before leaving for Afghanistan. Can you believe she stayed with me for six whole months?”
“Not sure whether the similarity of our love lives should make me laugh or cry—although I did have a guy stick around for that long. Constantine...” She finished her beer. “Great in bed. Hopeless at keeping a job.” Mortified by what she’d just admitted, she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. “Could I sound like any more of a money-grubbing hussy?”
“Don’t sweat it.” He finished his drink and signaled the bartender for two more. “I happen to very much like hussies.”
Before she could even wonder if she should take his statement at face value, he winked. “I get it. You’re over thirty and entitled to a satisfactory roll in the sack—hell, we all are. As for the cash? Seems to me a man’s work ethic speaks volumes about his character.”
“True...” Mason’s had always been top-notch. “Melissa used to bitch a blue streak about you working too much. I lost count of the number of times I reminded her you were working for her—your future kids.”
“See? I love that you get that—you’ve always gotten that. You’re good people, Hat Trick. Wise beyond your years.”
“I try.” Fresh drinks arrived.
The dining room furniture had been compressed, allowing for a makeshift dance floor. The roaring fire, combined with gyrating bodies, upped the room’s heat—both figuratively and literally. Lights had been dimmed to almost nonexistent and she found herself embracing the dark.
It made her bold.
Made her forget herself and her worries and everything but this moment with the only man she’d ever wanted.
Hattie lowered the zipper on her sweater, then fanned herself with a napkin. “You’d never know it’s probably ten degrees outside.”
He laughed, then held out his hand. “I love this song. Let’s dance.”
Rod Stewart’s “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” morphed into a slow and sexy Def Leppard number that had Hattie pressed against Mason in an anything-but-friendly manner. Swaying to the music, they abandoned themselves to the fire’s hedonistic glow, and he settled his hands low on her hips. Was it the fire’s heat or his touch that had her skin flush and thoughts dizzy?
Everyone knew blizzard parties were like Vegas. What happened at the party stayed at the party.
Mason eased his hands under her sweater and up her bare back as she pressed her hands to his chest, fisting his shirt when their gazes met in a way they never had before. How many times had she stared into Mason’s eyes? She liked to think she knew him inside and out—that she’d always known him, but never like this.
The song ended and another came on. Still slow, but with Justin Timberlake’s painfully sexy vibe. She’d always associated his music with the pretty people—the glamorous party set who’d hung with her sister—but tonight, with a blizzard raging outside and her hair swinging loose and wild, with Mason’s wicked hands sliding up her sides, beneath her bra, skimming her breasts’ side-swell, she felt pretty. Wanton and wicked. All grown up and, for once in her life, refusing to back away from what she wanted.
He angled his head as if planning to kiss her.
Panic seized her, stopping her heart, then racing it to a frightening degree. What was happening? This was Mason. Her sister’s boyfriend—her husband. Her ex-husband.
Not asking permission, Mason’s hands were out from beneath her sweater to cup her cheeks, pulling her close for a kiss she’d waited a lifetime for. His lips were firm, yet supple, drawing her in, only to tease her by backing away.
She had never been more out of breath—out of control. She couldn’t have stopped kissing him if the room caught on fire.
He played his teasing game until the end of the song, but then things got serious when he grasped her hand and led her away from the crowd to the stairs.
There, he took things to a whole new level, lowering her to sit on the nearest step, then arching her back, kissing her, haunting her with the sweep of his tongue—for he had to know regardless of where the night led, she’d never forget his kiss. His faint taste of beer and raw masculinity.
He hovered over her, pressing his swollen need against
her. “You okay with taking this upstairs?”
She somehow found the strength—the courage—to nod.
Chapter Eleven
Safely hidden behind their closed door, their urges broke free. Hattie didn’t even try pretending being with Mason in every way a woman could wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
She ripped at his shirt just as he did away with her sweater. Like a blind woman seeing the sun for the first time, she reveled in gazing at his every muscular nuance and groove. Where her body was soft, his was hard. Honed from she couldn’t even imagine how many hours of working out.
Cloaked by darkness, she forgot to care about what he thought of her body in favor of savoring his every touch.
He backed her against the nearest wall, but it turned out to be the door leading into the bathroom. It didn’t matter, as he slowed things down while impossibly racing her pulse all the more.
“You’re beautiful....” His words were a ragged whisper.
“No...”
“Shh...” He was back to exploring, kissing her abdomen and still lower until he was between her legs and she buried her fingers in his hair, abandoning herself to a swift climax that built into another. His touch transported her to a place where anything was possible, where dreams really did come true.
By the time he’d left her to grab a condom from his wallet, she thought she’d been ready for him, but nothing could’ve been further from the truth.
Eyes closed, the sheer beauty of his motion, of the two of them finally uniting as one, knotted her throat to the point she was no longer able to hold tears at bay.
“Hey...want me to stop?” He paused, which prompted her to press her fingers into his back, urging him to continue—to never stop.
“No. Please...” Her mind was too addled for speech.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please, Mason...don’t stop.”
He braced his hands against the wall, giving her an opportunity to dance her fingertips along his impressive biceps.
“What else can I do? You’re crying.”
“Lately, I’m always crying. It’s not a big deal.”
“Hattie...”
She kissed him, hoping to convey the depth of her riotous emotions through her actions. “Th-this is a big deal for me—huge. Trust me. I want this—us—more than you’ll ever know.”
“Well, all right, then...” Mason struggled for thought, let alone words. He had never seen a more beautiful sight than Hattie standing before him, naked, shyly smiling, unflinchingly meeting his gaze. “Wanna take this to the shower?”
“Sounds a little wild,” she said with a giggle. “I like wild. D-do you?”
“Hell, yeah.... As long as you’re sure.”
She turned on the water. “You think too much. You’ve also apparently been away from Conifer too long. How could you forget the rule about blizzard parties?”
“I didn’t. Trust me, I’m all for getting buck-ass wild tonight, then forgetting come morning. But, Hattie, I’m not willing to do it at your expense. You were crying.” He wanted to hold her gaze, but lacked the strength when she’d presented herself like a womanly buffet. He drew her to him, so damned relieved he hadn’t botched things up.
“In case it escaped your notice, lately I’m always crying. But this time—” she drew back to gift him with the sweetest kiss “—my tears were happy. More than anything I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you. If my parents knew, they’d permanently disown me, but for now—tonight—no one ever has to know besides me and you.”
“And you’re okay with that?” He searched her dear face, those chocolate eyes.
She nodded.
“Sweet. Let’s get busy.” To once and for all dispel any concerns about her weight, he backed her against the wall, lifting her, urging her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “Wanna go for a ride?”
* * *
WHEN HATTIE WOKE to use the bathroom, then settled into an armchair, though it was still dark, she could tell the storm had passed and enough moonlight reflected off the snow to afford her a mesmerizing view. Sleeping Mason was a sight to behold. The wall heater worked a little too well, meaning that after making love a third time, he’d fallen asleep on his back. The sheet only covered his midsection and left leg, leaving the rest of his godlike physique on display.
If she weren’t sore in places, she wouldn’t believe their shared intimacies had even happened.
But they had.
As a realist, she knew being with Mason changed nothing. He’d still leave bright and early Sunday morning and she’d still raise her nieces on her own. She’d never been a fairy-tale girl; rather, she lived more in the realm of Cinderella before the ball. But now that she’d had her one, sparkling night, no matter what other tragedies fell her way, she’d finally had her chance to be a princess. And it’d truly been a magical affair.
Mason stirred.
On her feet, she rummaged through her purse for the bottle of water she’d stashed earlier that day. She took three long sips.
Upon her return to the bed, Mason mumbled, then kicked the sheet from his right leg. Whatever he dreamed of seemed fitful.
Should she wake him? She recalled once reading never to wake a sleepwalker, but she’d never heard any rules on standard dreamers.
When his moaning resembled pain, she touched his shoulder. “Mason? You all right?”
He thrashed his head. “No. No.”
“Mason? Wake up.” She nudged him again, only this time slightly harder.
With a start, his eyes opened, his gaze unfocused, and for a moment he seemed lost. “Melissa?”
Hattie froze. No way had he said what she thought she’d heard. Moments earlier her happiness had been hard to contain, but now she shrank inside herself, only just realizing the depth of her mistake. She knew he wasn’t still hung up on her sister, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d shared a significant past. So significant that Melissa still popped up in his dreams—or nightmares...
Hattie had no business being with him. Nothing good could come from anything they shared.
Eyes again closed, he fitfully kicked his legs. “Baby? Is that you?”
Though Mason drifted back into peaceful slumber, for Hattie, sleep never came.
At 5:00 a.m., she tired of trying. Instead, she dressed in the previous day’s clothes, ran her brush through her tangled hair, then wrote a hasty note for Mason, telling him that when he woke, she’d be in the lobby.
For now, she needed coffee, pastry and the space to process her thoughts—however dark they may be.
* * *
MASON WAS SORRY Hattie hadn’t been in bed when he woke. After the wild night they’d shared, he wouldn’t have minded kissing her good-morning.
How crazy was it that after all these years of being friends, they’d discovered something more. On the flip side, how depressing was it that he was soon leaving. Somehow, he had to make her understand that despite that fact, their night hadn’t been purely about sex. She’d always meant the world to him and still did. He wasn’t quite sure how she fit into that world, but he’d worry about that another day.
For now, he took a quick shower, toweled off, then tugged on clothes still in a rumpled heap from where they’d been tossed the night before.
Damn, Hattie had been a closet hottie. No more calling her Hat Trick—more like hellion.
Downstairs, he found the sun-flooded dining room restored to its former sedate pace. Two business-types sat at tables, reading newspapers and drinking coffee. Then there was Hattie, seated cross-legged on the sofa in front of the fire, reading something on her Kindle. She’d crammed her long hair into a messy ponytail, and even from a distance, he could tell she wasn’t her usual self.
“H
ey...” He kissed the crown of her head before sitting next to her. “Quite a night, huh?”
Her smile didn’t reach her bloodshot eyes.
After placing his hand possessively on her thigh, he asked, “Everything all right?”
She nodded. “I’m glad you’re here. We should head for the airport. Our flight leaves in just over an hour.”
“Wish you’d told me sooner. Might’ve been nice to share breakfast.”
She shrugged.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Mind telling me what I’m missing? In light of, you know...last night. Your cold shoulder’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Good. Then we’re even.” Before he had the chance to ask what that meant, she was on the phone with the cabdriver. Upon hanging up, she stood. “We’re in luck. He’s only a few minutes away.”
“Swell. That’ll hopefully give you just enough time to explain what the hell’s wrong with you? Is this about me leaving?”
She shook her head. “Can we please just get back to Conifer? Last night was a mistake. We both know it.”
“Are you kidding me?” After a quick check to make sure the other guests were ignoring him, he took Hattie’s hand, easing her fingers between his. “Last night was not only hot, but opened my eyes to a whole new part of you. You’re like Hattie, but better. I have to get back to the base, but I was thinking, for the holidays, how about you and the girls fly out for a visit? Wouldn’t that be fun?”
There she went again with her waterworks, but not before jerking her hand free. “You have no idea, do you?”
From outside came a honk.
“No idea about what?” Mason asked. He’d grown seriously tired of this game.
“Come on. That’s our ride.”
“What about the bill?”
“Already paid.”
She was midway to the door when he caught her by her upper arm, spinning her to face him. Under his breath, he said, “Damn it, Hattie, tell me what’s wrong or we’ll stand here all day.”
“You called out for Melissa, okay?” She took a tissue from her purse, blotting her eyes. “After spending the whole night making love with me, turns out your subconscious prefers my sister.”
The SEAL's Christmas Twins Page 11
