“Fuck.” He hissed out a breath as I thrust deeper.
“Too much?” I went as still as I could.
“Nope.” He yanked me forward into a fierce kiss. He was tight and hot and I couldn’t resist rocking my hips as we kissed, urging him to let me in with gentle nudges that gradually built up to full-fledged thrusts until we were fucking in earnest, and I forgot what the hell my reservation had been about this position. It was perfection—his strong arms and legs holding me close, his mouth on mine, little gasps and moans escaping even as we kissed, me able to see every flicker of emotion on his face.
“Nash.” His breath came in pants against my neck. “So good.”
“Yeah.” It took a little calculation and adjustment, getting my angle right from this position, but I knew I’d succeeded when he shivered and moaned. “That’s it. Just like that.”
“That’s my line.” He laughed. His laughter washed over me, as welcome as the ocean on a ninety degree day. Getting off with him was fun—especially the intensity of riding the edge of a climax, pushing him over while trying not to take my own tumble over that cliff too soon. But lately I’d begun to worry about the sea of emotions churning beneath us. It was getting bigger, harder to control. Felt like someday I’d take that fall and never recover, end up swamped by feelings I had no idea what to do with.
“So beautiful.” I brushed the hair off his forehead, trying to memorize the glassy haze of his eyes, his kiss-swollen mouth, the tension in his neck and jaw.
“Now you’re going to turn me into the self-conscious one.” He pulled me down for another deep kiss.
“You’re perfect,” I whispered as I came up for air, right before I claimed his mouth again. I meant it—there wasn’t a thing I’d change about Mason Hanks, except for the part where he could never be for me, where I could never be everything he needed, where this thing between us was doomed to an early death, no matter how many cliffs of emotion I dived off. But right then, as our bodies surged together, I was all in, chest thumping with unfamiliar feelings, heart whispering, “Maybe…maybe…”
He whimpered, clutching me tighter, bucking against me. Warmth hit my belly. Holy fuck. “Did you just…”
“Yes. Oh, God, yes.” Mason shuddered in my embrace, and in that instant, he was everything I’d ever wanted from the world—sweet and strong, fearless and trusting, giving and needing. My thrusts became more erratic, muscles tensing almost involuntarily, my attention still riveted on Mason’s face.
“Come on, Nash. Come in me.”
I opened my mouth to call him on being bossy again, but the quip died in a long groan as fire licked up my spine and my brain melted. I was powerless to do anything other than what this man requested, powerless to do anything other than fall off the cliff, almost joyously. Tumbling over the edge had never felt so good. Even knowing how deep and treacherous the water was, I couldn’t do more than hold him tighter.
“Oh, wow.” Mason brushed a kiss on my jaw. “Did that really just happen?”
“Think so.” I eased out of him, hating his wince. I used one of our towels to wipe our stomachs off. “Did I go too hard?”
“Not more than I begged for.” Laughing, he stretched and yawned. “I’m going to feel you all shift, though. I’ll love it even if I am going to be tired as hell.”
“You’ve got time for a little nap.” Sex always left him sleepy, whereas it jazzed me up, made my brain churn.
“Wake me up with time to get a change of clothes at my place?”
“Will do.” I let him drape himself around me, happy to be his pillow. I couldn’t deny the realities of who he was, who I was. Who I had to be. But right then, I couldn’t do anything other than watch him sleep and pretend for a few precious moments that he was mine.
Eighteen
Mason
“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.” I flopped on the bed, wet head landing on Nash’s bare stomach, but he didn’t flinch, probably a testament to how wrung out he was after another epic late-night sex fest. He had barely moved when I’d headed to his shower after he was done fucking me against his big headboard—still no bed-breaking, but we’d certainly rattled the old house’s walls.
“It’s just not prudent.” Nash reached down and ran his hand through my hair. We’d started this discussion over the pasta carbonara I’d made on his big stove. Since our fishing trip, we’d been fooling around more at Nash’s place—he had the bigger kitchen, the better shower, and the secluded backyard for sneaking in and out. And sneaking was exactly what we were arguing over.
“We both need to go to Portland. It’s over a five-hour drive. Why on earth should we take two cars?”
Earlier, Nash had been checking out his work calendar to try to find a date when we could slip away for another fishing trip. I’d been looking over his shoulder and noticed he was going to Portland for his mother’s birthday the same week that I’d promised Brock I’d come up and speak to the investment group. Making the trip together made sense—we’d get to spend time together, and we’d save time and energy by carpooling.
“People will notice.” Nash didn’t slow his scalp massage, and I had to work to not stretch like a cat and drop the topic in favor of getting more caresses.
“Look. I’ll leave my car in the garage, and we can leave early in the morning, like I know you’d prefer anyway. And it’s not like we have to stay together in Portland. I’ll just crash at Brock’s—”
Nash growled and his hand tightened in my hair. “No need for that. I usually get a room when I visit.”
I liked him jealous of Brock, but my stomach churned with my own jealousy as I thought of reasons why he wouldn’t stay with his mom. “You usually go…fishing when you’re in the city?”
Nash snorted. “Not going to lie. I’ve tried it a time or two, but it never works out. Guess I’m too old and craggy for that kind of fun.”
“You are not.” I shoved at his thigh before nosing at his cock which was showing renewed interest in my attention. “And we should go out while we’re there. I’ll show you some of my favorite places.” I tried to sound upbeat. I didn’t want to think about a future where Nash and I were little more than a memory, and he could go back to quarterly cruising or whatever it was that he’d been used to.
“I can’t…” Nash’s body moved with a shrug. “Can’t take you to the birthday party. Too many questions.”
I released my breath in little huffs, trying not to give in to the heavy sigh that wanted to escape. I knew Nash wasn’t coming out for me, but it still stung. “That’s fine. I’m sure Brock will keep me busy. After all, it’s mainly a business trip.”
“Yeah.” Nash didn’t sound particularly sure, but his cock was plumping up, and I could spy a partial victory at least.
“So will you at least think about it?” I let my breath brush over his cock.
“We can ride together,” he allowed, hand on my head dragging me closer to his cock. “If that makes you happy.”
“It does.” I rewarded him with a lick along the thick vein wrapping around his shaft.
“And you’re staying with me.” His voice was a possessive growl that did a lot to cut past my hurt over his reluctance.
“Bet we can find uses for a hotel room.” I took another deliberate lick. I wasn’t ever going to get tired of Nash’s flavor, both the idea and the reality of doing this for him.
“You the whole night?” Nash propped himself up on his elbows so he could smile down at me. “I can use that.”
“Me, too,” I said around the lump in my throat. We hadn’t ever done more than doze together, stolen naps before alarms went off, always needing to sneak out before we were discovered by nosy neighbors ready to comment on an early morning stroll. The idea of sleeping next to Nash all night long turned me on almost as much as the idea of wild, hotel-room sex, maybe even more.
I lavished attention on Nash’s cock, trying to tell him what I couldn’t put into words—how much doing this together
meant to me, how much I wasn’t ready for this thing between us to end. I’d been so brash weeks ago, telling him to think of this as a summer thing, but the longer it went on, the less I wanted to think about expiration dates. We’d been in such a good place since the fishing trip. I wasn’t ready to derail that, not yet. Just give me a little more time. I sucked him down, letting his hand on my head guide me to his favorite rhythm. This was where I belonged, this was where everything made sense. And I wasn’t giving that up, not yet.
And when Nash finally erupted down my throat, showering me with whispered praise and husky moans, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere, not until forced. This was too good, too special to waste on regrets and might-have-beens. Fuck expiration dates—I was in this as long as he’d have me, even if his closet threatened to stifle us both before it was through.
Nash
“Got coffee?” It was still dark out when Mason swung himself and a duffel bag into my sedan. I usually relied on either the Jeep or my old truck, but I liked the car for longer trips.
“Yup.” I gestured to the thermos and blanket waiting on the floor for him. Ignoring the coffee for the moment, he pulled the blanket around himself and snuggled up against the door. I found myself wishing for an old-fashioned bench seat so that I could be his pillow. I settled for reaching over to pat his leg before turning onto 101 to take us out of town.
The car’s headlights bounced off the guard rails, and I got a little thrill looking forward to watching the sun come up over the bay in an hour or so. I always loved early morning starts because they reminded me of fishing trips with Granddad and secret adventures with Easton. We only passed a handful of other cars on our way out of town. We’d be on the two lane coastal highway past the bigger town of Coos Bay, all the way to Reedsport, where we’d catch highway 38 and take that to I-5. Way I figured it, Mason would probably sleep most of the way to I-5, maybe even to Eugene.
The plan, such as it was, involved the five a.m. start at my insistence, a stop in Eugene for breakfast, then a lunchtime arrival in Portland. And, as per the plan, Mason’s car was tucked into his garage. No one knew we were traveling together, and that was how I liked it.
And if I felt guilt over that, if my chest got heavy every time I thought about the web of half-truths we were weaving, I tried to push it aside and focus on the idea of a night all alone with Mason, no prying eyes to worry about. The hotel room was a good distraction from the weight of knowing I was disappointing Mason, at least a little. He never spoke of it, but his long sighs and downturned mouth and pinched eyes let me know that the strain of being with me was starting to get to him.
If I were a kind man, I would’ve put a stop to our fun and games a long time ago. But I wasn’t kind. I was selfishly enjoying secret fishing mornings and late-night cooking and more sex than I’d thought myself capable of. And, although I’d always considered myself a strong person, turns out I just wasn’t strong enough to let Mason go, not yet at least. Eventually, he’d move on, tired of putting up with me, just like Steve had, but I wasn’t going to be the one to shove Mason out the door.
South of Reedsport, Mason stretched and reached for the coffee. We rounded a corner between rocky cliffs that gave way to the sort of ocean view that even after a lifetime spent on the coast never grew old—cloudless blue skies, gleaming blue-green ocean lapping against rocky shores. But that view wasn’t near as pretty as Mason gulping his coffee, full lips and long throat working, and I had to work to keep my eyes on the highway.
“You want to switch drivers after we get food in Eugene? I’ve got the perfect place for breakfast.”
“You can choose the food. I’m not picky.” I smiled indulgently at him. “But I’m good to drive.”
“You don’t give up control easily, do you?” Mason laughed.
I do to you. All the time. But of course, I wasn’t admitting that to him, wasn’t about to tell him how much I liked him leading in the kitchen or demanding that we take another bath together or coaxing me into letting him give me a massage. “Nope,” I said instead. “And you like me in control.”
“I do.” Mason winked at me. “But I’m just saying if you ever want to change things up…”
I knew exactly what he was getting at. “Maybe,” I allowed, more than half hoping that would satisfy him enough to change the subject.
“You and Steve ever go away like this?” he asked.
Okay, that wasn’t really the change in topic I wanted. “We fished some. Camped a few times. Tried to not make a habit out of any of it.” I glanced over at Mason as I merged onto Highway 38. His expression was guarded, eyes distant, and it was hard to say whether he was pleased by this news or not. “Too risky.”
“But he wanted to?” Mason pressed.
“Yeah.” I didn’t like the memory of those conversations, and my voice was harder than it needed to be. “He was always on me to go away in the winter, get a little sun, but I couldn’t leave the job. Plus, the more time we spent together, the more people were going to guess. My mother did. Not sure who else suspected.” And that shouldn’t have rankled me near as much as it did, the not knowing.
“Your mom knows?” Mason’s voice was higher than usual, and even without looking, I could bet that his eyes were bugging out. “I didn’t think anyone knew.”
“I do have friends,” I said, a mite too testily. “Troy learned because we were stupid kids together. And he trusted Curtis, so I did, too. He hasn’t figured out about you, though.”
“Oh, of course not.” Mason waved my reply away, voice resigned. I had a brief pang in my gut, almost a longing. It would be nice to get Curtis and Mason in the same room, show off Mason’s cooking, let Curtis rib us both. But I’d long ago learned to turn off those sorts of wishes. “But your mom guessed about you and Steve? And she was okay?”
“Okay is quite a stretch.” God, I didn’t want to be having this conversation. I looked out at the trees on both sides of us as the road twisted, hills alive with the colors of summer—bright greens and yellows, patchy places where there had been logging or forest fires in years past. “It…uh…only came up after Dad’s death. When she wanted to move to Portland to be near Trisha and her sisters. She said it wasn’t as if I was likely to give her grandkids.” I forced myself to shrug as if that conversation hadn’t damn near killed me. “Which she was right about. But we don’t really talk about it, other than her telling me to keep my head down.”
“She’s wrong,” Mason said firmly. “She was wrong to move away from you—”
“No, she wasn’t.” The trees gave way to a wide-open field, an old brown barn set back far from the road, and lazy cows and horses watching us pass. I was half tempted to hijack one of the horses to avoid Mason’s questions. “She never cared as much for Rainbow Cove—she was a Portland girl Dad convinced to come back with him. She missed the big city, missed her family and sisters. And she wasn’t going to let Trisha’s kids grow up without her. It made sense.” It didn’t mean I didn’t miss her like crazy, but I wasn’t holding on to much resentment there.
“Well, she’s still wrong to tell you to stay closeted or whatever she said.” Mason leaned back in the seat, stare intense, like he was personally affronted by my mother.
“We’ve been through this.” I let out a frustrated noise as we finally hit I-5, where we could go fast enough to maybe leave this talk behind us. “I’m not ready to be a spectacle. To have people treat me different.”
“Oh, Nash. It’s a dying town with aging hippies and a few rednecks. No one cares all that much about our personal business.”
“Not going to be dying much longer if that friend of yours has his way.” I carefully skirted his main point about no one caring and the way that Mason had lumped us together—our personal business, like there was an us that would deal with this together, an us that my actions affected. I really wasn’t ready to confront that us yet. Sure, it existed in the quiet hours of the night when I watched him doze on my favorite pillow or when my hear
t swelled watching him laugh and flip pancakes. But that didn’t make me ready for a public us, not yet.
“Speaking of friends, the breakfast place I want to hit is owned by a friend from culinary school. Not sure if she’ll actually be there, but if it’s too weird for you…”
“It’s not.” There was a bit of a challenge to his voice, but that wasn’t why I gave in. Thinking about disappointing him, depriving him of a chance to say hi to a friend, made my back sweat. I hated letting him down.
Mason was quieter the rest of the way to Eugene, turning up my radio until it was time to give me directions to a little cafe in a strip mall near the college campus. It had a giant green awning and, even at eight, the outdoor tables were full. After we parked we headed toward the entrance, and I noticed a couple customers were taking pictures of their food with their phones.
“They do that at your place, too?” I asked Mason, desperate to lighten the tension between us.
“Oh, yeah. But they do it here because Cat’s stuff really is that good. You’ll see.”
We had to wait for a table, something that almost never happened in Rainbow Cove, and I felt very…aware, standing there next to Mason. It seemed like people might be able to guess what we were to each other just by watching how Mason’s eyes crinkled when I made a joke about him needing a fancy coffee and how he stood a little closer than strictly needed. Which I loved, damn it all to hell.
Right as a teal-haired server led us to a recently cleared table for two, a tall woman with an infant strapped to her front came rushing toward us. “Mason Hanks. Text a girl, why don’t you?” She had a big hug for Mason and a questioning smile for me.
“This is Nash. Nash, this is Cat.” Mason said with a careless gesture, not elaborating on who exactly I was. I supposed I appreciated his discretion, but my chest tightened in a strange way as I looked over at him. And I had to wonder how it might feel if he’d claimed me as someone important, as someone who was a solid part of his world.
Trust with a Chaser (Rainbow Cove Book 1) Page 15
