“Oh, he would have had I let him, but I told him if he ruins my chance at grandchildren, he’ll sleep in the barn for a month. And he knows I mean it.”
Grandchildren? Chelle glanced at Mason, who thankfully didn’t look as if he could hear her mother. Mason doesn’t think we’ll make it two weeks.
Her mother added, “I know you’re in love, but don’t let any man steamroll you. When all is said and done, marriage is about respect and compromise, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a stand now and then for what’s important. Remember that, Chelle. When love is right, it makes you stronger, not weaker.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And use birth control. I want grandbabies, but preferably not before you walk down the aisle.”
And that’s how you know it’s time to hang up. “Bye, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Chelle placed the phone on the arm of the couch beside her and folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t know Mason well enough to be able to anticipate how he would respond to her doing the exact opposite of what he wanted. Would he yell? Would he turn cold? Had her small act of defiance brought an early end to their time together? She prepared herself for a myriad of responses.
Amused, Mason watched Chelle brace herself for his reaction. From the proud tilt of her chin to the way her folded arms lifted, parting the front of his shirt and revealing more of her chest than she most likely meant to, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever been with, and the most guileless.
No, he didn’t want to go to Fort Mavis to meet her family, but when she looked at him that way, there wasn’t a request she could make that he would deny. He was wise enough not to let her know that. He forced himself to sound harsh. He took her upper arms in his hands. “You knew I didn’t want to go.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Yes.”
God, it was hard to remember why he was even pretending to be bothered. All he wanted to do was kiss those sweet lips and carry her back to bed. “Yet you agreed that we’d attend something two weeks from now.”
The air between them sizzled, and their breathing became labored. It was no use pretending they both weren’t turned on by the exchange. “I did,” she said, a small smile curling her lips.
“Do you know what that means?” he asked, his mouth hovering over hers.
She shook her head, her eyes riveted to his.
He kissed her gently, then lifted her onto his lap, facing him. He slid a hand between her parted thighs and stroked her already wet slit. Her lips parted with a sigh of pleasure he took advantage of. He dug one hand into her hair and held her head while he plundered her mouth so fully it left both of them shaken.
She writhed on his lap, making the pleased sounds he was quickly becoming addicted to. With other women, the marathon of sex they’d had would have taken the edge off his desire for her. He’d never had trouble walking away from a woman, but the more he tasted Chelle, the more he wanted her.
He raised his head and said, “There is no backing out now. You’re mine for the next two weeks. I’m going to enjoy every inch of you, every night.”
“Every night?” Chelle asked with a playful smile. Her hands slid down his stomach and undid his trousers. “Are you sure you have the stamina to fulfill a promise like that?”
The feel of her hands closing around his freed cock was so intensely pleasurable he closed his eyes briefly. He knew two weeks would never be enough with a woman like Chelle, but he didn’t want to consider what that might mean. He forced himself to stay in the moment, to fully enjoy her without addressing the questions building within him.
Chelle was a natural pleaser, even when it came to sex. In the short time they’d been together, she’d learned exactly how to stroke him, cup him, bring him to a place where he forgot everything but her.
He was greedy for her touch. Desperate for her taste. He wanted to know her, own her, be her obsession as much as she was becoming his.
She slid down onto her knees before him and took him deeply into her eager, hot mouth. Her tongue circled and teased, then stroked the side of him. He wrapped her long hair around one of his hands, holding it out of her face, then leaned back and gave himself over to the fire she set ablaze in him.
She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper each time. She kept her lips in a wet, tight circle around his shaft. She circled her fingers just below her lips, moving them up and down along with her mouth, deepening his pleasure. Her other hand cupped his balls, working them and the base behind them with a gentle rhythm that had him tightening and near release sooner than he wanted to be.
Their eyes met, and his hand fisted in her hair. He regretted the action as soon as he saw her expression turn doubtful. She raised her head and asked, “Am I doing this right?”
“Fuck yes. Don’t stop,” he ordered and guided her mouth back to his cock.
Once again, she worked her magic with her tongue and hands, erasing all thought with her gentle touch. He warned her when he was about to climax, and without missing a beat, her hands took over where her mouth had been. He came on her chest and slumped, momentarily spent.
She stood and returned a moment later with a warm cloth. There was something humbling about the way she washed him. He wasn’t used to women taking care of him. She left his side again, then returned with a sheet and pulled it over both of them as she snuggled up to him.
The entire encounter confused him. He wasn’t the type to climax before a woman. In fact, giving a woman multiple orgasms was something he prided himself on. “Don’t worry,” he promised, “we’re nowhere near done.”
Still in his shirt, she cuddled closer and draped an arm across his chest. “I’ll hold you to that tonight. For now, this feels so good.”
He slid one arm around her and breathed in the scent of her. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed with contentment. He’d held many women in his life, but always as a lead-in to sex or in a brief embrace afterward. Until Chelle, he would have said having a woman linger after sex made him feel trapped.
The warm feeling that was spreading through him was as unexpected as it was unsettling. The hand he ran through her hair was not a calculated technique designed to turn her on. He enjoyed the feel of her, every part of her. His caress was merely an extension of that realization.
“Tell me something,” he commanded in a low voice.
Without lifting her head, she asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. As she began to describe the family ranch she’d grown up on, he savored the sound of her voice washing over him. No, two weeks would never be enough, but what would be?
Listening to Chelle filled Mason with a sense of peace he wasn’t accustomed to. In that calm place, he admitted to himself the reason he was still pretending to be engaged to Chelle. For the first time in his life, he was enjoying something he’d always considered ludicrous—monogamy.
He knew he wasn’t the man for Chelle. Even Charles had said as much. She was innocence and sunshine. He was cold and jaded. Staying with her was setting them both on a course to that ugly day when she would realize she needed more than he could ever give her.
She tapped a finger on his chest lightly. “Are you even listening to me?”
He caught her hand in his and kissed it briefly. “Would you forgive me if I told you I was thinking about how beautiful you are?”
She shook her head against his shoulder. “No, because we said we would be honest with each other, and you’re scowling at me. If how I look puts that expression on your face, I’m in trouble.” She raised her head. “What are you really thinking about?”
How could he explain that he resented her even while he gave in to his desire to be with her? She made him question who he’d become. She brought the past painfully into the present. He didn’t consider himself an emotional man, but memories he’d beaten back nipped at his heels again. To be anything to Chelle, he wou
ld have to let her in, and that wasn’t something he was willing to do.
Nothing good could come from reopening old wounds. He thought back to who he’d been after his mother’s death. Rejected by Irene, reeling from the disappointment he’d seen in his father’s eyes, Mason had gone on a drug and alcohol binge and had woken up in an alley behind his favorite bar with the blood of another man on his shirt and hands.
Mason could recall only pieces of that night. He remembered leaving the bar and feeling out of control. A stranger had taunted him and unleashed a rage in Mason unlike any he’d known before or since. The only evidence he hadn’t killed the man was the lack of a body beside him when he woke.
Ruby had found him, taken him home, and cleaned him up. She never brought that night up, but it lingered between them. They had a lot in common back then. Ruby was making an insane amount of money from one particular movie she’d starred in that had taken the world by storm, and she was handling her fame as badly as he was handling his loss. She was as deep into substance abuse as he was, and they shared that dark habit together, becoming lovers along the way.
Their tumultuous relationship played out in the press. They were two lost, angry souls trying to raise each other up, but ultimately dragging each other down.
Ironically, it was Ruby who pushed him into rehab the first time. She saw the destructiveness of their lifestyle destroying him, even though she couldn’t see it hurting her. When released, he succumbed to the temptation of the lifestyle she still led and spiraled even further down, taking her with him. The day she said she loved him was the day he broke it off with her for good. He didn’t love her. How could he claim to while enabling her? He put himself in rehab the second time and stayed the hell away from Ruby for a long time afterward.
A better man would have gone back to save her. Mason was under no such illusion about himself. He chose a path he could control. A solitary one where he was all that mattered. Before long, he was in college and turning his life around.
And Ruby? She hid her addiction well enough to maintain an A-list Hollywood status. Years passed, and a sort of friendship replaced the turmoil they had once had. Neither asked the other questions they didn’t want to hear the answers to.
Mason never refused to escort her when she asked. He felt he owed her that at least. She was a stunning woman, but he knew the darkness of her core because his was identical. He didn’t binge anymore. He didn’t lose control, but the rage was still within him. Caged, but very much alive.
He looked into Chelle’s concerned eyes. Who would she become as a result of knowing him? Ultimately, he would fail her, just as he had failed his parents and Ruby.
He hoped Chelle didn’t make the mistake of falling in love with him.
I should have sent her away before things got to this level.
Instead, I convinced her to pretend to be engaged to me.
I agreed to anything to keep her with me.
How far will I take this before I admit I’m not the man she thinks I am?
“Mason,” Chelle said softly. “You’re scowling at me again.”
Mason forced a smile to his face. “Sorry.” And lied again. “I’m thinking about all the work I have piling up for me in Sacramento. Nice as this is, we should head back tonight.”
Chelle straightened beside him. “Of course.” She turned toward him, her heart in her eyes, and asked, “Are you upset about something?”
He kissed her deeply, then stood and offered a hand to her. “Let’s go shower.”
She didn’t look satisfied with his response, but she took his hand and walked with him toward the bathroom. He turned on the shower, and they stripped and stepped beneath the hot spray together. As carefully as if he were handling delicate china, he ran his lathered hands over her. After rinsing her, he sank to his knees before her and positioned one of her legs on the seat in the corner of the shower. He kissed his way across her thigh and to her parted sex.
When he flicked his tongue across her swollen clit, she gripped his shoulders tightly with both hands. There was so much he couldn’t give her, but he could give her this. Again and again, as often as she wanted.
Chapter Eleven
Chelle was on her way back from the ladies’ room at the pizza place she and Mason had randomly chosen, when she saw him talking to a curvy brunette. She ducked behind a planter. The woman was obviously flirting with him. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and arched her back, displaying her enormous, barely restrained breasts.
It was easy to feel threatened by the number of women Mason attracted, but opportunity didn’t define a man. She and Mason had spent a magical two weeks together, and she refused to believe it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her.
Not much happened in Fort Mavis, but with Mason, every day was an adventure. Mason had meetings he needed to attend, but when he was done for the day, he always had a surprise for her. Sometimes it was a local show, or he’d tell her to pack an overnight bag, and they were off to somewhere she’d mentioned she wanted to see.
With his private plane, he’d taken her more places than she would have seen in a month of traveling alone. They’d toured the Grand Canyon, won and lost money in Vegas, and gone skiing in Oregon. Chelle felt like a child playing hooky from her life, but she was enjoying every moment of it. Mason was attentive, funny, and an amazing lover.
Yet every once in a while Chelle wondered if it were too good to be true. This was one of those times. She stood silently behind the large plant and waited to see what he would say to the woman, who was holding out a paper that Chelle would have bet her last dollar had the woman’s number on it. Don’t take it, Mason. Please don’t take it.
Mason had that smooth smile on his face that made it impossible to know what he was thinking. A waiter asked Chelle if he could get by and blocked her view for a moment. By the time Chelle looked back, the woman was already walking away.
Crap.
The woman stopped, looked toward where Chelle was hiding, and began walking in her direction. For a split second, Chelle thought she was going to ask her why she was hiding, but the woman glanced past her, evidently in search of the bathroom.
Chelle couldn’t help herself. She asked, “Is that Senator Thorne?”
The brunette looked up with a dreamy smile. “It is. I recognized him right away. He’s even better-looking in person than he is on TV.”
“Did he say anything interesting?” Chelle gave herself an inner smack for asking, but that didn’t stop her from hanging on the woman’s next words.
The gorgeous brunette wrinkled her small nose. “He said he’s off the market. Engaged to some woman from Texas. Why are the good ones always taken?”
Chelle let out a long relieved sigh. “He told you he’s engaged? That’s awesome.”
“Sure,” the woman said, “if you’re the woman from Texas.”
With a smile as big as the state she was from, Chelle said, “I am,” and headed back to where Mason was sitting. He stood as soon as he saw her. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that rocked him back on his heels. Then, as if nothing had happened, she took her seat and reached for a slice of pizza.
With eyes freshly lit with desire for her, he sat down across from her. “What was that for?”
“I’m happy,” she said through her giddiness.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Apparently.”
Chelle took a bite of pizza. There was no way she was going to tell him why. Instead, she chewed slowly, then asked, “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me tomorrow? You said we’d stop somewhere on the way to Fort Mavis. Want to give me a hint?”
“No, I like to surprise you.” He cocked his head to one side as he spoke. It was a playful move that always made her fall for him just a little bit more. He may have used that expression on other women, but Chelle didn’t like to think so.
“And I like that you like to surprise me.”
Mason chuckled and folded h
is arms across his chest. “You’re a funny woman, Chelle.”
Secure in his attraction to her, Chelle fluttered her eyelashes at him and joked, “By funny you mean the sexiest woman you’ve ever met.”
He laced his fingers through hers on the table between them. “You’re definitely that.” He turned her hand over and caressed her wrist. “You’re also the happiest.”
Chelle tried to gauge why his comment didn’t sound like a compliment. “Is that a problem?”
His silence wasn’t reassuring.
Breathe. Don’t assume anything. Let him tell you how he feels.
Finally, he gave her hand a light squeeze. “These past two weeks have flown by. I didn’t expect them to.”
“Shocked we made it this long?” she joked.
His face remained serious. “Yes.”
Chelle took a calming breath. For as much as Mason could be an outrageous flirt, when it came to expressing how he felt, he didn’t often phrase it the way he meant it. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?”
A slight frown creased his forehead. “No, what?”
“I’m waiting for you to say something sweet that makes up for your admission that you thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“It wouldn’t have been your fault. I have a very low tolerance for substantial time with any woman.”
Chelle pulled her hand from his, placed it on her lap, and raised an eyebrow. “Still waiting.”
“I could tell you that you’re all I think about. How I find myself checking the clock, counting the hours until I get to see you again. But”—he leaned forward, shot her a wolfish smile, and winked at her—“you’re fun to rile up.”
Chelle threw her napkin at him and laughed. “You’re so bad.”
“Is that a problem?” He threw her question back at her, his eyes bright with humor.
“No,” Chelle said honestly. “I like it.”
He held his hand out to her, and she placed hers back in his. “Is there anything you don’t like?”
“Sure,” Chelle answered, but she had to stretch for something. She may not have figured out the rest of her life yet, but she was on one hell of a fun tangent. “Stray cats make me sad. I want to take them all home with me, even though I know I can’t. That’s frustrating.”