Game Plan (11 page)

Andie looked over her shoulder in time to see his face as he straightened and sank into her waiting body. The muscles in his neck and shoulders were taut. His jaw clenched. But no strain showed in his eyes, only a spark meant just for her. His mouth curled into a sexy smile. The knowing kind.

His left hand splayed on the bed beside her. She rose to her forearms, pressing her back to his hard chest, giving her breasts room to rasp against the blanket with each deep, rhythmic thrust. Her nipples tightened. She squeezed a hand between her body and the bed. Pulled back the folds of skin preventing her clit from enjoying the same hot friction. Oh yes. Much better.

“I love your soft little moans.” He breathed the words in her ear. Brought his right hand under her and caressed her breast. The gentle touch ended when he reached her nipple. He plucked it, rolled it between his fingers, pinched.

Heat bloomed under his touch, shot straight to her clit. “Oh god. Harder.”

Mason’s lips brushed the side of her neck. “Pinch you harder, or fuck you harder?”

“Yes.”

No more questions, he just acted. Clamped down on her nipple, relented, then squeezed the bud again. He drove into her harder. Ground his hips to her ass, forcing her mound to rub the edge of the mattress. His head pressed hers, his face buried in her hair. Cursing, almost growling as he held back, focusing on her. Waiting for her. Not because he had to—because he chose to.

“Now,” was all she managed as her climax hit. It was enough.

“Fuck…you feel so fucking good.” He ground out the words while slamming into her, taking his release hard and deep in her body.

She pancaked to the bed with him on her back. Both of them sweaty, hot and winded. As if they’d run a marathon. “I won.”

“Yeah? Me too.” He kissed her neck before making a quick trip to the bathroom, wherever that was, then laughing when he reentered the room. “You haven’t moved.”

“Can’t. I think I’ve become one with your bed.”

“So you’ll be right here waiting for me when I get home from work later? Because I’m good with that scenario.” He pulled his clothes on and gave her ass a playful smack. “Five minutes left for sandwiches. I have ham or peanut butter.”

Yes, she ate simple sandwiches all the time. But they reminded her of lunchbox duty. That she was a mom with responsibilities, not some carefree single who could slip off to have a super-hot romp anytime she wanted.

“Babe?” Mason waited half in and half out the doorway.

“Oh. Neither, thanks.”

“I’d make you something better if I didn’t have appointments this afternoon.”

“I know. Go feed yourself. I’ll be out in a minute so we can get back.” She forced a smile until he left, then buried her face in his comforter to muffle her sigh and groan. God, he was too good to be true. Why couldn’t he be a few years older, or prematurely graying, at least?

“You okay?”

Andie’s head snapped up to find him leaning against the doorframe, watching. But for how long? “I’m great.” Mostly, sort of. She stood and dressed, one scattered piece of clothing at a time. “If you don’t hustle that fine behind, you won’t have time to eat.”

Mason didn’t move. “Fuck the sandwich.”

“That’d be kind of messy, especially if it was peanut butter. Though I do like the idea of licking it off you afterward.”

His lips twitched with a hint of smile. Good. They didn’t have time for a serious conversation. Even if they did, talking about her issues wasn’t on her agenda. She squeezed beside him, putting her hands on his chest. The muscles flexed under her palms. Just like that, she wanted to strip him down again. Run her hands over every inch of his fantastic body. For starters.

“We need to leave this room. Now, or you’re going to have some upset clients this afternoon. You might have to call in.”

His smile grew, spreading to his eyes. “I have a pretty solid work ethic. I’m rarely late and I’m never sick.”

“It sounds like you’re challenging me to corrupt you, Dr. Lang.” She let her hands slide down to cup his cock and leaned into him. He moved fast, his body pinning hers to the door, his firm grip keeping her wrists above her head. Proof that she couldn’t make him to do anything. Exactly the opposite, the control was all his. And sweet heaven, did she want him to use it.

“Babe, the look on your face.”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Felt her cheeks heat up.

“Me holding you this way…” He stretched her arms higher, his eyes locked on hers while he did. “It turns you on.”

She wasn’t ashamed of her sexual fantasies. Not this one, not any. The best way to find out whether he felt the same was to lay it out there. With Scott, anytime and every time she’d suggested something other than the basics in the bedroom, her then-husband had either looked disinterested, disgusted, or he’d disappeared altogether. Sometimes all three in succession. Mason’s reaction couldn’t be any worse. She took a breath and crossed the fingers held high overhead.

“If you wanted to…restrain me, or…” Nervousness stole the moisture from her mouth, turning her voice into a throaty whisper. “Or do…other things, I’d…”

“You’d what?” Evidence of his interest pressed against her belly. His mouth moved closer to hers, close enough to kiss her. But he didn’t. “You’d let me? If I tied your hands while I fucked you, or spanked your pretty ass until it turned pink, you’d let me?”

“It’s not that I’d let you. I want you to. I want to do…everything…with you.”

“Fuck.” He muttered the curse as his lips sealed over hers.

Every time Mason kissed her, Andie expected her skin to burst into flames. This kiss, though, could set off fire alarms for blocks. His tongue teased in and out of her mouth. She tried to capture it and he backed off until his lips barely touched hers. He nipped and retreated, plundered and withdrew, torturing her with kisses she wanted desperately to return, but couldn’t. Impossible with her arms taut overhead and pinned to the door by a six-two wall of muscle. But then, that was the point, what she’d fantasized about for so long. Not having to provide her own pleasure. Not being able to.

Mason’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Shit, I have to go, I’m already late.” He dipped his head for another kiss. Longer, deeper. He released her wrists but kept his palms on the wood with his forehead pressed to hers. “I should let you corrupt me, ’cause the only place I want to be this afternoon is here with you.”

There it was again. The sexy sweetness that made her heart flip and her panties wet at the same time. God, she was so gone for him already, it was scary. And thrilling. They’d shared more passion in four days than she’d experienced in all her years with Scott, even in the beginning. Maybe if she’d fallen in love with a man like Mason instead, she’d still be married today. Not actually Mason, of course. He would have been what back then—eighteen to her twenty-five, maybe? Barely legal. Truth was, as much as she wanted to know his age, the prospect terrified her. Especially since he’d avoided the question the couple of times she’d casually slipped it into conversation. For now, ignorance meant bliss, lots of it.

Ugh, she was so going to hell for this fling.

“Let’s go. I don’t want you to get in trouble with the boss.”

“I’m sure he’ll give me a pass. He thinks you’re hot.”

“Tell him the feeling is
very
mutual.” She smiled and ducked under his arm, into the hall.

He grabbed her hand, keeping her close while he locked up. Then, right there on the front stoop, he pulled her in for a hug and kiss none of his neighbors would mistake as platonic. He certainly wasn’t afraid to publicly display affection. Or rather, attraction. That she was obviously older than him and he didn’t give a rat’s ass made it even better. Mason’s behavior set the bar awfully high for any men she dated in the future.

“When are you free?” he asked.

“We could do lunch again.”

“Yeah, we probably should. I failed royally on taking you anywhere you want.”

“Wrong. This is exactly where I wanted to go. And the service here was excellent, but…” She bit the inside of her cheek attempting to squelch a smile. “You’re sort of like Chinese food.”

“This I gotta hear.”

“I
was
totally full and satisfied while I was having you, but fifteen minutes later and I’m hungry for more.”

“Babe, I think that’s got more to do with your appetite than what I’m serving.” He laughed at the blush creeping across her face and led her to the car. “Now back to the question of when I can see you again—really see you—because I want a whole lot more than an hour.”

Chapter Seven

Mason let the cool spray pound on his shoulders. Euthanizing pets didn’t get easier as the number grew. Even when it was absolutely necessary, it drained him every time. Didn’t matter if he’d known the client for years or was simply doing his turn at the shelter. He’d lost count about a year ago, despite promising himself he never would.

He turned his face to the water. Fumbled around for the soap and began scrubbing. Face first, working downward, ritualistically washing away the lingering sense of death and lack of control. Putting Mrs. Johnson’s dog to sleep was the last thing he wanted to do an hour before seeing Andie. But loss doesn’t wait for a convenient time to drop into your life. He knew that firsthand.

Ah shit, now he was thinking about Stacey and the pregnancy she’d ended against his wishes. No matter how many times he tried to sell himself the story that it hadn’t been a real baby yet, he didn’t buy it. Same with the line about the abortion being in the best interest of their futures. Yeah, that one sucked too. But it was the past. Five years ago and forever unchangeable. And the present looked damn fine these days. Business at his clinic was increasing steadily. Friends and family were close by but not on top of his every move. Now he had Andie.

Yeah, it had only been a week. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was in love with her. The sex was phenomenal from the first time and it was only going to get better. Hell, she’d come to his office yesterday during lunch for the sole purpose of blowing him. Because it was all she could squeeze into her schedule and because it seemed fair, according to her, since she’d already gotten herself off that morning. Twice.

She’d walked in, announced all this, locked the door and gone to her knees. Unbuttoned her shirt to show him those perfect tits, sucked him off, then left with a smile on her face. How many women did that? None that he’d ever met. And she had a brain to go with all that sex-kitten stuff. A personality with her own likes, dislikes and interests. A self-sufficient life. Not like the twenty-something cling-ons people kept shoving in his direction.

So, yeah, he also wasn’t stupid enough to think he couldn’t fall in love with Andie.

He threw on cargo shorts and a t-shirt and chucked some extra stuff in a backpack. Gave Hugo half a can of real tuna and told him not to wait up.

* * * * *

“You brought me roses,” Andie said when she answered her door. “Red ones, for Canada Day, they’re beautiful. Come in while I put them in water.”

“Red for passion, not patriotism, and they pale next to you in the beautiful department.” He purposely stayed a couple steps behind while following her to the kitchen. The form-fitting black-and-white dress accented her small waist and the sweet curves of her body. Gorgeous, head to toe. The material ended halfway down her thigh, showing off a pair of phenomenal legs begging to be touched. The perfect length for him to get his hand under every chance he got. Like, under the patio table, or if they snuck into the bathroom…

“You’re staring,” she said when she turned to face the sink.

“I don’t know what I was expecting to see you in today, but that dress isn’t it. That’s a whole lotta sexy for a house party. Definitely not the kind of thing you wear to blend into the crowd.” He was going to be the envy of every man at the party with her at his side.

“Maybe you should go without me, then.” She abandoned the flowers to yank off her shoes. One intensely dirty look later, she stormed out of the kitchen and up to her room.

What the hell? “Andie,” he called from the bottom of the stairs. Nothing. He tried again, louder and firmer. “
Andie.
Come down here and t—”
Slam
went the bedroom door. Guess she wasn’t interested in sharing whatever the fuck had set her off.

He didn’t mind talking. Dealt with tears better than a lot of men. But he drew the line at drama. Not interested. Andie didn’t want to go to the party—didn’t want him here? No problem. He knew how to slam doors too. Starting with the fancy front one on her house.

Less than a block from his parents’ place, he pulled over. Smacked his palms off the steering wheel and ripped a few curses. Maybe he wouldn’t bother with the party. Going without Andie held zero appeal, and not only because there’d be questions. Today was the first day of her son’s trip to the cottage—two weeks of seeing her whenever and as frequently as he wanted.

So why was he sitting here alone? It’d taken some serious sweet-talking, a healthy dose of dirty talk and a few omissions of the truth to convince her to go to the party with him. Freaking out that way…she must’ve had a reason. Probably stress over meeting his friends and family. Shit, just this morning she’d told him—again—how nervous she was. He’d been an idiot back there, letting his past experiences affect what he had going with Andie. He definitely should’ve tried harder to put her mind at ease. Instead he’d bailed like an immature dumbass.

Enough knee-jerk reactions—on both their parts. He made a U-turn and hit the gas. They had a party to get to. If he hustled, maybe she’d still be wearing that dress.

* * * * *

The dress went back into the closet. She liked it too much to return it. Hopefully it wouldn’t be outdated by the time she had an opportunity to wear it again.

One by one, Andie fingered the hanging clothes. Lots of colors—red, purple, orange, teal. Bold patterns, curvy tops and dresses. Jeans that showed off her body instead of hiding it. Enough high heels to stock a small boutique. Obliterated from her wardrobe were tan, blue, pastels, hideous practical shoes and anything pleated. A shiver ran down her spine from thinking about the stuffy crap she used to wear. If Mason thought she dressed too sexy for his family get-together, too bad. She shut the closet doors and walked away. Never again would she change her clothes—or anything—to pacify a man.