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Authors: Rachell Nichole

Tags: #Erotic Contemporary

Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce (18 page)

BOOK: Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce
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“What are you thinking?” he asked her.

She blinked too fast and took a moment to catch her breath. She’d never admit what she’d been thinking about. Now was not the time to get attached to him, damn it. She couldn’t afford that kind of letdown. Not again. She knew better. She
knew
it, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from inching closer and closer to him with every passing minute.

“Just working over the plan. You ever written a love letter before?”

“You mean besides the note I left you yesterday morning?” he teased.

She laughed. That hadn’t exactly been a love letter, but it had been sweet. She’d tucked it away in her suitcase after checking out of the hotel and bringing her stuff here.

Amy
, it had read,
the coffee’s in the pot. Should still be hot and fresh. Here’s a key to the apartment. Why don’t you go grab your stuff from the hotel and stay here until you go home? Would seem silly to stay at a hotel when we need to spend so much time planning. Besides, if we’ve only got five days, we should enjoy them together
. She’d almost cried at that part.

I’ll be home by six. I’ll see you then. Have a great day.

Mason

Oh, PS: Despite everything else, I’m really glad you ambushed me. Again.

That part had officially brought a tear to her eye, but she wouldn’t tell him that either.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a sonnet, but I think it still counts,” she said. She wanted to keep things light, teasing. She’d already shared more of herself with him than she’d shared with any other guy before. She had a few friends from when she was younger who knew all about her mom and what her family had gone through, but that was because they’d lived it alongside her. Not even her college roommate of four years had ever really known all the details about Amy’s childhood spent learning about full-body scans and white blood cell counts.

“Okay, here goes.” He grabbed his infamous yellow pad of paper and a blue pen.

Martha
, he wrote at the top. His phone trilled with some happy tune, and she jumped. It was entirely too loud in the stillness of his dining room. He set the pen down and grabbed the phone.

“Hello,” he said. His mouth straightened into a line. “Lew, I don’t want to talk about this.” She felt as if she should give him privacy, but she didn’t move. She had to let him know she would help him deal with the mess she’d created.

“You never want to talk about it.” Lewis’s voice was loud enough for her to hear through the phone.

Mason’s shoulders tensed. “Dan, please. Just let it go.”

Dan? She couldn’t hear the response this time. She stood and walked silently into the adjoining kitchen. There wasn’t a wall between the two spaces, so it wasn’t really much privacy, but she needed a drink, and then she would go down the hall and let him talk to his brothers in peace. They seemed to both be on the other end of the line, though he’d told her Dan lived in New Orleans and Lewis was in San Antonio. Or San Antone, as he called it.

“You don’t understand. You didn’t see her. It was like— Yes, like before Dad left. But…better than that. Like it was ten years ago, even.” Mason stopped to listen. “No. I won’t be coming. I refuse to spend any time with that man. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

She knew immediately he was talking about their dad. Mason pulled the receiver away from his ear as shouts erupted from the other end.

“You hate him. You’ve always hated him. I never understood it. Mason, he’s our Dad. How can you say you don’t even want to see him for Christmas?” She couldn’t tell if it was Lewis’s voice or Dan’s, but the words were the same. Hurtful. Confused.

“You don’t… We’re done talking about this. Let it go,” Mason said.

More loud voices she couldn’t understand came from the other end. Mason’s face reddened; his fingers shook.

Tell them
, she wanted to shout.
Let them share the burden and stop blaming you for something that isn’t your fault
. His relationship with his father was important, but so was the relationship he had with his brothers. She couldn’t bear to sit and watch him destroy both. It wasn’t fair. He had such a big family. A loving family, from what she’d seen. And he was cutting himself off from them by keeping this damned secret. She put her glass down on the counter and walked back into the dining area.

Mason didn’t look up from his phone. She moved behind him and set a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to offer him comfort, support, even though she didn’t agree with his silence. She understood his wanting to protect the people he loved. Hell, she even admired him for it. But the toll it took on him broke her heart. She ran the fingers of her other hand through his curly hair, delighting in the way the strands caressed and encircled her fingers.

“They’re divorced. It’s final. Get over it.” His voice had turned hard, but she knew it was because he refused to tell them what he wanted to and not because he didn’t love his brothers.

His mother—and his father—owed him a great deal. Without saying another word, Mason clicked the phone shut and slammed it down on the table. The forks rattled against the ceramic plates. She was pretty sure there had still been someone talking on the other end of the line when he’d hung up. He lowered his head, and she circled her arms around him. She pressed herself into his upper back and held him tightly around his biceps and chest.

She kissed the top of his head, but he stayed stiff in her arms.

“Why don’t you tell them the truth?”

He shook his head, remaining silent.

“I know you’re worried about them having a terrible relationship with your dad, but this wedge you’re driving between yourself and your brothers is going to hurt them in the end too. Not to mention the way it’ll make you feel.”

He sagged against her, finally accepting the comfort she offered. “I know. But…”

“You can’t help wanting to protect them the way no one ever protected you when you were a kid?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“They’re grown-ups now, Mason. I’m sure they’ll find a way to make peace with it all.” She wanted to tell him that he needed to forgive his dad. She knew it would be difficult, that Mason would have to go through a lot of pain to get to that point of forgiveness. But she also knew what it was like to lose a parent. Mason had lost his father just as surely as she’d lost her mother, only he’d done so by choice. She understood the pain a loss like that caused, and she wanted Mason to see that one day, even if not anytime soon, he would regret no longer having a father.

But he wasn’t ready to hear any of that, and she wasn’t sure she should be the one to tell him. She wasn’t really anything special to him. They were friends, of sorts. Lovers, definitely. Something that delicate, that emotionally wrought should come from someone special. That meant it wasn’t her place, and she should keep her mouth shut.

“Maybe after Christmas I can talk to Mom and tell her I know everything. And convince her they deserve to know the truth.”

She smiled but knew he couldn’t see it. “That’s a good idea.”

She squeezed him tighter for a second and then let go. She dipped two fingers in the whipped cream and smushed it on his face. Mason hollered, and she jumped back, racing from the room.

“Gotcha!”

He chased her into the living room, and she darted across to the other side of the coffee table.

“You think that’s going to save you?” he said, wiping the cream from his face and licking his fingers. One hand rested behind his back.

What the hell did he have planned now?

She moved to the left, and he mirrored her footsteps. She feinted one way and stepped back instead. He lunged for her, leaping over the coffee table with one foot and driving her back against the wall. He caged her between his arms, his hands just above her forearms. She was trapped.

Heat rushed through her, and her breath came in short gasps. She shivered at the passion, the edge of punishment in his eyes. He dipped his head to the side of her neck and licked one long, hot line from the curve of her shoulder to her ear.

“Hold still,” he said. His voice was low, husky against her ear, and her body clenched. She took a shaky breath and held it, not daring to move. His right arm shook beside her, and something clicked. “Close your eyes.”

Her eyes slid closed. The loud
pop
and
fizz
that came next made her jump, and something wet and cold landed on her skin, along the line he’d just licked. But she didn’t look. The dark promise of what would come next held her immobilized. She trusted him. He’d teased and tortured her before, and she’d always survived. If barely.

He breathed against her neck, the contrast between the heat of his mouth and the cool wetness of whipped cream making her gasp. He licked along the edges of the cream, cleaning just a bit off her skin, then returning for a second pass. Each touch of his tongue against her skin drove her insane. She leaned back against the wall, using it to support the weight her shaky legs refused to.

He chuckled, and the sound was all male satisfaction. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Exactly how hot and wet she was for him right now. When her neck was clean, he pulled down the bottom of her shirt, exposing the tops of her breasts. Another spray of cream made her jerk. He leaned over her cleavage and licked her clean. She wanted to watch, but the sensations were too intense with her eyes closed to risk opening them.

“Lift your arms,” he said.

She did, and he pulled her shirt off. He reached behind her and unhooked her bra, then slid it down her arms and tossed it on the carpet. He tickled her abdomen with his knuckles as he undid her jeans. After hooking his hands inside the waistband of the denim and thong she wore beneath, he pulled the clothes down her hips.

He gasped. “Amy.” He groaned her name.

“Yes?” She played innocent, as if she hadn’t taken extra care in the shower with her razor while he was making dinner. The air sliding over her bare labia brought a rush of wet heat to her core. He rose to his feet, and then he lifted her. She kicked off her jeans and underwear as he carried her across the living room. She stole a peek but quickly closed her eyes again as he laid her gently on the cold coffee table. She set her feet flat against the floor, her knees bent fully, but her body weight supported by the table.

“Let me have a look at you, gorgeous,” he said.

“By all means.” She spread her legs wide, and he moaned. He caressed his fingers up the insides of both her thighs. It was erotic as hell to lie there completely bare beneath his gaze and know how hot he was for her at that moment.

“Very nice. Stay right there.”

Like she was going anywhere? His clothes swished as he stood and walked across the living room. Wherever he went, he made no noise. She lay there, her core open to the cool air and the heat of his gaze. If he was even looking. She wanted to sit up, to see, but she forced herself to hold still and wait.

Anticipation made her orgasms much more intense. The longer he made her wait, the better it would be. She knew that. Logically. But her body was already crying out for release, and he’d barely touched her. All through dinner, the silk of her thong had rubbed against her oversensitive flesh in a way it just couldn’t do if she wasn’t shaved bare.

He remained silent, and her body began to shake. If he didn’t come back soon, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. She jumped as his fingers grasped her thighs again. She moaned at the contact.

“Oh, baby, you’re close already, aren’t you?”

All she could do was whimper in response. Then gasp at the cold rush of cream sprayed over her sex. She cried out, shaking as the sensations overwhelmed her. He held tightly to her legs as the quivering lessened, and then the real torture began. He licked her, slowly at first, but soon his strokes became faster, more insistent. He swirled his tongue up and down each bare labium, making her scream and beg for more.

“Mason!”

Still he avoided that one spot—the tight bundle of nerve endings that would send her over the edge in seconds. He lifted her legs from the floor and spread her thighs wider. She reached out to support her knees with her hands as she lay completely open for him. He spread her folds which were slick with his saliva and her arousal. He exposed her clit to the air, and her pelvis jerked.

The small bead of cold whipped cream that he squeezed onto her clit made her sheath clench hard.

Finally he fixed his mouth over her sensitive nub and sucked, giving her what she needed. He swirled his tongue against it once, and she screamed, her body convulsing. He pushed his hands beneath her to cup her ass and hold her closer as he continued his assault until she cried out a second time, spasming again and again. He lifted his head and kissed the inside of her thigh, and she opened her eyes, blinking in the brightness and looking down at him. He grinned, and she slipped off the table and into his waiting arms.

Payback certainly was a bitch.

Chapter Twenty

“Amy, we have to get this love letter written. You have to stop distracting me,” Mason said. It was Sunday afternoon already, and he had to go to work in the morning. She kept distracting him with food and movies. She’d even made him play a few hands of gin. And of course, he was taking her every chance he could get. She was never very resistant to his charms. In fact, she was usually the pursuer. It was kind of nice to be the pursuee for once, but they had to focus.

“I know,” she said, but she turned back to the television anyway. “Wait, I love this part.”

Who knew a kindergarten teacher had such a sick sense of humor? He’d always loved a dark comedy, or comedy of most kinds, and Amy completely shared his tastes. She’d taken one look at his movie collection and pulled out an assortment of Guy Ritchie, Troy Duffy, and Tarantino movies. They’d been laughing ever since. But now it was time to get down to business.

Her feet rested in his lap, and he tickled the bottom of one.

She squirmed and squealed. “Hey, stop that.”

BOOK: Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce
11.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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