Wyne and Chocolate (Citizen Soldier Series Book 2) (18 page)

T
he week went by in a blur. Mason barely recalled half of it; he
was so eaten up with concern for Keiffer, he hardly allowed himself time to
think or feel other than for his brother’s loss. For his brother’s welfare.

With no
snow on the ground and a biting wind at his back, Mason sprinted on one of the
trails, trying to outrun his own anger and pain. He needed the exertion.
Something to get him by. Something to keep him busy. None of his siblings were
ready to work their jobs at the resort. Thank God they had very well-trained
staff to pick up the slack for a bit.

Finding
his best friend’s body when he’d arrived at the garage last Saturday had
changed Keiffer. Harmed Keiffer. Mason knew his younger brother would carry the
scar the rest of his life, and he fucking hated that he couldn’t do a damn
thing to help.

Sure, he
and his brothers had been by his side the whole week, during the wake and
funeral, which had closed down main street with the line of veterans that
arrived from around the county in cars, trucks, motorcycle, all there to
support their fallen brother.

It had
been touching and painful, especially when Gabe had added Greg’s picture to the
wall of the fallen soldiers he had in his restaurant to honor local servicemen.
No offense to Lea’s father, but he knew it would be a while before he and his
brothers would be able to eat in there.

His
heart was pounding, and so was his head from the sprint. He slowed down to a
jog, but kept moving. Had to keep moving. Maybe it would get the blood flowing
and his brain would come up with a miracle to get Keiffer through this goddamn
pain.

Each of
his brothers and his father were taking turns keeping an eye on him, just being
around him twenty-four seven. The guy wasn’t sleeping, barely shutting his eyes
before he was calling out, cursing the images in his head.

Mason’s
gut clenched and fingers curled into fists.
Dammit, Greg. How could you be
so goddamn selfish to do this to Keiffer, your father, and cousin Stone who’d
arrived last week?

 Whenever
those thoughts ran through his head, they were always accompanied by a rush of
guilt. Mason stopped, then closed his eyes as the remorse slammed his gut. The
poor kid was troubled. Needed more help than he’d gotten. Than he’d sought.
Than anyone had ever guessed.

And
wasn’t that just the fucking part he hated? The part Keiffer was blaming
himself the most over? Other than being somewhat quiet, no one had any damn
idea the soldier had been dealing with the demons he’d mentioned in the letter
found neatly in an envelope next to his body.

Resisting
the urge to scream at the top of his lungs, Mason jammed his hands in his
pocket, hunched his shoulders against the brisk wind and began to walk. He
hated being weak and useless, exactly how he’d felt the whole week. His brother
needed him. He had no idea if he was helping, but the whole family rallied around
Keiffer, including Lea who’d taken the week off and stayed with Ben at his
apartment at the resort. She’d done all the cooking, but his brother, who could
usually eat his way through a bucket of wings and a whole pizza, barely ate a
crumb.

Keiffer
could drink, though. They’d all gotten shitfaced with him the night after the
funeral. He rubbed his temple. That was two days ago, and he was still feeling
the effects of the Jack he’d downed.

A
horse’s whinnie and another’s snort broke through his haze. Mason stopped and
blinked at the field of chestnut mares ambling toward him and the fence that
kept them from the dirt road. He reached out to stroke one of the gentle
beauties. Somehow his feet had brought him to the spot where he’d given Jill
her wolf on Valentine’s Day.

One of
the best days of his life.

For a
moment, he allowed the memory of that day, of her smile, and laughter, and
taste, and hunger to fill him up and push aside all the sorrow, guilt, worry
and pain eating his gut.

Her
beautiful face flashed in his mind. Her mesmerizing, warm brown eyes and
luscious lips always had a ready smile, despite the pain and mistrust he
detected just under her surface. She understood his abandonment issues because
she carried them herself, and yet, although she hadn’t intended to walk into
his heart, she had and was on the same journey. The one where they learn to
trust again.

He did
trust her.

Mason’s
hand stilled as that thought sunk in and took root.

He
trusted Jill.

She
always had his back. Even this week. He hadn’t seen much of her, just a few
brief moments here and there, and a little bit at the wake and funeral where
she’d stood by his side, silently holding his hand, or brushing his arm with
hers, slipping it around his waist, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Something
he’d needed, yet never acknowledged or realized until now. It was as if she’d
known. Had offered her strength without question or request.

He blew
out a breath, his body suddenly craving that unrestricted, unconditional way
she had of caring without demanding something in return. The way he lost
himself in her warmth. How he felt whole and right in her arms. Needed…wanted.

With a
quick glance at the time on his phone, he cursed. She would’ve already left the
shop for the day. He twisted around and headed back to the resort. To his Jeep.
To Jill.

W
ork had kept Jill busy most of the week. There had been plenty
to do with the shop being so new, the constant influx of guests, plus internet
orders, and she welcomed the job and a reason to keep her mind occupied.

She
missed Mason. Ached for him and his family. For Keiffer. Her mind couldn’t get
around the fact the poor guy had been the one to find his friend. She couldn’t
fathom seeing Greg like that…

With a
shake of her head, she banished the thought, brushed a stray tear from her
cheek, and continued to stir the soup she had going on the stove. She’d never
lost anyone to suicide, but had learned through articles and news this past
week that the rate had risen alarmingly since the war. Many veterans suffering
from Post Traumatic Stress took their own lives. Too many.

She
sniffed back the emotions clogging her throat and concentrated on something
positive. The outpouring of support from the community and strangers to the
family and to Keiffer had warmed her heart. The way everyone had rallied around
the Guard this week, the flags that still graced porches and poles and
businesses. She even hung one from her porch, and the burned out shell of
Confection Connection in town, with Ryder’s help. She’d received her insurance
check this week, and his men had started to gut the shop.

A knock
sounded at the door. Jill turned off the burner, set the ladle down and walked
to her locked door. Sometimes, she had nightmares about Donny showing up since
his whereabouts were still unknown. But as she approached, she recognized the
set of shoulders and angle of the head she could just make out through the
small window. Her heart beats increased for a different reason. A good reason.

Flicking
the lock, she opened the door and sucked in a breath. Mason leaned against the
doorjamb, shoulders rounded, hands shoved in his coat pocket, face pale, gaze
hollow, mouth grim, hurting.

“Mason.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shutting and relocking the door.
“Are you okay?”

He
removed his coat and set it on a hook near hers by the door, then turned to
her, his mouth twitching up. “Better now,” he said, crushing her close and
dragging in a deep breath. “God, you smell good.”

She held
him tight and didn’t let go until he moved. He slid his hands to her hips and
backed her up into the room on her left. Her bedroom.

“I just
need…” His voice trailed off as if he had no idea how to finish the sentence.

His gaze
was hot and needy at the same time it was almost blank, numb with so much
emotion he’d been holding in all week.

Her
heart cracked and ached for the man who made her feel too much, too. It also
swelled at the realization he had family and friends, guardsmen, who always had
his back. Yet, he’d come to her, sought her out.

He was
strong. Capable. Independent. Yet, he’d come to her, sought her out.

She
reached up and gently placed a finger on his lips. “It’s okay,” she said,
sliding her palms up his chest and shoulders, finding his whole body tight and
rigid with tension. “I’ve got you.”

Then she
curled her hands around his jaw and drew his mouth to hers. He groaned and
immediately opened up, devouring, demanding, sucking nearly all her energy with
just that first kiss. When he broke for air, she was clinging to him, panting,
shaking with so much need she had no idea what to do first.

He did.

Grabbing
the bottom of her shirt, he pulled it up over her head and tossed the top on
the floor. Her bra followed. His hot, needy gaze slid over her bared chest
before his hands cupped each breast and he bent his head to take one pebbled
peak into his mouth and tug.

She
moaned and grabbed his head. His body was trembling with the effort to hold it
all in as he made his way to her other breast and took his time, driving her
mad with need.

“Mason.”
She gasped when he released her to drop to his knees and strip the rest of her
clothes from her body.

“Gorgeous,”
he said, his mouth zeroing right in on her center.

Another
gasp ripped up her throat while the rest of her strength dissipated. Knees buckling,
she grasped at his shoulders, but he was already a step ahead of her, scooping
her up and setting her on the bed. She bounced, and his gaze darkened as he
watched her breasts move.

“So
gorgeous.”

Jill sat
up, needing to see him, to have him just as naked and available. She pushed his
shirt up his flat abs as far as she could reach. “Take it off. All of it.”

I
n several, quick, economical movements, Mason was naked with a
foil packet in his hand, walking toward the bed. Her heart rocked at the sight
of his magnificent, lean body, and she anticipated him donning the condom and
sinking right into her.

So, when
he tossed the packet on the mattress before dropping to his knees in front of
her, she blinked.

A slight
smile touched his lips. “Not yet,” he said then set a hand on both of her knees
and spread them before leaning in to kiss her inner thigh. He glanced back up,
gaze so dark, nearly desperate. “I need you, Jill. I need all of you. Give me
all of you.”

Then his
mouth and hands took turns driving her mad, tempting, teasing, never quite
touching her where she ached. Where he made her ache.

“Mason.”
Her voice was hoarse, and she felt him grunt a second before he finally slipped
a finger over her center.

Her hips
rose off the bed, and he immediately clamped his mouth on her, sucking her
inside while his finger slid in at a different angle, harder, deeper…just
right.

He
moaned at the taste of her and increased his movements, and within seconds, she
came, panting his name, then…oh God, she came again because he hadn’t stopped.

Boneless,
heart still pounding hard in her chest, she sucked in air, breathing ragged as
she watched him roll the condom down his long length.

Anticipating,
needing him, she held his smoldering gaze and spread her legs farther in open
invitation. He planted his arms on either side of her head and kissed her long
and deep, with just enough tongue to reignite the heat still lingering in her
belly.

Running
her hands up his hot, slick back, she marveled at the play of muscles
underneath, and as soon as he lifted his mouth from hers and began kissing her
neck, she let out the moan that had been building.

“I need
you, Mason,” she said, holding his gaze as he drew back to stare down at her.
“I need you,” she repeated, this time running a hand down his strong jaw. “So
much.”

He
dropped his forehead to her chest, and she could feel him suck in a breath.
“You’re so sweet.”

His
hands were on her then, hot, possessive, making her shake with the need she’d
just confessed and the burning desire to have him push inside. He kissed his
way back up to her neck, then he was leaning over her, staring deep into her
eyes.

“I need
you, too, Jill,” he said, gaze touching her face in a caress.

An
unexpected, all consuming warmth spread through her body at the things she saw
in his eyes, things he revealed in his deep gaze. Her fingers curved around his
chin. “Mason,” she whispered, throat clogged with emotion.

He
smiled down at her, the sexiest, purest smile, as if she’d just made his world.
Then he pushed into her body, and she rode out a wave of some unknown emotion,
the same she saw mirrored in his raw, open gaze.

Words
weren’t required after that, his gaze told her what her heart longed to hear.
He lowered his mouth and kissed her so sweet and hot, she could barely breath.
She clung to him, letting her body answer his, arching up, thrusting, lost in
sensations too incredible to name.

But she
did call out his name as he thrust deep and pulled long, upping the pace with
each drive.

His breath
was hot by her ear. “I need you, Jill. Need me back.”

“I do,”
she whispered, fingers digging into his back as she met his thrusts, her body
coming apart, tightening, pulsing around him while her heart opened, revealing
what she’d known for a while.

She
loved Mason Wyne with her whole body, heart and soul.

He
kissed her with a fierce hunger and passion she eagerly met, watching, holding
his hot gaze as he drew back and thrust deep, finding his own release.

Moments
later, slumped on her, breathing ragged, heart pounding in his chest, he had
his fingers tangled in her hair, face pressed against her neck, while he was
still buried deep in her body. She had no idea how long they stayed that way,
only knew she didn’t want him to leave. God, she never wanted him to leave, and
really, really wanted him to want to never leave.

Blinking
back tears, she snuggled closer, enjoying every possible second.

He
kissed her neck, then jaw. “You okay?”

She
swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

He
stared at her a beat, then lowered his mouth to hers, gently kissing the side,
working his way across, slow, and sweet. “Me, too,” he said, rolling off her,
then hauling her close, tucking her into his side with a satisfied sigh. “Me,
too.”

T
wo weeks after Jill had rocked his world and knocked him the
hell off his axis, Mason was walking through the lobby of the resort, heading
to Timbers to meet up with Ethan and Ben, when a familiar female voice greeted
him.

“Hello,
Mason.”

His body
tensed, and although he wanted to keep walking, he slowed his steps and turned
toward the woman who once held, then ripped out, his heart.

Taking
in Renee’s strawberry blonde waves, crystal blue eyes, perfect, full lips and
hour-glass figure, he felt…nothing.

He
waited for the deep grief and pain of betrayal to hit him, but all he felt was
disdain, and a little irritated that he was being delayed from enjoying a beer
with his brothers.

“Hello,
Renee. Is something wrong?” He had to assume she was there as a guest.

“No, not
really,” she said, brushing a curl from her eyes as she stood there in her
designer jeans, sweater, boots and coat. “I, well, I just wanted to say I’ve
seen you around with that chocolate maker.”

His jaw
clenched at the lack of respect he heard in her tone. “Jill. Her name is Jill.”
He had no idea why he even bothered to waste time with the woman and turned to
leave when she grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I
just wanted to say, well to help, to suggest you don’t work such long hours and
try to do everything, especially now that you’ve got this successful place to
help run.” She released him to wave her hand around.

He just
stared at her.

“Between
being a soldier and taking off on deployments and drills, and activations, and
devoting the rest of your hours to this business, you’d better be careful,
Mason. You don’t want Jill to get tired of being alone in your relationship. To
feel neglected. Abandoned. It’s not pleasant. Believe me,” she said, and with a
flip of her head, she turned and strutted in the other direction, her high
heeled boots clicking across the tiled lobby floor.

Muttering
a curse, he continued toward Timbers, his stride not as fast, body not as
relaxed, and he dropped another curse for allowing the woman to get under his
skin. What he had with Jill was none of the scheming, cheater’s business.

The
chocolate
maker
was compassionate, caring, giving. She’d never cheat, or scheme or
leave him. And by the time he entered the restaurant bar and dropped into his
usual chair across from his two brothers, he almost felt better. Was almost
convinced to ignore the woman’s advice.

Almost.

But
what if she’s right,
that ever-present voice of doubt spoke up in his head.

“Well,
you look like you just bit into a lemon disguised as a watermelon,” Ben
greeted.

He
blinked at his brother, only half-hearing his greeting.

“You
know, sour when expecting sweet,” the guy tried to explain.

“What’s
up?” Ethan asked, pushing a mug of beer at him.

Sipping
the brew, he contemplated keeping the run in to himself, then shrugged. What
the hell. “Renee flagged me down in the lobby.”

“What
did she say? Wait. No. I don’t care, and neither should you,” Ben muttered,
voice lethal, gaze deadly and fastened, watching him closely.

“Yeah,
whatever she said, forget it,” Ethan agreed. “She’s in the past. Jill is the
here and now, and so completely right for you.” His oldest brother raised his
mug in a toast. “To Jill.”

Ben
lifted his. “Yes, to Jill.”

Mason
grinned and held his mug high. “To Jill.”

She was
what mattered. They were right. It was her smile, her warm gaze, her lips he
thought of at night, and warm body he held if she was near. She held his heart.
Controlled his pulse, his mood, his body with just a simple look, smile…sigh.

Jill
Bailey was his world. He drank his beer, and happily recalled how incredible
she felt when he was buried deep inside her warmth, lost in the heat and need
in her fathomless eyes, thrilled to know he could give her as much pleasure as
she gave to him. She had a gorgeous body, a beautiful soul, and a giving heart.

He was
the luckiest damn bastard on the planet. It was no wonder he was in love with
her.

Mason
stilled, mug raised at half-mast as his thoughts cleared and realization sunk
in. He not only loved Jill, he was
in love
with her, something he’d
never felt before. With anyone. Hell, he’d never opened up and shared himself
like he shared with Jill.

It
terrified and thrilled at the same time.

He set
his mug down, then blinked when Ethan said his name. “What?”

“Yeah,
he was out there,” Ben said with a grin. “Probably rehashing a hot night with
his woman. At least, I hope to God that was what you were doing and not giving
any credence to that blonde bitch.”

He
smiled and raised his mug. “Former.”

“Good,”
one brother said and the other nodded.

Ethan
leaned closer. “So then, I’m guessing you didn’t hear what Ben said about the
latest deployment scuttlebutt?”

Mason’s
heart sank. Deployment? He glanced at Ben who nodded.
Ah hell.

“Looks
to be about fifteen months out. We’re on the list to fill the Fifty-first’s
roster,” his brother confided. “Nothing definite yet, but you know how it
goes.”

He
nodded, heart squeezing tight. Not from worry about going overseas. He was
terrified about the home front. About Jill.

You’d
better be careful, Mason. You don’t want Jill to get tired of being alone in
your relationship. To feel neglected. Abandoned.

Renee’s
words echoed in his head like a bull horn. His gut told him Jill would never
feel that way if he was deployed, and yet, he couldn’t shake his long
cultivated mistrust that she would. And leave if she knew. Cut and run.