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She’d give up television for the rest of her life if it meant one more trip to the Met with Mary Walker by her side, spouting facts and trivia like a walking, talking art history textbook.
A soft sound at the end of the hall pulled her out of her memories, and she looked back toward the open door. She was close enough now to get a good look at the room beyond. The square room jutted out from the side of the house, the glass walls giving perfect panoramic views of the Green Mountains. Only a long white sofa, a matching ottoman, and a single end table broke up the large, airy space.
Mason stood at the far window wall with his back to her—hands in pockets, suit jacket gone, and sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She found herself staring at the whipcord muscles of his forearms, remembering the strength of those arms, the feeling of his large hands when he held her, kissed her, spanked her. She clenched her thighs together and took a slow, deep breath.
She wanted this man so much she shook with need.
But she needed answers even more.
“Mason?” she said as she climbed the short flight of stairs into the room.
He turned at the sound, the desire in his eyes sending a scorching heat through her. Fucking hell, he’d even loosened his tie. How could she possibly stay strong and ask questions when he looked so unbelievably sexy? So relaxed and beautiful, but still ready to devour her?
Some of the intensity left his eyes as he looked at her, taking in her clothing before studying her expression with a slight frown. “Is something wrong?”
“I need to know something before we go any further.” She tried to sound neutral rather than accusatory, but the way his frown deepened, she may not have succeeded.
“Ask me anything.”
Heat flooded her cheeks, but she couldn’t back down now. With a deep breath, she forced the words out. “Are you married?”
His eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. “I beg your pardon?”
“Or in a relationship? I obviously know about the women at the Manor, and I don’t care about that, but if you’re also in a committed relationship, I don’t think I can—I mean, I wouldn’t want to...” The sentence trailed off as her mind spun, unable to gain any traction.
Mason studied her for the longest, most excruciating ten seconds of her life. When he finally spoke, his voice was as controlled and neutral as she’d failed to be. “Where is this coming from?”
“The bathroom downstairs,” she said, face so hot she must be red as a tomato. “All that stuff in there obviously belongs to a woman.”
Understanding filled his eyes, though the rest of his expression remained unchanged. “No, I’m not married. And the last relationship I would refer to as committed ended more than eight years ago.”
It was Addison’s turn to frown. Maybe Gabriel was wrong about taking guests off property. Or perhaps as one of the founders, Mason didn’t think the rules applied to him.
Seeming to read her thoughts, Mason said, “I’ve never brought a guest here either. That all belongs to Olivia.”
“Olivia?” Her voice came out quite a bit louder than intended. “Olivia Adams?” God, was he was admitting to having an affair with his business partner’s fiancée? How fucked up would that be?
And what a fucked-up position it would put her in, having to either keep the secret or potentially destroy a relationship.
Mason shook his head, a knowing look in his lapis lazuli eyes. “A few of us get together sometimes on Saturday nights to unwind between guests. We almost always meet here because my house is closest to the Manor. But Aiden and Olivia live over an hour away, so they usually sleep over rather than drive home in the middle of the night.”
Addison felt an intense desire to disappear into a puff of smoke, never to be seen or heard from again. Instead, she forced her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry for assuming the worst.” Cringing, she added, “Twice.”
“It’s all right.” His voice sounded so gentle and soft. Crossing the room, Mason brushed his fingertips over her cheeks and up into her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I like knowing you wouldn’t be part of an affair. It makes me respect you more.”
Relief flooded through her, and she buried her face against his chest. “Thank you,” she muttered, her voice muffled by his shirt. “Thank God I was wrong. It would’ve killed me to walk away from you.”
With a low hum of satisfaction, Mason buried his hands deeper in her hair. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until I’m through with you.” He took a deep breath, then made a soft sound of frustration. “Though I’m going to have to insist you make a list of the products you usually use, so I can have them here before we do this again. I want you smelling like orange blossoms again, not smelling like Olivia.”
A laugh bubbled up out of her. Pulling away enough to look up into his eyes, she asked, “We’re doing this again?” Her voice came out softer than she intended, and more than a little unsure.
An icy fire burned in his eyes. “I don’t have a clue how long it’ll take to get you out of my system, Addison. But I do know it’ll be a lot longer than a single weekend.”
She felt those words in her throbbing clit and empty pussy. Squeezing her thighs together, she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next.
“Are you ready to begin?” he asked, voice low and full of promises.
“Yes.”
