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“He’s a lawyer. They argue for a living.”
“Let’s just say that Scott was more passionate about his cases than his wife.”
Mason turned her to a forward-facing position, keeping his body close behind hers as they mounted the stairs. His breath tickled her ear. “If you were my wife, I’d be picking fights about stupid shit all the time, for the excuse of making up with you.”
This conversation had definitely taken a turn for the better. She knew better than to read too much into his last statement. Making up was one thing. Marrying Mason—that was a never-going-to-happen thing. No harm in enjoying the sentiment, though.
The shoes were next to the bed, where she’d kicked them off before flinging herself facedown on the mattress. She had one in her hand when he spoke.
“Take your time.” He was leaning against the wall, focused completely on her. The comment either meant she didn’t have to rush, or that he wanted her to slow down.
She’d put money on the latter. With one hand on the mattress, she bent at the waist, giving him a view of her backside in the tight pants as she slipped each foot into the heels ever so slowly. His eyes followed the movements, making an appreciative sweep of her entire body. Stripping for him always sent a wave of need straight to her hot spots. Getting dressed was having a similar effect.
“You have a lot of shoes,” he said when she opened the closet. From his vantage point he could see a dozen or so pairs of assorted heels. Tip of the iceberg.
“It’s a weakness. They’re my sexy treat to myself.”
“More than the stuff in your nightstand drawer?”
“Okay, maybe I have a few weaknesses.”
“Shoes and sex toys, that’s two. What else?”
“I don’t think I should point out any more of my quirks until you’re sufficiently drained from make-up sex. You might change your mind.”
“About you, or this?” He slid his arms around her waist from behind. “Not likely.” Lips grazed her neck. His hands snuck under her shirt, seeking her nipples. Found them.
She pressed against him—ass to his pelvis, breasts to his palms. “We could start the make-up sex here…”
Those talented fingers of his migrated south. Popped the button on her pants, eased the zipper down. Snuck under the lacy thong and found a needy target. He circled her clit until she was practically panting, she was so desperate to come. Then withdrew his hand.
“Grab whatever clothes and stuff you’ll need for the weekend.”
“W-what?”
“Unless you want to spend it naked, which I’m totally on board with.”
“But…you were just…I thought…what about the make-up sex?”
“You wanted tostartthe make-up sex here, so we started. This one?” He grabbed a tote bag from the shelf in her closet, a sexy and completely mischievous grin plastered on his face as she nodded. When she didn’t take the bag—because she was too busy picking her jaw up off the floor—he turned to the closet and started grabbing items. Mason’s selections for her weekend wardrobe—slinky sundresses and high-heeled shoes.
A million miles from the kinds of things Scott would’ve packed for her, and yet the muscles in her stomach clenched at the sight. The urge to snatch the bag and dump the items Mason had chosen, even though she loved every single one of them, overwhelmed her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Took a deep breath and focused on letting it out slowly.
Mason’s wolf whistle yanked her out of her attempted panic control session. “Damn. Maybe we should take a drive to Grand Bend, hit the beach.” A black bikini with red paisleys dangled from his finger, looking startlingly small in comparison to his large, strong hands. “Better yet, I’ll run the sprinkler in my backyard. That way I won’t have to behave myself when I see you wearing this.”
The knot unraveled and breathing got easier. Mason wasn’t Scott. They weren’t alike in any way. She needed to get a grip, and maybe some therapy. For the moment, that included calmly watching—and letting—a man pack for her.
“Aren’t you going to pack me a bra?” she asked when he added several pair of tiny panties from her lingerie drawer, but nothing else.
“Nah.”
She plucked one from the drawer and tried to stuff it in the bag, but he jerked it away. “Mason.If we’re going anywhere public, I need this.”
“I like that scolding tone, it’s hot.” The tote went up above his head while she waved the bra at him. “I like seeing your hard nipples poking at the material. No bra for you this weekend.”
That’s what he thought. She hooked her fingers under each strap at her shoulder and snapped. So what if it was red lace and would show under some of the dresses he’d chosen. She snapped again—and stuck out her tongue.
This proved to be a mistake.
