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“I know what you need.” Mason pulled his fingers out and speared his tongue inside me, his thumb working my clit.
I went off like a rocket, crying his name over and over.
Mason licked me through the ebbing waves before crawling up my body and kissing me hungrily. “Change of plans,” he said. “I need to be inside you now.”
“Yes.” I slid my hand into the back of his hair, anchoring us together as he lined himself and slowly sank into me.
A groan of approval rumbled in his chest, a sound I would never tire of hearing. Because I did that. I made this broody, closed-off guy fall apart.
And there was no better feeling in the world.
* * *
Sunday, I agreed to work the lunchtime shift at Millers, which seemed like a really bad idea after a night of drinks and dancing with the girls.
Janelle had quit. A fact I didn’t feel great about, but it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t even know she existed when Mason and I started fooling around.
The team was traveling back from Minnesota after back-to-back games against the University of Rochester. They’d lost one and drew the other, and part of me wondered if morale was down because of my father’s sudden disappearing act.
“It’s slow today,” Kal said as I placed some empties on the end of the bar.
“Have you talked to Janelle?”
“Hell no. That ship has sailed. I’m team Harper all the way.”
“Thanks,” I chuckled. “I appreciate it. I hope we get some customers soon, or it’s going to be a long—”
“Harper?” Kal said, but I couldn’t speak, watching with disbelief as my father wandered into the bar and scanned the room. He found me, and his gaze darkened.
“Friend of yours?” Kal asked.
“Unfortunately. I’ll handle this, okay?” I hurried over to him, my heart aching at the unkempt state of him. If I needed any proof that he’d fallen off the wagon again, this was it.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
“So this is where you work?” He scoffed. “It isn’t much.”
I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to usher him to a table in the back of the room. “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll get you something to drink.”
“Whiskey?”
“I was thinking water or soda.”
“My money is as good as anyone else’s.”
“Of course, it is. I just think—”
“You just couldn’t keep your nose out of my business, could you?” he sneered, anger simmering in his bloodshot eyes.
“W-what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, girlie. First, your mother decides to grow a pair and tell me it’s over. And then Joe tells me he’s letting me go. Just like that, he cut me from the coaching staff. All because of you.”
Mom had what?
I couldn’t process what he was saying. It didn’t make any sense. So I focused on the one thing I could.
“Dad, I swear, it wasn’t me. I didn’t talk to Coach Tucker. I didn’t—”
