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“I’ll do it.” I said firmly, and I gently took the needle from his hand and he nodded.
I’d never sutured someone before, but I figured I’d do a better job than Mason doing it to himself. Maybe. I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to help. I pushed myself up onto the counter and pulled his arm across my lap. I tried to ignore the zing that sliced through my core at his heavy arm resting on my bare thighs. He was hurt, and I needed to help him. That’s what I needed to focus on. I hesitated with the needle above his arm for a moment.
“Go ahead.” Mason said firmly.
I took a breath and looked up at him standing in front of me, shirtless and sexy as hell. “I’ve actually never done this before, I admitted.”
“I’ll guide you.” He nodded.
I went to work and quickly pulled the thread through his skin. The glue was keeping his wound together on the more shallow end of the cut, but not on the deeper side, and now as I pulled his skin back together the dried glue dug into his tender flesh and he didn’t say a word, but I could tell it didn’t feel good based on his rapid breathing.
“We should have started with this.” I mumbled as I concentrated. Mason talked me through the basic stitch, and I worked my way along the wound. Twelve uneven, oddly spaced stitches. “I’m sorry. This probably isn't going to heal very well. I think you’ll have a scar.” I apologized.
“Then I’ll always have a memory of this trip with you, won’t I?” Mason stood with one arm across my lap, and one arm braced against the counter, and I suddenly became aware of his hungry gaze on my lips.
“All done.” I whispered, barely able to get a word out. I was thrumming with energy for Mason. We were so close, we were touching even, but not in the way that I wanted.
Mason stayed leaning in, even as I set the kit to the side. He slowly slid his arm across my thigh, until it was his hand that was resting there, and I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest. My eyes flicked back and forth, reading his, and he flicked back-and-forth, reading mine. His breath was fast, his eyes lusty, his desire clear.
His hand slowly caressed my thigh, and I couldn’t suppress the soft sound that bubbled up out of me. He was touching me with intention, with need, and it was everything I thought it might feel like.
I watched as his hand slowly trailed down my leg to my knee, and he gently pushed my legs apart and came to stand in between them. His hands worked their way back up to my hips, and I felt my arms instinctively go around his neck in an attempt to draw him closer to me. His hands worked up over my stomach and he kneaded my breasts through my cami.
I felt like I was suffocating in the best way possible, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to give me the breath I was trying to pull in. Mason’s touch stole my breath away, and I loved every second of it.
I closed my eyes and let my head tip back, and that’s when I felt his delicious lips descend down to my neck. I felt a gush between my legs and I clenched around nothing as his mouth worked its way over my jaw, and then hovered over my lips.
I thought I might explode from the tension, and I let out a small whimper, longing to taste his mouth on mine, and that seemed to push him over the edge and his mouth crashed down onto mine.
His lips were exactly as I had remembered them, but better. They were pillowy and soft, and suddenly his tongue swirled around mine, and I felt my own desperation and desire increase as he claimed me. I’d had my one boyfriend in high school, but this wasn’t anything like that. The way he was touching me, where he was touching me. It was like he knew exactly how to prime me up, to set me up exactly how I needed.
His hands were everywhere, his mouth was everywhere, and I relished being wrapped in Mason Reynolds’ arms, the man I had pined after for ten years.
His mouth stayed on mine, and I heard his zipper. My heart pounded. Would he be rough? Would he be gentle? Would it be big? Would it betoobig? Would I know what to do? All these questions swirled around in my head as his hands slid my shorts down. My center longed to be filled by him and it was about to be.
“Mason, I have to tell you something–” I started, as his thumbs looped through the sides of my panties, but I was cut off by the ding of a security breach on my laptop.
“Fuck.” Mason pulled away, his breathing ragged as he leaned over me on the counter. “You should get that.”
I panted, feeling the energy between us dissipate.
“Mason.” I said, feeling disappointment wash over me.
He took a step back and put his hands behind his head, and nodded toward the room. “Go.”
I looked at him for a moment before regretfully sliding off the counter and over to my laptop.
As I worked, I felt the irritation rise up. I didn’t bother digging into this one. I wrapped it up as quickly as possible in an effort to get back to Mason. I heard the shower turn on, and I slipped back into the bathroom. “Mason?”
The water sloshed against the shower wall, but he said nothing. Finally, the water turned off, and his hand reached out and pulled the towel into the shower. The curtain opened, and he stepped out wrapped in a towel, covered in glistening water droplets. And once again, I felt my center clench around nothing.
His face was cold again, and hard. I fidgeted, not sure what to say. Finally, I reached out and put my hands on his chest, and tilted my head up in an attempt to kiss him again. Mason grabbed both of my wrists against his chest and held me like that for a moment. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, Emma. This is wrong.”
“But you did,” I breathed, “and I wanted you to. I still want you to.” I tried not to sound too desperate, but I pleaded with him, anyway. “Mason, kiss me. Please.” I said it softly, as I could feel my heart breaking at the realization that what had just happened, what wasaboutto happen, was probably over for good.
Mason removed my hands from his chest and slipped around me into the room. I turned towards the mirror and leaned on the counter.
I fought it, but I felt a hot tear slip down my cheek. I suddenly felt so embarrassed, so humiliated, so rejected. I was in my underwear, exposed, and vulnerable, and Mason didn’t want me. I gripped the counter, trying to will myself to not cry, but it came anyway. I felt like the least desirable piece of shit.
