The crash of my release is harder this time, more wrecking as my sex clenches around his hardness, pulling him impossibly deeper.
Another low groan rumbles through him, his fingers tightening against my skin just before he stills above me. The pulsing feel of his cock sends me higher, making me shift against him, wanting to extend the moment just a little longer.
As he comes, his lips press hard to mine and then he pulls back, finding his control again before skimming his lips over mine. A heavy breath falls from his lips as he kisses me slowly over and over again, each time more gentle than the last. He pulls away, leaning his temple against mine. When I peer up into Mason’s eyes, there’s a sated look of desire and sin in his dark gaze. He’s always been attractive, but he’s never looked as dangerously sexy as he does right now.
Twenty-Six
Things that Go Bump in the Night
My eyes open to darkness,finding only a few hours have passed. Mason’s smooth chest is against my fingertips as he holds me against him. I turn, expecting Jameson, but find the other white pillow unoccupied.
An odd feeling tangles in my stomach as I realize he’s not here.
In his own room.
Quietly, I pull myself away from Mason. Dark eyes peer up at me as I stand naked at the side of the bed. He sits up for a moment, fully alert but barely awake.
“Come back to bed,” he whispers, his gaze slowly trailing down my body.
“I’ll be right back.” I touch his hand and his fingers tangle with mine before I slip away.
The shirt on the floor is nearly pushed beneath the bed and I grab it before I walk away, pulling it on just as I open the door.
The house is a fortress of silence, there’s not one sound as I trail down the cold stairs. White light shines in through the enormous windows, slashing across the tile floors in the entrance.
I peek into the living room to find the television still on, flashing light against Jameson’s smooth features. He looks impossibly younger when he’s asleep. His boyish smile isn’t in place and a look of peace is there.
I force myself to walk away from him and I force myself not to wonder why he never came to bed with me.
In just a few quick steps, I make my way into the kitchen.
A thin stream of clear water fills the cup and my focus remains there for so long the glass nearly overflows. I turn the faucet off and take a long drink of the cool water. It’s late and not a soul should be awake at this hour. And yet, here I am.
My lower back meets the counter and I stare around at the dark kitchen. Gleaming appliances and glossy countertops shine in the moonlight. Everything here is expensive and perfect. It doesn’t feel like a home. I certainly don’t feel at home here. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that feeling in my entire life.
Until recently, I didn’t think I ever would. I’m just now starting to think it’s possible. A quieter life is possible. There’s more exciting things in life than fighting and killing and surviving.
Like love.
I swallow hard as I really consider that statement. I don’t know what love feels like. Not really. But I know what it feels like to care about someone now.
I care about them.
Even Rory.
I think ...
The kitchen door swings open, wafting an announcing sound. Rory’s broad shoulders fill the doorway and he doesn’t dare take another step into the room. He stands staring at me and my innocent glass of water as if I was down here plotting his death.
“I think the kitchen’s big enough for the both of us.” I take a casual sip of my water, but he doesn’t seem too convinced of my motives here.
He might never trust me. Especially when we’re alone. He’s always assessing my next move. I swear, I set out to murder him one time and he still won’t forgive and forget.
His gaze darts to the rack of knives sitting neatly near the stove before trailing back to me, standing in my fucking jammies. I must look like a real threat right now. I cock a brow at his blatant thoughts.
He really thinks I’d murder him with a steak knife?
How insulting.
