Mason growls and yanks me toward him, the low thrumming in my ears drowning out everything else. I nip his lower lip, and he makes another sound that goes straight to my core. Abruptly, he hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he carries me over to the armchair and sets me down.
His eyes are dark with hunger when he pulls back to look at me. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to talk,” I tell him, pausing to pull my shirt over my head. “I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “You might want to think this through.”
I unhook my bra and let my breasts spill forward, and Mason raises an eyebrow. “No, I told you, I don’t want to think. I just want you. Right here. Right now.”
Mason purses his lips together. “Not like this.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
Mason’s fingers move to the buttons of his shirt. In a few quick moves, the shirt falls to the floor with a flutter. Wordlessly, he walks backward, his eyes never leaving my face. Then he turns the lock with a click.
“I realize we should’ve had this conversation a little earlier, but I was thinking of other things at the time.”
I give him a blank look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Why isn’t he kissing me?
Why isn’t he drowning out the vicious voice in the back of my head reminding me of all the ways I’ve failed?
Why does he have to choose now, of all times, to have a conversation?
“Boundaries. A safe word,” Mason says. “If we’re going to keep doing this, you need to feel safe.”
I stand up and clear my throat. “I do. I trust you. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Mason’s eyes drift over me, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. “I want to keep that trust because even if you do….the dynamics are different now.”
I blink. “Okay.”
This isn’t how I pictured standing half-naked in Mason’s study.
I’m supposed to be bent over a desk or a chair, all thoughts of being a failure being driven from my head with each thrust, kiss, and touch.
I don’t know why he’s choosing now to be considerate, but I’m still touched.
I know it isn’t easy for Mason to let people in, to relinquish some control, and to see it firsthand makes me fall for him a little more.
I love seeing snippets of the kind and thoughtful man behind the mask, the kind few other people get to see.
Maybe you haven’t screwed up so badly after all.
Mason crosses over to me and stops an inch away. “I’m going to fuck you, London. Make no mistake about that, but when we do, I want you to completely give yourself over to me.”
“I’m doing that now,” I argue, my fingers moving to trace his chest. I stop at the waistband of his pants and look up. “What do you need me to say?”
Mason pulls me against him. “I don’t need you to say anything. You need to know you can say no. You can refuse things.”
I search his face. “You’re serious about this?”
Mason quirks an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I sigh and link my fingers behind his neck. “Okay, I’ll tell you if there’s something I’m not comfortable doing.”
“And if it’s too much.”
