I lost my courage.
Heneedsto know. His family has done nothing but welcome me in and I’ve repaid their kindness by giving important information to the utter waste of flesh that is my father.
I’m pacing through the greenhouse. I’d cautiously brought some of the prettiest flowered plants into Mason’s spotless, rigidly ordered house. Two in the kitchen on the windowsill. Which made Davina very happy. A beautiful Christmas cactus that chose July to bloom with vivid red and white flowers on the hall table. One on the window seat in our bedroom. I got bold and put three in front of the floor to ceiling Gothic-style windows in the living room to catch the sun. Yet the greenhouse is where I feel most at home. It’s messy, dirt scattered from the pots and lots of wet spots on the floor from my sloppy attempts at watering.
Maybe that’s all my father wants. Lucia is safe.
“I’m not that naive,” I tell a big pot of peonies, fluffy and pink and flashy. “He’s never going to stop pushing me. Threatening Lucia. Can I make up realistic-sounding information and string him along until I can get Lucia out of there?”
Part of me is fighting a surge of fury at Mom and Sam. I knew my mother would always back down from a fight, but I could see how angry Sam was on my wedding day. Surely he wouldn’t let Dad do that to her?
“Who are you talking to, my bonnie wife?”
Mason strolls into the greenhouse, already looking mildly perturbed at the tangle of green vines and rose petals scattered on the floor.
“Oh, just the peonies,” I shrug. “They’re very good listeners.”
“I see.” He’s taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his crisp white shirt. His thick, muscled forearms are like kryptonite to me, especially with all those vivid tattoos. “I gave Davina the day off and sent out Vincent to pick up dinner. You mentioned a craving for proper fish and chips yesterday.”
“You remembered that?” The little glow in my chest is quickly doused by my guilt. I don’t deserve fish and chips.
Tell him, you idiot!
“I remember everything you tell me, wife.” His phone buzzes and he glances down, frowning. “I must leave for a meeting, I’m sorry. This client just messaged and he’s only in town tonight.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I understand.”
Coward.
He looks up, brow raised. “You sound eager to get rid of me, darling. Are you up to some mischief? Sneaking more plants into the house while my back is turned?”
“I know they’re a little messy but they look pretty, right?”
He captures my chin in his hand, leaning down to kiss me thoroughly. He smells so good. Sharp like winter and the forest, and under it all, he smells like us. The fact that my fastidious husband didn’t shower after railing me like an animal on his desk is deeply satisfying.
“Do you have any homework for Uni, any final papers?” He hasn’t moved away, his lips still on mine, sharing my breath.
“No, I’m done for the year. I’m just going to eat piping hot fish and chips and indulge in my lowbrow couch potato sensibilities.”
Mason inhales deep, like he’s memorizing my scent. “You smell far more delicious than the takeaway. Relax and have dinner. I’ll eat mine later.” The look he gives me makes it clear he’s not talking about the fish and chips.
“Okay.” I rise, gripping his shoulders and surprising myself as I initiate a kiss. He seems to like it, crushing me against him for a moment before stepping back with a sigh, and I follow him into the kitchen.
“My departure is going to be awkward,” he says, rolling down his sleeves and shrugging on his suit jacket. He buttons it, but his erection is extremely noticeable.
“I’m sorry.” I put my hand over my mouth, trying to smother my giggle.
In a blur, he has me up against the kitchen wall, hand on my throat and his mouth on mine. “You are not sorry, you bad lass. Not in the slightest.”
Now that I’m trembling and weak-kneed and my guilt is rapidly being overcome by lust,now, he walks out the door.
***
Mason…
Leaving Afton is more difficult than I expected. She’s standing under the overhead kitchen lights and her hair is lit up with a thousand colors, brown, blonde, a bit of red. The thought of gripping a handful of her thick hair and moving her head to where I want it is incredibly arousing.
My dick, which was finally taking the hint and going down, thickens again at the image. Irritably holding my briefcase in front of the obvious bulge in my pants, I get in the car.
