Mason says, “This looks like a good place to stop for today.”
“Already?” I say, even though my brain feels like sludge. But I don’t want him to think I can’t do it.
“Now you get to practice. I usually give my clients three or four weeks between sessions.”
“That long?” The question pops out before I can stop it. He can’t go yet.
“She needs time for the behaviors to cement themselves. Sometimes correcting one issue brings another one to light, so you don’t want to move on to the next too quickly or it all falls apart like a house of cards.” He grabs his coat where it’s hung by the door. “Of course, if you have any problems, you can always text.”
“Or call.”
Mason turns, silver-gray eyes briefly confused. “What?”
“You said it’s faster to call. In your voicemail. The other day. I...” My words trail off. My timing never seems to be right with him.
But he smiles. “Yeah. You can call.”
And somehow, that feels better. Not so isolated, even though I have no reason to place my emotional well-being in the hands of this man.
“Great. I’ll see you—” I reach for the doorknob to let him out at the same time he does. We both freeze, knuckles barely touching. His hands are like the rest of him. Strong and tanned. If I turn mine just a little, I could brush my fingers just inside his palm. And that means, if I turned my head a little more, I might even be able to kiss him.
But of course, I’m not going to do that. Because there are boundaries, and this isn’t a rom-com where stuff like that happens.
“I’ll see you—” I try again, but this time the words stop when Mason’s lips touch mine. For a second, I wonder if the exhaustion means I’ve already forgotten the bit where Mason left and now I’m dreaming what-ifs on the couch—no doubt while Athena finds something new to destroy—but the fact that I’m asking those questions in at least a semi-rational way means I’m still awake and this is actually happening.
He’s a gentleman, I’ll give him that much. The kiss has all the control of a polite good-night at the end of the first date. It’s nice, and if he walks out the door and we never talk again, it will still be a pretty good memory.
Mason pulls his head back just a bit, but he leaves his hand on my cheek. We stare at each other. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me. His brow is furrowed as his gaze flicks over my face. His thumb strokes my skin, just beneath my eye. I push into his touch then farther, until our lips meet again, and this time he’s not so much of a gentleman. His mouth opens, tongue pushing, seeking entrance, and when I don’t open fast enough, he tips my chin up, making me gasp, then claims the space in my mouth he wants.
I groan, making a noise I haven’t made in months. Years, even. There’s something so exciting about kissing someone new. Especially someone you’re as attracted to as I am to Mason.
There’s not much room in my front hall on most days, and less when two grown men are in it. Mason turns me until my back hits the wall, letting go of my face to grab hold of my hips. My whole body tries to move at once, hands scrambling for something to hold on to, while my feet move restlessly, unsure if I want to stand on my toes or wrap one leg around Mason and hold him against me. Finally, he makes the decision for me, pressing his thigh between my legs, and I grind against him unashamedly.
“Yeah.” Mason drags his tongue along my throat. “Do you want more?”
Nerves prickle at the question. When Gavin and I got together, it was the first time either of us had been with someone kinky. We dove into our relationship and the lifestyle like prize pupils. We went to parties, we did research, we tried everything.
But toward the end, when Gavin asked me if I wanted to play, the question always felt loaded, mostly because more often than not, the answer was no, because I didn’t like the things that he liked, but I also didn’t want to let him down. Not after so many years. So I said yes instead, and we were both left frustrated and unsatisfied, even after the orgasms were over.
“Are you asking in general or in a kinky kind of way?”
He laughs against my lips. “You’re very direct.”
“Well, you put up a sign at Bold Brew. I thought maybe...I just...Can you answer the question?”
Mason grins. “I’m kinky. But it’s okay if you’re not. We don’t—”
“No, I am,” I say in a rush, and his smile grows, showing white teeth that I desperately want to feel on my skin.
I nearly come in my pants when he nips at my chin.
“You’re like a firework just waiting to go off.” He presses his hips against mine, and we rub our growing erections against each other. No sense in pretending I’m not turned on. Just nervous about how much he might want.
“Peppermint schnapps,” I say.
“Excuse me?” He’s got his hands halfway up the inside of my shirt.
“My safe word is peppermint schnapps.”
