Just One Spark (12 page)

She had to have him. Now. She wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him down on top of her. Shifting her hips, she almost had him.

He cursed and pulled up, both hands pressing her hips into the mattress. The gleam in his eye told her he wanted it as bad as she did. “I told you not to rush me.”

“I need you inside of me. Now.”

“Me?” He breathed against her ear, still careful to hold her down.

“Yes, you. BOB hasn’t done a thing for me since the first time we were together.”

He reared back. “Bob?”

“Battery Operated Boyfriend, Mason.” She wiggled, but he held her tightly. “You get so jealous. I’m surprised you’d be willing to share even with my vibrator.”

His head hung down. She felt his eyes drinking in her body. “I’m not sharing you with anything.”

“Then why did you bring it?”

“I told you, it’s more of a show then a tell.”

“Then show me.”

“Not yet.” He released her hips but moved to the side before she clutched him with her legs again. He danced his tongue across her body, laving her breasts, tickling her ribs, circling her belly button. He crawled between her legs as he went lower and placed an open-mouthed kiss on her navel, fanning sensations throughout her body. She gripped the bed frame tighter as he spread her legs and rested them on his shoulders. He took each of her outer lips in his mouth and sucked.

He somehow communicated with her responses on a level even she was unaware of. He spread her open and plunged his tongue inside. She tried to move but his body had her anchored below and the handcuffs from above. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but surrender to his ministrations. A surrender she’d never known, never considered. But she’d sort out what it all meant later.

His mouth did things to her she never thought possible. She stopped trying to even pay attention to what he was doing and just gave herself over to the feeling. Whether he was using his tongue, his teeth, his fingers or his breath, she didn’t care as long as he didn’t stop. Trapped as she was, there was no way to even encourage him except with her voice, but the sounds she heard couldn’t be coming from her.

Her whole body tensed as the release began, relaxing her in waves from head to toe. Waves crashed against a rocky shoreline, building and breaking, releasing in a smooth foam that melted into the sand.

From somewhere, she came back down, realizing he’d stopped at some point. She focused on her breathing, trying to bring her heart rate under control so she could hear something over the pounding in her ears.

He pried her fingers from the bed frame. He was going to release her. Wonderful. She’d thank him in a minute, once she caught her breath and found enough energy to open her eyes.

He skimmed his hands over her body, every inch of her sensitized to his touch. Finally, she could move and she pressed herself into his talented hands. Except her hands were still bound. She opened her eyes. “Mason?”

The ceiling spun as he rolled her over as if she were a rag doll. Quickly, he lifted her hips and placed a pillow beneath her. She stared at her fingers as she again grasped the bed frame. She swallowed hard, her throat dry from panting. He skimmed his hands up her legs and kneaded her buttocks. She squeezed her eyes tight as her stomach clenched. Was this what he’d meant by anything?

He spread her legs and the mattress sank where he knelt between them. He slipped his fingers down her swollen slit, making her moan and open herself to him more. She heard a familiar hum and the gears started turning in her brain. She thrashed her head from side-to-side and gripped the bed frame tighter. “No, Mason I want you, just you. Please. Just you.”

Mason lowered his body on hers, pressing her deeper into the mattress. It robbed her of breath before he lifted up, holding his weight off of her. “You’ll have me.” His mouth massaged the tension from her neck, his tongue sending shivers down her spine. The tip of the vibrator slid beneath her, not entering but pulsing insistently against her clit. She sucked in a breath, overcome by the sensation while she was still so sensitive.

Mason placed an open-mouthed kiss on the base of her neck, massaging deeper and deeper. He pulled her hips upwards, opening her further to him. He slid inside in one long smooth motion. Breathing was impossible in the presence of so many wonderful sensations. She trusted her heart to remember to beat. Something about the slow rhythm he set helped her begin to take in air. He pulled out slowly and then thrust into her, filling her to the hilt every time.

The fullness of him and the vibrations from below sandwiched her between two very different kinds of pleasure. It was just too much. Too many sensations came at her from everywhere. Tension built from so many directions. It couldn’t possibly release when it was overwhelming her.

She tried to talk, tried to tell him it was too much, but even sound eluded her. It was all she could do to keep her head above water as the waves hit, crashing against her body from every direction. Her entire body clenched and released with her climax, his rhythm drawing it out longer and longer. Maybe it was possible to die this way. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak and could barely hear primal, feral sounds dying away in the background. And still her body clenched and released, tightened and opened. Continued until all she knew was her own breath.

Chapter Twelve

It must be morning, thought Hannah as she slowly opened her eyes. The room was darkened. Drapes. He must have drapes. She peeked one eye at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Two thirty? He obviously didn’t know how to set a clock.

She opened the other eye. Water. Thank heaven for small favors. She’d never been so thirsty in all her life. She reached for the glass and spied the cuffs dangling from her wrist. Pressing the button on the cuff, she freed herself and shook her head. “Very funny, Mason.”
Where is he anyway?

She gingerly sat, careful not to move her legs too much. The water was gone in two gulps. More, she needed more. And some clothes. She looked down at her bare body. She’d never slept nude in her life.

She scanned the room for something to throw on, but it was clean. He’d even removed the candles that had burned last night. Carefully, she twisted her body so her legs fell off the bed.

As her feet touched the bare floor, she heard papers shuffling in the other room. He was still here. And letting her sleep, which was nice though she’d have rather woken up with him. She tiptoed to the closet and opened it slowly so as not to make any noise.

“You finally up, sleeping beauty?” What was with his hearing
?

“I’m awake.” Her throat was scratchy, her voice throatier than usual. She snagged a T-shirt off a hanger and pulled it over her head.

“Feel better?” he asked from the doorway. The man even made sweat pants look sexy as he stretched his arms over his head and hooked his fingers in the doorjamb. Even with the ache between her legs, she stepped to him and ran her fingers up the muscles she’d yearned to touch last night.

“Hungry?” he asked. The twinkle in his eye made her wonder exactly what he had in mind for the morning.

She nodded, hoping her body was up to playing games with him.

He took her hand, tugged her into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and opened the fridge. She noticed the clock on the microwave behind him. Two thirty five. She hadn’t noticed they were so off last night. “What’s with your clocks?”

“My clocks?” He set an egg carton and some cheese on the counter. “Do you want breakfast or lunch?”

“Breakfast.” She motioned to the microwave. “It says it’s two thirty.”

“Hannah, it
is
two thirty.” He cracked some eggs into a bowl.

Her heart stalled in her chest. She hadn’t slept past ten since college. “What?”

Mason shrugged and started beating the eggs. “You were tired.”

“I don’t sleep until two in the afternoon. Even when I take a sleeping pill. You didn’t slip me something, did you?”

“Incredible.” He grabbed a pan from the pot rack over the sink and turned to the stove.

Her breath quickened. “Did you?”

Mason chuckled, swirling butter in the pan. “Honey, I didn’t slip you anything you didn’t ask for.”

Hannah crossed her arms across her chest. “I didn’t ask to be drugged.”

Eggs sizzled in the pan as he turned and looked down at her. “Now I’m starting to get annoyed. Do you feel drugged?”

“No.” A little sore and thirsty and really hungry now that the aroma of the eggs hit the air, but not drugged or hung over.

He pinned her to the chair with his gaze. “Do you honestly think I would drug you?”

“No.”

He turned his attention back to her breakfast. She felt the color rising from her shoulders to her hairline. She smoothed the tangled mop with her hand, disappointed in herself for even thinking such things. Mason busied himself making tea, pouring juice, anything but looking at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I don’t think, oh hell. I’m just sorry, okay?”

He nodded, still seemingly mesmerized by his culinary abilities. With a sigh, Hannah got up and walked to the bathroom.

She must be a ratty-haired raccoon-eyed mess. She flipped on the light and closed the door. She was stunned by her reflection. She threw open the door and charged at him. “You washed my face.”

Mason backed against the counter and laughed. “You’re welcome?”

She stood on her toes, trying to look him in the eye. “When did you do that? How did you do that?”

He set his hands on her shoulders. “Last night, with a washcloth.” He sat her down in the chair and knelt beside her. “You’re really bad at the morning after. I mean it, really bad.”

His mocking laugh irritated her more. “How did you wash my face without waking me up? I’m a very light sleeper.”

“You were pretty wrung out. I didn’t know if that stuff would hurt your eyes, so I wiped it off. Again, you’re welcome.” He got up, took a plate from the counter and set it in front of her.

“What exactly did you do to me last night?”

He folded into the chair across from her. “Do you need diagrams? Because I could do a flow chart that will blow your mind.”

“This isn’t a joke, Mason. I was just unconscious for the last twelve hours. How am I supposed to feel?”

“Sixteen, and grateful. You were tired.”

She rubbed her hands over her face, trying not to picture him gently washing her face as she slept.

When she looked up, Mason was across the room thumbing through his bookshelf. Hannah huffed and then drained the juice and started in on the eggs. Pepper jack cheese and roasted red peppers. Nothing about Mason made any sense. He was either the perfect man or a sociopath.

Completely paranoid. Was she always like this or had the cards and that jackass ex-boyfriend done this to her recently? He pulled a book from the shelf and thumbed through the pages. She’d trusted him so completely last night. It stung she was so skeptical this morning.

He laid the book open on the coffee table and picked up the magazine he’d been looking at before she’d finally woken up. He’d tried to stay in bed with her this morning so they could wake up together. He’d never expected her to be able to sleep this long. He’d had time to clean the apartment and plan out their trip to New Zealand. He might have actually booked the tickets if the computer weren’t in the bedroom.

He stared blankly at the picture on the page. People climbed into huge plastic balls and ran down hills. It looked like a good time. Would she think so? “Hannah?” He looked up to find her chair empty.

“What?” she asked, coming out of the bathroom, her fingers busy braiding her hair over her shoulder.

He spun the magazine towards her. “Will you do this?”

Her eyes widened as she grabbed the magazine. Her eyes grew even wider as she sat next to him on the couch. “What are they doing? Why would someone want to run around in a giant hamster ball?”

Mason shrugged. “You’ll have to watch me, I guess. I have some other ideas.” He lifted another magazine from the stack. “This is where they filmed Lord of the Rings. Did you like those movies?”

Hannah shook her head. “Never saw them. I don’t have much time for movies.” She waved her hand across the stack of magazines. “What’s this about?”

“While you were sleeping, I went through my magazines and found all the articles about New Zealand. I found some articles on beach resorts. You pick where we stay and I’ll plan what we do.”

Her body turned towards him. “Do you travel a lot?”

“Three or four times a year. I’ve wanted to do New Zealand for a while though. Do you like to travel?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it. It’s a little frivolous, all that money just for one week.”

Mason shrugged. You get what you pay for. “We have to go for at least two weeks. And I’ll pay for it.”

“You’ll take me to New Zealand. Just like that?”

Not really, but after this morning he wasn’t about to tell her what strings were attached. “You’ll love it, I’ll make sure.” He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed for another magazine. She’d never bungee jump.

“Have you done that?” Her hand splayed across the picture of a woman diving from a bridge, only her ankles tethered. The rebound would be amazing.

Mason nodded. “Four times. Will you?”

“Jump off a perfectly good bridge? Not in this lifetime.” She turned to look at him. “Are you an adrenaline junkie?”

Direct and to the point. Deserved the same. “Yes. But I’m not obsessed by it. We can stay at a spa and experiment with just how long you can stay asleep if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.” She reached for a magazine herself but coming up with the book. She gasped and pulled it to her chest. “This is what you did last night.”

“Yes, but that’s not why it’s open there. There’s a paragraph below the picture about how multiple orgasms might cause you to pass out. It’s what I was going for, but I never thought you’d be out all day.”

“That’s what you were going for?” She buried her head in the book and began to flip the pages. “My multiple orgasms was your anything?’

“No, I wanted you to sleep here.
That
was my anything.”

She looked up at him slowly. “I would have done that.”

He watched her eyes move back and forth. She was trying to decide if she really would have. “You weren’t planning to.”

She cast her eyes back at the book. She flipped it around and naked bodies flashed before him. “I thought you were going to do this.”

“Why would I do that?” He closed the book and placed it on the table. “I wanted you to sleep here.” He walked his fingers up her bare leg to where the hem of his shirt rested on her thigh. “I sleep better with you.” She narrowed her eyes and he actually felt her weighing his words. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t win with her. “I want you to stay here, with me.” He rubbed his fingers back and forth across her thigh, waiting for her protests.

“I live downstairs, Mason. You seem to be able to hear everything I do anyway. Besides, I’m going to be at work non-stop for the next week. I’ll be too tired for anything.”

“I’m not asking you to make love with me every night. Just sleep here.”

“Is this about the cards? Because there haven’t been any more.”

“That’s a small part of it. Just stay up here until Kate comes home.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I should stay here when Kate comes home. She and Derek will want some time with their penguins.”

He met her smile. This was good. She was at least considering it.

“I’ll be at work a lot too. You can use any free time to look around and get to know more about me.”

Hannah pulled back. “You want me to snoop? I’m not a snoop.”

She had to be kidding. “Hannah, you took my mail on our first date.”

Every night she spent in Mason’s apartment made it feel more comfortable, safe. The whole place smelled like him, the fridge was full and occasionally the bed was already warm when she got into it at night.

Her apartment had always felt like Kate’s place even after living there for years. In little more than a week, Mason’s place felt like the kind of home she’d always planned on having. Relaxing and unpretentious in a way her home never had been. Hannah reminded herself to be careful as she unzipped her boots and made her way to the bathroom. A girl could get used to this.

He wouldn’t be home tonight. She’d learned what he meant about the job scaring her. A few days ago, he’d snuck into bed thinking she was already asleep. He’d taken a shower to try to hide the day, but she’d still smelled the smoke in his hair.

He’d played it off as if it was a joke. But in her mind she imagined a made-for-television five-alarm blaze. Making love to him that night had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Slow and simple and completely terrifying. He’d fallen asleep holding her almost immediately after. She’d held on to him all night, wondering if he’d felt the change. She couldn’t even pretend she was just having sex with him anymore.

She was falling for him. A long fall that would have her crashing at the bottom when he tired of their sexual one-upmanship. Which he was still winning. She needed an edge.

Hannah surveyed the bookshelf. Where was that sex manual? If she found a dog-eared page she’d finally have an edge over him.

Books for work and the ones he was using to study for his exam lined the top shelf. Hardback best sellers were on next. The paperbacks he read were in his nightstand. Political thrillers he’d called them when she came home and found him reading in bed. Photo albums were on the third shelf and a bunch of magazines on the bottom. With the sex manual on top. Finally.

She stooped down to pick up the book and then paused. Had he just been teasing her about snooping, or did he really want her to? She ran her fingers across the mismatched photo albums. If a picture was worth a thousand words…

It would certainly serve him right. She hadn’t looked through his things at all in the week she’d been staying here. Usually, she walked through the door, washed her face and was asleep within ten minutes.

But tomorrow was Thanksgiving, so she could sleep in. She wasn’t expected at Molly’s until lunchtime, wouldn’t see Mason until he met her there at eight to go to his parent’s house together. Her stomach knotted at the thought. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight.

She’d look through the pictures to make sure nothing surprised her tomorrow. Look out for a two-headed aunt or something. Maybe see if she could find out where he got those eyes.

She curled up on the couch with an album of travel photos. He’d been almost everywhere. And from the looks of it, with quite a few women. It didn’t surprise her, but it stung. One day she’d wind up as nothing more than a snapshot tucked into an album.

With a sigh, she rose and grabbed the last two albums before sinking back on the couch. Fire training dominated another album. He’d told her he’d fought forest fires during the summers in college, but the pictures made it all too real. She slammed the album shut halfway through. She’d have to look at that one someday when he wasn’t at work.

An eight-by-ten of a beautiful brown-eyed baby girl stared out from the front page of the final album. Hannah smiled, immediately recognizing Ryan’s nose. This must be Rianna. Sure enough the following pages were a testament to the McNally family devotion to the next generation. Anyone holding Rianna in the snapshots was smiling. There was one of Derek holding her at arm’s length because she was covered in spaghetti. One of Ryan with his face and her hands covered in finger paint. Mike having a tea party wearing a tiara and one of an older woman who must be their mother brushing Rianna’s long blonde hair. A child would be so blessed to be part of this family.