Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (140 page)

She looked at Mason again. He probably hadn’t participated in that tradition when in school.

Dammit.

She didn’t want him doing it for the first time with Hailey. Or any time with Hailey for that matter. She’d like to think that after what had happened inside Herschfield House he wouldn’t dream of it, but this was Hailey. She had an effect on men, and Mason used to have a huge thing for her. It probably wouldn’t take much for Hailey to get a kiss. Or give one. It was very realistic to think that Hailey would take what she wanted.

Dammit.

“Let’s go Mason. They’re saving a seat for us.” Hailey started to tug him in the direction of the Ferris wheel.

“Can’t do it,” he said, physically extracting her. “I need to take Adrianne home.”

To everyone else it probably didn’t sound suggestive, but Adrianne felt the heat build in her stomach and spread downward. She knew exactly which needs he was talking about.

MASON HAD BEEN resisting the urge to tell Hailey to shut up, but his patience was growing thin.

“I’m pretty sure Adrianne can find her way home with Drew,” Hailey said with a little laugh.

“I don’t care,” he said bluntly. “I’m taking her home. I can see you tomorrow.”

He wouldn’t normally let her get to him, frankly, but he only had a couple more days in Sapphire Falls and he wasn’t sure forty-eight hours was enough to do everything with Adrianne that he wanted to do—even if they didn’t pause for food or sleep. If he closed his eyes right this second, he would be able to conjure every detail of Adrianne’s body, her taste, her smell.

“The project is going to mean so much to the town, Mason. I want to be sure you have all the details.”

Truthfully, Hailey smelled great too. She was the type of woman to smell great. And she was definitely beautiful.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

It was the strangest thing. He’d spent three years of high school believing that she was the essence of the female gender. Now he couldn’t care less. It wasn’t only the fact that she’d been the source of the single worst high school memory he had. It wasn’t about anger or revenge.

It also wasn’t just about Adrianne Scott, though she definitely figured in.

Adrianne was…the only woman he ever wanted to make love to again. And the fact that he’d decided that before making love to her—and within the span of forty-eight hours—was alarming. But he never second-guessed himself.

He didn’t have to. It wasn’t that every single theory he ever had was right or that every factor in everything he did was spot on every time—that was part of science, experimentation, exploration. Trying to get it right was the fun part, the challenge. But eventually his hunches always turned into something. Eventually it all worked out.

Exploring things with Adrianne was going to be a pleasure. For them both.

But this lack of attraction to Hailey was also simple growth.

He’d been out in the world. He’d met other women. He’d had relationships—good and bad. Hailey Conner didn’t do it for him anymore.

“I’m happy to listen, Hailey, but I already told you, I’m not sure it’s the right direction to go.”

And he was giving her one hour. Tops.

“But you don’t—” Hailey started.

“I’ll meet with you tomorrow,” he said firmly.

Hailey didn’t look pleased. It was rare that someone didn’t go along with her, especially a male someone. “Fine. Tomorrow. I’m holding you to that. We’ll do lunch at my house.”

He almost laughed. Hailey Conner was inviting him over to her house. Alone with her. Only the two of them.

She knew that this would feel familiar to him.

The sense of déjà vu was even stronger as he realized that Hailey truly thought this would be like last time, her bedroom, her seductive smile, her slowly undressing…

Good thing he was too damned smart to fall for something like that again. And way too interested in someone else’s bedroom.

“No. I’ll only have time for coffee.” He intended to be very busy—and naked—for most of the hours he had left in town with Adrianne.

Hailey narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute.” She turned her attention to Adrianne. “We’re supposed to be having dinner tonight. Aren’t we?”

“Oh, um—”

Mason turned to look at Adrianne, feeling the tension in her body.

“You and Hailey are having dinner?” he asked, knowing that wasn’t what Hailey was talking about.

“No.” Adrianne said, not looking at him. “You and Hailey.”

He glanced at Hailey, who looked very pleased with herself.

“We are?”

“Yes. Adrianne set it up for us.”

“You did?” he asked with a frown. What the hell?

“Yes. Yesterday.” She looked up at him, but her expression was hard to read. She looked irritated but resigned.

“Well, something’s come up. I won’t be able to make dinner. Right, Adrianne?” he said. She wanted to be with him, she did. He knew it. This had to be more important than the fricking building project.

“We have reservations,” Hailey said, looping her arm through his. “Adrianne had to sweet talk Mrs. Cooper to get us in. With the festival and everything, they’re very busy.”

Mason waited. He was going to trust Adrianne. He was going to let her decide how this went. He knew she didn’t like drama, he knew she liked the path of least resistance, but he also trusted that she wanted him more than she wanted things to be easy.

She’d been protecting him, saving him, whether he needed it or not. She would save him from this, from dinner with Hailey, from Hailey.

He saw her take a deep breath and knew this was tough for her.

“Hailey, Mason’s coming with me,” Adrianne finally said.

Hailey’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

Adrianne met her boss’s eyes. “Mason’s coming home with me tonight. You’ll have to save your conversation for coffee tomorrow.” She took another deep breath. “And don’t schedule coffee too early.”

Then she took his hand, pulled him away from Hailey and started in the direction of Crimson Street.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SEVEN TWELVE CRIMSON was a typical old two-story with a wide porch that ran the length of the front of the house. There were a lot of potted plants hanging and sitting on the railing, a couple of tables and the floor of the porch. There was a swing and a welcome mat. The perfect picture of a home and a far cry from the condo he lived in. He had a doorman, no room for plants or a welcome mat and no yard.

Of course, he wasn’t there much so it didn’t really matter. But looking at the evidence that Adrianne liked to grow things made him think that having his own plants—rather than the ones in the greenhouse at work that were poked, prodded and manipulated constantly—just for the joy of having them might be really nice.

And then there was the three hundred and sixty acre farm he owned. Now there was some space for growing things.

The farm had a really great house too, with a huge porch that would be perfect for a welcome mat and hanging flower baskets. A house that could really be a home. And why not? It had been home to Milt and his large, happy family for more than fifty years. Mason had always felt at home there.

His thoughts were interrupted by Adrianne unlocking the front door.

Neither of them said anything as he followed across the threshold and shut the door behind him.

Before he could speak or reach for her, she walked to the desk and then turned, holding out a pen and notebook. Without a word, he crossed to her and took them. She stepped back and stripped her shirt off.

Heat surged through him and he felt his erection swell.

She wore a simple white silky bra, but he could see her nipples pressing against the cups as if beckoning him.

He knew he had to get the notes down now or never. He flipped the top of the notebook open and began scribbling.

Adrianne reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms before tossing it away.

He swallowed hard and paused in his writing, taking in the sight of her full breasts and the pink centers.

“Keep writing,” she urged.

He glanced, somehow, from her nipples to the notes on the smooth skin of her stomach. He relived the texture and taste of it under his tongue.

“Mason, keep writing.”

He realized his eyes had closed so he took a deep breath and did what she said, somehow making the notes on the paper legible.

Thankfully, it had been a relatively short note and two equations.

As he scribbled, she undid the button and zipper on her shorts and let them drop, leaving her only in the black panties. He swore softly, having to cross out some numbers and start again.

She laughed and moved toward him. “Keep writing.”

He stared at the paper in front of him, concentrating on getting the note down about checking the oxidation rates.

She reached for his belt, undoing the buckle as he completed the notation. Then he tossed the notebook and pen to where her bra lay on the floor as she slid his belt free of the loops. He undid the button and zipper as she ran her hands under the bottom of his shirt, then slid them up, palms against his stomach, chest and shoulders, taking the shirt with her. He whipped it off and tossed it.

“Adrianne,” he groaned when she pressed her lips against his chest. His hands went to her head to hold her there.

She licked and kissed her way across his chest and up to his right shoulder. When her lips and tongue met the side of his neck and she sucked slightly, he dropped his hands to her butt and lifted her up against his hard shaft.

“That’s it. Where’s the bed?” he demanded.

She wrapped her legs around him. “Too far. I’m burning up, Mason. Please.”

“You want it right here? Like this?” A shudder of lust shook him. Sex was generally like everything else in his life—planned out, done with purpose and about results. Not that it wasn’t great. It really was. He was a huge fan. And the women appreciated the results as well. But it was never out of control. Mason didn’t do out of control.

Except that he kind of did. Evidently.

“Yes, now,” she groaned as her breasts rubbed against his bare chest.

He bent and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. There was nothing purposeful about it—it was simply because he couldn’t not taste her.

He was going to take Adrianne Scott absolutely any way she wanted, however she wanted.

“Desk? Wall? Floor?” He managed the series of one-syllable questions as he let his hands slide lower on her ass, his middle fingers slipping under the edges of her panties and up against hot, wet woman.

He’d never done it against a wall or on a desk, or even on the floor for that matter, but all he really cared about was getting inside of her. From there it would all be fine.

She gasped. “Couch.”

He knew the kitchen was to the right, so he turned left. He found the couch and sank down onto it with her straddling his lap. Intending to lay her back, he shifted her slightly, but before he could turn, she reached for and freed his straining erection.

The feel of her hands on him, bare skin to bare skin made him freeze and drag in a long gulp of air. “Adrianne.”

“Oh, I like how this makes you sound.” She encircled his aching flesh with her hand and slid up and down the length.

He tightened his hands on her hips but he couldn’t move otherwise. The sensation of her stroking him was so intense he wanted to shout but couldn’t find the air.

“I love how this feels. How you make me feel. How I want to do everything with you,” she said, continuing to move her hand up and down on him. She pressed her lips to the base of his throat. “I want to ride you. I want you on top and behind.”

He groaned and she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

“And I want to eat ice cream with you,” she went on. “And watch TV and dance and tell jokes…it’s crazy and it’s the most unexpected thing, but I love it.”

Her words nearly overwhelmed him. He’d been with women who talked during sex before, but this was different. There was true emotion in her words, not explicit talk to turn him—or her—on. She wasn’t telling him what she liked or wanted, she was telling him how she felt, how he made her feel, and it was powerful. In typical Adrianne fashion, she was giving him the real her, the nitty gritty, unembellished.

“That you’re here with me like this, that you want me, that you’re letting me do this—” she stroked him again with the perfect pressure, making his eyes cross with lust, “—is so awesome.”

There it was again. That feeling that she really thought he was special, that this was special, that she liked him so much. It was more of an aphrodisiac than anything.

“I need to be inside you, Ad,” he said gruffly. “Lie back.”

“No, like this.” She lifted herself slightly and he felt her hand leave him and then return to roll a condom in place. She did it with remarkable dexterity, and he knew he didn’t want to know how she’d gotten so good at that. Then she pulled her panties to one side and sank back down…taking him deep within her.

The feeling of sliding home, into the sweetest, hottest thing he’d ever felt, was almost too much. He gripped her hips, holding her in place, gritting his teeth. This was where he was supposed to be. The thought was stunning and he needed a moment, a second, to grasp some control so that he could do this right. But the urge to lift his hips, thrust hard and deep, was so compelling that his buttocks flexed in spite of his attempt at restraint.

Adrianne moaned from even that small motion. She leaned forward, dropping her forehead to his shoulder.

The movement made them both groan.

He seemed to fill her completely, stretch her to the point of exquisite pleasure, a perfect fit.

“Yes, Mason, please move. Do something. I need this. Make this…craving go away.”

He knew exactly what she meant. “Okay, honey, hang on tight.” He lifted his hips, thinking there was no room to slide any deeper. But he’d been wrong. To be sure, he pulled out and thrust again.