Veiled Desire (4 page)

“Fuck.”

The short, graphic word looked erotic on his full lips. She caught her breath.

“Do you object to the word or the context?”

“The-the context.”

His lips quirked. “I’ll keep that in mind. I apologize. I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

“I’m not your sister,” she blurted out.

“I know that. I’ve known that for a while. The question is, do you know it?”

“Yes.” She realized at that moment that her slightly damp hands were flat against his chest.

His naked, hard, hot chest.

Leyla had never touched him so intimately. Hugs, pecks on the cheek, pats on the back; that was it. The way she’d been raised, males and females who were platonic friends didn’t touch each other inappropriately. Mason knew and respected that.

She couldn’t look at his face. Instead, she studied her hands, so small against the wide expanse of his chest. Her one hand curved over his developed pec. She only had to move just a smidgeon to scrape the nail of her pinky over his nipple.

Then he was growling, a low rumbling noise, using his tight grip on her hips to pull her closer and crowd her against the counter. He shoved one hand into her hair, tilted her head and lowered his lips to hers.

All she could think was that she no longer needed to wonder if he desired her. He didn’t bother with an exploratory foray or gentle teasing. He kissed her as if they’d been kissing for years, as if he had an absolute right to her lips and her mouth. It was hot and carnal, his mouth open on hers, his tongue stroking against hers and inside. When she twined her arms around his neck and sank into him, he made a rough noise and captured the zipper on her hoodie. One quick tug had it undone, and then it was like her shirt just magically undid itself of its buttons for him as well. He pushed it to the side with rough impatience until her breast filled his hand.

When he pinched her nipple, Leyla figured she was pretty much done for. Her breasts were sensitive, but Mason touched her with just the perfect amount of pressure. She arched her back and whimpered into his mouth. God, she wanted more.

He ripped his mouth away and studied her with hot eyes. She knew what she would see if she glanced down at herself right then. Tousled hair, unbuttoned top, her right breast plumped up by his hand, her nipple long and tight. She didn’t want to look down at herself. The reality would force her brain back into action. There was a certain comfort and simplicity in letting one’s vagina do the talking. “Mason, please…”

Slashes of red crested Mason’s high cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful.” He dipped his head, pulling her nipple into the wet cavern of his mouth.

If she’d thought that Mason knew how to touch a nipple, that was nothing compared to how well he could suck one. He was a freakin’ maestro of the nipple, suckling hard and fast, teasing her with light flicks of his tongue. She looked down at his blond head against her skin. Instantly, doubts and worries crept into her mind. She shut her eyes and they faded. She didn’t want to think. Just feel.

He drew away from her nipple. “One day, I want to spend just an hour or two sucking your breasts. Will you let me do that?”

What was a girl supposed to say to that? Yes please? She nodded, since she really couldn’t think of anything she’d rather have at that moment.

“Good.” He flicked his nail against the wet tip of her breast and she shuddered. His eyes narrowed. “Are you close? Already?”

“Mason, I need…”

“Don’t worry. I know.”

His hands were on her ass and he was hoisting her up, and the room was spinning around her until she was sitting, straddling Mason’s lap. He’d sat on the kitchen chair. “Put your legs around my waist.”

She obeyed, more than a little mindlessly, and then realized that they were as good as having sex. If it weren’t for the barriers of their thin pants, he would be inside her. His rock-hard erection nestled perfectly into the notch of her sex. She could feel every inch.

Those damn doubts threatened to rise to the surface, but they subsided when Mason pressed a series of hot kisses on her neck. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “I won’t come. You need it though. Let me do this for you.”

Well, hell, when he put it that way, who was she to disagree?

Yeah, you’re like a high school senior rationalizing that oral sex isn’t real sex. Come on.

His hands gripped her ass tighter and he ground her against him. They both groaned, and he stopped, motionless. A trickle of sweat worked its way down his brow. He opened his eyes, his blue gaze lasering into her. “You move too. Show me what you like. Rub against me.”

The challenge was inescapable. With the urging of his hands, she started to ride him. He wouldn’t allow her to look away, to hide, and oddly enough while she was gazing in his eyes, those doubts and fears didn’t come anywhere near her brain.

He leaned down to suckle at her nipple again, one hand coming up to tease the other one, and then he switched breasts. The deep pulls echoed the pulls in her vagina, and she rode his erection until her stomach contracted and she shuddered through an orgasm.

She stilled on his lap, well aware that she had just given her oldest friend a lap dance. Usually though, it wasn’t the dancers who were left satisfied.

Heat rose off Mason’s body. He tilted his head back, and looked for all the world like he was in severe pain. She’d believe it if he was. “Mason, do you want to…?”

He breathed a rough sigh and then opened his eyes. “Yes, of course I do. But frankly, I’m sick of jerking off when it comes to you. Next time I come, I’m coming inside you.”

Well, that was quite blunt and to the point, now wasn’t it? “You masturbate to thoughts of me?”

He buttoned her pajama shirt before she could bat his gentle hands away. “Baby, there should be no doubt in your head now as to how much I want you. I want you enough to not come when you’re dry humping me topless.”

Convoluted, but yes, she got the point. With shaking fingers, she zipped up her sweatshirt. Her breasts were still swollen and did not appreciate the extra layer, but tough cookies. “I want you too.”

“I’m so happy. You have no idea.” His smile was brilliant, and he leaned in to give her a light kiss on her lips, drawing away before it could get too intense. “Tonight, Leyla. I want you to think of this as a date. You and me. Together.”

She opened her mouth but no sound emerged. Her body was screaming yes, but her brain…argh. He seemed to understand because he gave her a rough smile. “Don’t worry. No pressure, I swear. It’s just that…I’m not going to pretend anymore. Just so you know.”

A seductive Mason, and there would be no illusions for her to hide behind? No pressure, her ass.

“Do you need to get to work?”

Startled, she looked at the clock on his microwave. “Oh my God. I barely have time to shower!” She dismounted less than gracefully from his lap. Her legs were wobbly and Mason steadied her as she stood. “Thanks. For breakfast. Not for the…” She waved her hand and flushed. “Well, yes, for that too, but that wasn’t what my original…”

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “I get it. Shoo.” He followed her to the door. Before she could leave, he kissed her again, a quick hard press of her lips meant to show desire and possessiveness. She allowed it, because, hey, she was human. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Be ready.”

“And we are…done.”

Leyla looked across the satin- and silk-strewn store at where her assistant manager, Junie, had flung herself dramatically across the back of the door. “Until the next holiday.”

“We got nothing ’til Christmas now, you know that. It’s not like there’s a rush for Labor Day garter belts.”

Leyla grinned. “It ended kind of early. I thought we’d go later. It’s barely five.”

“Maybe men have started to learn their lesson about shopping early. We still had record sales this year, didn’t we?”

“Yup.” Satisfaction coursed through her. In the three years she’d managed the small independent store, she’d turned their numbers around. A salary bump was in her future.

Pert, cute and vivacious, with a mop of blonde curls that always looked like they were vibrating with motion, Junie sauntered over to lean on the counter. “So it’s early yet. Any plans tonight? If not, you want to come over and cry into a pint of Chunky Monkey, I’m game.”

Leyla finished organizing the receipts and stapled them together. Throughout the hectic day, she’d managed to push thoughts of Mason out of her mind, but now they crept through her, insidious and seductive. “Actually…I’m going out with Mason.”

“Oh, cute. Are you, like, doing a single’s protest against the holiday?”

She glanced up, and their two-year friendship must have been enough for Junie to read the truth on her face. Junie squealed. “Oh my God! Are you two going out, out?”

Leyla brushed a speck of lint off the counter. “I think so.”

“I don’t care if you have time or not. You are so telling me this story.”

Normally, she wasn’t a fan of sharing her deepest secrets with her girlfriends, but she was so conflicted she welcomed the opportunity to unburden herself. Leyla leaned over the counter and recounted the morning’s events, glossing over the lap dance, of course.

“He kissed you on Valentine’s Day morning? After making you your favorite breakfast? Oh, girl, I am so jealous. Is this awfully sudden for you? Are you freaking out?”

“Not about the desire,” she admitted. “I’ve wanted him for a while.”

“And now he wants you! This is perfect. No. It’s not. Why the frowny face?”

“Because…that’s all he said. That he wants me. Nothing else.”

“You think he just wants a few good rolls in the sack?”

“Maybe.”

“Would that be so bad?”

She stared at Junie. “Yes. That would be terrible.”

“Why?”

“Seriously? Because the only other person I’ve known longer than Mason is my brother. And there’s that relationship to consider.” Not to mention that Sasha would have trouble accepting any man into her life. She’d spent her entire life being a good role model for him, but she’d gone overboard. He’d been okay with her fiancée all those years ago, but she’d been single for a while now. He had gotten used to the idea of her as some celibate motherly creature. To find out that she was involved with his best friend…well, she couldn’t imagine he would take it with a careless shrug.

“You think too much, Leyla.”

“I know. It’s my curse. I’ve never had a one-night stand. I don’t think I could handle having one with Mason.”

“Have you ever slept with anyone?”

She fought the blush rising in her cheeks. She rarely spoke with anyone about her sex life. “Yes. But he was a man I was fairly serious about.” She’d been engaged for a few years following her parents’ death. The relationship had petered out, and they’d had an amicable parting.

“Aww, Leyla.”

She hated the look on Junie’s face, an odd mix of pity and confusion. This was another reason she didn’t like to talk to people about her sex life. Pride stiffened her spine. “I realize that a thirty-one-year-old woman who has only had one lover is a bit of an oddity in this day and age, but I just haven’t really needed it.”

“Well, obviously. I mean, if you’d wanted it, you probably could have found it pretty quickly.” Junie gave her a cheeky smile. “Do you need it now?”

“With Mason?”

Junie nodded.

“It’s so complicated—”

“Forget the complication. What about the bedroom?”

“Yes,” she admitted. She wanted him the way she wanted triple-chocolate cheesecake. With a whole lot of guilt and anticipation.

“Do you love him?”

“I’ve loved him since we were kids.”

“Not like a sister. Do you love the man he is today?”

Leyla hesitated, unable to voice the resounding affirmative in her head. “Possibly.”

“Then if I were you…I’d take him.”

“But what if it was only for one night?”

“Then you’ll have had the one night, wouldn’t you? Sometimes you just have to live in the moment. Forget the past or the future, just live in the now.” Junie shrugged her delicate shoulders. “But I think if a woman wants something bad enough, she should be strong enough to take it.”

Leyla studied her friend, a bit disturbed. If she didn’t take Mason, then was she not strong enough? Or did she not want him enough?

Junie’s lips twitched. “Enough deep talk. You need to get your tush home. But first…what are you going to wear?”

Well, he’d said to be ready. She was ready.

The dress was far shorter than what she normally wore, hitting just above the knee. Snug, strapless, made of a silky material, the cobalt fabric hugged her trim figure and pushed her breasts up, so it looked like she had a lot more to work with than she really did.

Leyla pressed the unzipped dress to her chest and studied her image in the mirror. The blue of the fabric perfectly matched his eyes. Had she known when she bought it that she would wear it for him? Subconsciously, had she been thinking of Mason?

She had a little stash at the back of her closet filled with clothes she had bought but never worn. Sexy, revealing outfits that had been impulse buys she’d never felt comfortable enough to wear in public.

Leyla contorted to find the zipper behind her and gave it a good jerk. It came up halfway.

The doorbell rang just as she was ready to curse with frustration. Damn it, for once in his life, why couldn’t Mason be late?

Not that she had a lot left to do to get ready, except zip her dress and slip on her shoes, but still. She’d wanted a good ten minutes to psych herself up. Looked like that was out.

She huffed a breath when the doorbell rang again and grabbed her robe, walking toward the door while slipping her arms into the sleeves and belting it around her waist.

When she opened it, she had no choice but to smile. She’d seen Mason in a suit before, but tonight he looked his best in a black jacket and slacks, a whimsical red-and-pink-striped tie his concession to the holiday. He surveyed her and pursed his lips. “I probably should have told you about the dress code.”

She laughed and touched the lapel of the robe. “Is faded terrycloth not haute couture? I missed that memo.”

He smiled and extended his arm. She’d been so busy looking at him she’d completely passed by the wrapped roses in his hand. “For you.”

“Oh, Mason, thank you.” She accepted them and buried her face in the fragrant white petals for a second. Then she stepped aside and allowed him in, feeling a bit shy. He’d been inside her tiny house so many times, but not like this, as a suitor instead of just a friend. When he crossed over the threshold, it seemed symbolic somehow. Fanciful, but that was how she felt.

She went into the kitchen to fill a vase with some water. Without opening the wrap, she carefully placed the rose stems inside. “I’m having trouble with the zipper on my dress. Let me just get it up somehow and we can go.”

“I can help.”

He could, couldn’t he? Her breath caught. So this was part of it, part of the dance. She could say no and establish a boundary, or she could say yes and…

Before she could come up with any reason for him not to, she nodded and walked over to him, turning her back to him and untying the robe. He smoothed the terry over her shoulders and tossed it aside toward the couch.

For a second, there was silence behind her. She held the dress close to her breasts. “Is there a problem?”

Mason cleared his throat. “No.”

She expected him to zip up the fabric then. Instead, she felt the feather-light touch of his finger sliding down the open V of her dress, leaving goose bumps in its wake, until it rested right at the base of her spine. “You’re not wearing a bra,” he said hoarsely.

That was blunt. “The lines. The dress is so snug, it would have ruined it.”

It was so quiet, Leyla could hear the steady drip drip of her leaky faucet. She’d just admitted she wasn’t wearing a bra and deliberately led him to wonder about what else she might have dispensed with.

No past. No future. Just tonight. Can you handle that?

His finger stroked back up her spine, each inch corresponding to some new erogenous zone. Then down, down, down, until he reached the tab of her zipper. He pulled it up oh so slowly and rested his hands on her shoulders. The soft, open-mouthed kiss on her neck startled her, but it felt so nice she relaxed against his front and tilted her head back to allow him greater access. He nibbled his way around, and then placed his hands directly over her abdomen, rubbing in gentle circles. “I really like this dress.”

She lay against him. Just tonight. “I can tell.”

He licked the pulse where it beat at the base of her throat. One hand slid over her hip to her thigh, gathering the skirt of her dress upward. His palm was hot when it met her naked leg. His fingers tightened on her flesh.

For an instant, she imagined the picture they must make, him large and blond, her small and dark. They would look good together. The sex would be amazing, and she was due for a good strong bout of sex. Her body would be fulfilled tomorrow morning. But her heart. Would her heart be whole?

Just…

“No.”

His hand froze. She shook her head, her voice becoming stronger. “No.” With a twist, she was free of his grasp, and she spun around to face him.

Unguarded hurt flashed across his face. He masked it quickly with an inscrutable expression. “I’m so sorry, Leyla. I thought…”

“No. Please.” She shook her head. “Please don’t say anything. Let me talk. I tried really hard to do this. I know how this is supposed to go.”

“How what’s supposed to go?”

She started to pace and threw him a disgruntled look. “Quiet. You want to have sex with me, don’t you?”

He didn’t speak, only stared at her.

“Yes or no?”

“Can I speak?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. But I—”

“Uh-uh. Okay, then. I want to have sex with you too. You’re very attractive, but you know that.”

Mason opened his mouth, but no sound emerged, so Leyla continued. “I tried to do this. I know the script. We go to a dinner on a night which is made for couples, then we lose our heads, live in the moment and have wild sex. Tomorrow, one or both of us misunderstands or regrets something, and then we’ll have to deal with the misery of knowing we’ve sabotaged both our friendship and your relationship with my brother.

“I just can’t do that. I tried, I really did, to live just thinking of tonight, but I can’t. I’m not capable of ignoring all the what-ifs. So I need to know, before we leave this apartment and before you start doing nice things to my neck, quite simply…what are your intentions, Mason?” She wondered if her words sounded as silly and stupid to him as they did to her ears.

Mason blinked. Then a slow smile worked its way across his face, turning into a full-fledged grin. Leyla braced her knees for those devastating dimples.

“You are one of a kind.”

“I know I’m weird. I should be able to have sex with you just because that’s what an empowered woman would do—take her pleasure where she wants it. Maybe I’m not empowered, maybe I’m not strong. Maybe I am just a slave to convention.”

“Leyla,” he said, his tone mild.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and come here. My arms are feeling empty.”

Tears stung her eyes. When he’d been grieving over his father, she’d said the same thing to him more than once.

Without looking at his face, she walked into his familiar arms. He folded her close. When she tried to keep her face from touching him to avoid makeup transfer, he pressed a firm hand against her neck. “Baby, you think I don’t know you yet? I won’t deny it, my first thought was to seduce you tonight, but I had no intention of either of us having second thoughts in the morning. I can honestly tell you that my intentions are completely pure.”

He paused. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to just fall into bed with me.”

“’Cause I’m weird.” Her voice was muffled.

He laughed softly. “No. I love your beliefs. I love that you’re willing to stand behind them. You, not strong? I can’t believe you would think that. Having sex with a man doesn’t prove your strength. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

She turned her head to the side. “I’m going to be honest. I want you bad, and I may not really have been able to stay self-righteous for long. If you’d pressed the issue this morning, I probably wouldn’t have left your bedroom all day.”

“That’s what you think. I don’t want to fuck you, Leyla, I want to make love to you. Even if we did end up in bed tonight, and I’m not saying we will, I’m not budging tomorrow morning. I want a relationship.”

Her heart soared. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He stroked his hands through her loose hair. “What about you?”

“I think I’d like to try it.” Suddenly she was filled with optimism, with excitement. Granted, if they dated and it ended badly, there would be fallout, but she knew with all of her heart if they didn’t try, she’d regret it for her life. A thought occurred to her, the fly in the ointment, so to speak, and she frowned. “What about my brother?”

“I don’t want to fuck him, either.”

She gave a watery laugh. “I’m serious. You know he’ll have a coronary. As far as he’s concerned, I don’t know where babies come from yet. His first instinct will be to shoot you. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have to look far for a gun, either.”

Mason sighed. “How about we worry about Sasha when we have to? The last thing I want to do is hurt a man I love like a brother. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give us up. I’m crazy in love with you. We’ll work everything out, don’t worry.”

She froze at his words. “I can’t believe you’re telling me you love me right before our first official date.”

“What can I say? We’re clearly going to be one of those couples who does everything out of order.”