Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,21
everyone who will listen—especially to all the women at the country club? That girl is shooting for the Mason family trifecta or whatever it would be called with five people.”
He laughs. “You mean four because Wade isn’t gonna fuck her.”
I laugh too because he’s right. Wade’s not going to get a piece of that because Wade doesn’t get a piece of anybody. If Oliver and I are workaholics, Wade is whatever the next level of that is because no matter how busy Ollie and I get, we do our own versions of dating. Wade does not.
“I’m not fucking her, either,” I say, wrinkling my nose at the thought of banging Daphne Monroe. “I guess trifecta works, after all.”
I flip the card into the palm of my hand and rub my thumb across Blaire’s name.
Maybe I should just stick it in the mail or have someone run it over to the Landry’s.
The raised, gold letters spelling her name prickle against my skin. I can’t help but remember how she felt against me last night. But as I think back, I realize the best part wasn’t the curve of her waist or the way she fit so perfectly around my cock.
The absolute best part was watching her choose to cede control—to let me have my way. It was a deliberate, calculated decision, and there’s something inherently sexier about it than when a woman just rolls over for me.
Fuck.
“What are you doing today, anyway?” Boone asks.
“Going over Wade’s plans again. You?”
“Not sure. I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do—go watch golf with Oliver and Gramps.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to waste your time.” I pull the phone away from my face and see an incoming call. “Hey, Boone. I gotta go. I have a call I gotta take.”
“Sure, man. Later.”
“Bye.” I waste no time in clicking over to the other line. “Hello?”
“Hello, Holt.”
My heartbeat quickens at the sound of Blaire’s smooth, sweet voice.
I sink back into my seat. My shoulders soften against the leather as I take a moment and listen to her breathe.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to call,” I say finally.
“To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t going to.”
A grin plays on my lips. I toss her credit card onto my desk, and it skids into my keyboard before it stops. “May I ask why not?”
“I just thought things would be better if we left things between us in the hotel room.”
At the mention of things being left behind, my hand slides into my pants pocket. The lacy fabric slips between my fingers as I imagine her arching a brow in a quiet challenge.
Challenge accepted.
“Like your panties?” I tease.
She coughs in surprise before recovering quickly. “I was thinking more along the lines of not making our encounter awkward or complicated.”
“We aren’t wild animals, Miss Gibson. We didn’t have an encounter.”
“You know what I mean.”
I lean forward, my forearms resting against the desktop. My cock twitches as memories of our encounter flash before my eyes.
I grin.
“Yes, I do know what you mean. What you mean is that we fucked.”
My breath halts in my chest as I await her reaction. The phrase hangs in the air between us. It’s a quick recap of our night together, but at the same time, it’s an impossible-to-ignore statement that quietly demands a response.
“We did indeed,” she says carefully.
“I don’t know about you,” I say, my gaze focused on the sky outside the window, “but the word awkward isn’t one I would use to describe last night.”
“I’m glad to hear that you have a broad vocabulary, Mr. Mason.”
A grin slips across my lips. “My mother always touted the benefits of a good lexicon.”
“A woman after my heart.”
She takes in a quick breath. The air pulls across the phone, and even though I’m not in the room with her, it feels like I am. I can envision her lips parting, her eyes narrowing with a slight twinkle.
“My mama is the best,” I say. “Hands-down. She raised five boys and most of us are pretty well-behaved.”
“Well, my mother was a gem. She raised me and three boys, and none of us are particularly well-behaved,” she says, ending with a laugh.
“Sounds like we’d get along just fine.”
“I can see you and Lance being friends, actually. He’s a history teacher and wicked smart, but he can drink you under the table. Machlan would poke at you and see if you’d fight—bonus points if you would,” she says. “Walker, though … he’d side-eye you until he decided whether