a date. The Caislean Hotel was a highly rated luxury chain, or so she’d learned after her stay there. She would never have been able to afford a room on her own. It was only natural she would want to repay him in some fashion. Or at least that was what she kept telling herself. But her pulse insisted on racing, replaying the moment she’d made a fool of herself on a loop.
Groaning, she scrubbed her face with her hands. After a minute, she dragged herself into activity, forcing herself to put her things away before turning off her floor lamps.
Drops were pelting the small window above her bed with increasing force and frequency. Judging from the sound, the rain was turning into a deluge.
I guess Mason doesn’t need an excuse to cancel that run. And it had to have been an excuse…
Laila groaned again, rubbing her fingers over her heart. C’mon, this is ridiculous. It wasn’t aching. Not literally. This was a purely psychosomatic response.
At least now she knew for sure. If Mason had been interested in her, he would have taken her up on her dinner offer. He hadn’t—case closed.
Laila changed out of her damp uniform, pulling on a dry tank top and leggings. Planning to go to bed early, she didn’t bother with a bra.
Heavy-hearted, she forced herself to fix some dinner, but a quick quesadilla was all she could manage. She’d just turned off the burner on her stove when there was a knock on the door. Mr. Tran was angling for leftovers from the bakery again, she’d bet.
Sighing, Laila picked up the bag holding a day-old cinnamon roll. She opened the door without looking through the peephole.
Mason stood on the other side. And he was wet, soaked to the skin with his blond hair plastered to his head.
Laila only had a few seconds to register his presence, and she spent most of it ogling his chest—every taut muscle visible through his now-transparent white t-shirt. He reached out, pulling her to him with enough force for her breasts to make an audible slap against his chest.
“D-did you lock yourself out?” she asked, stuttering slightly.
Mason shook his head firmly. Still holding her tight against his chest, he started walking them into her apartment. Then he kicked the door closed.
Startled and aroused, Laila stared up at him, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t have uttered a word to save her life…but Mason wasn’t holding her this close for the sake of conversation.
They stared at each for an endless minute. She counted a million heartbeats before his mouth came down on hers. The first touch was a feather-soft brush, a gentle swipe of his lower lip before pressing heavier and hotter.
Whimpering, Laila rubbed her chest against his. She didn’t care that her thin top was being soaked through because the friction was the most pleasurable sensation she’d ever felt.
Then Mason’s hands moved down her back, cupping her rear. He lifted her with sudden urgency, guiding her legs around his waist. Spinning her around, he pressed her against the door as his lips teased hers apart.
Half in denial that this was happening, Laila clutched Mason’s shoulders, trying to catalog every sensation for posterity. But the minute his questing tongue slipped inside her mouth, her thoughts splintered. Mint and honey exploded across her senses. One taste, and she was lost.
Mason growled something against her mouth, but she couldn’t make out the words. Not that she needed to hear to understand what he wanted. His grip on her thighs flexed, lifting her higher until she rubbed against his hard length. Her leggings were no protection since his heat bled through the thin material. She shuddered, her core spasming involuntarily.
Heartbeat thrumming in time with her quickened breaths, Laila clenched her inner thighs, climbing Mason like a tree.
His breath grew ragged in response. Shifting to support her weight with one arm, he used his free hand to pull the straps of her tank top, tugging them down until they hit her elbows.
Cool air hit her exposed breasts, making her gasp. Nipples hardening, she tried to tug the top the rest of the way down, but Mason stopped her. His right hand caught the cloth against at her lower back. Wrapping the material around his fist, he used it to restrain her arms at her sides.
The feeling of being bound and helpless in Mason’s arms damn near made her pass out.
“Please,” she rasped. Laila didn’t care that she was begging.