Misunderstanding Mason (12 page)

Mason’s mouth
caught hers and forbade all hope of a quick retreat. His hands settled at her
waist, fingers curling tight into her skin.

Repay the
favor—right.

Kirstin
surrendered to the slow perusal of his mouth, the warm velvet of his tongue as
it traced her lower lip. Her pulse ratcheted up by several degrees, and she
gripped his waist hard to keep from stumbling.

Mason.

She parted
her lips, hesitantly touched the tip of her tongue to his. Shockwaves coursed
through her, and Kirstin drew back in a gasp. Mason’s firm grip on her waist
kept her from topping backwards in her high heels. A low chuckle rumbled in his
throat. She glanced up at his intense blue eyes, their surroundings slowly
sinking into her awareness. Heat crept into her cheeks, a subtle flush that
mirrored the self-conscious way his lop-sided grin twitched at one corner.

Relaxing his
fingers, he held her loosely until she gained her balance. Then, he bent to her
ear, his voice low and intimate. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

God, yes, it
did. So good she’d completely forgotten they blocked the middle of the doorway
into the banquet hall. All she’d intended was a chaste brush. A peck, no more.
But damn, two weeks away from Mason, and evidently, she’d lost all ability to
control herself.

With a brief
nod of affirmation, Kirstin eased out of Mason’s hands. His fingers caught
hers, a pleasant grasp that warmed her from palm to shoulder. Acting on its
own, her body gravitated toward his.

Hand in hand,
they walked across the wide dining hall, savoring the silence that lay between
them, even as the noise of the room became engulfing. This was how it had been
the first time they strolled through this ballroom. Mason too wrapped up in
nerves to speak, she too self-conscious to know what to say. Back then, they’d
had different reasons to fall into quiet. Tonight, Mason’s hands didn’t shake
in hers, and she no longer waded through a room of complete strangers. The
silence had become comfortable.

“You hungry?”
he asked as they approached the head table.

“Not really.”

Mason came to
a dead stop, and his gaze crept toward the polished dance floor where a handful
of couples danced to smooth jazz. “You want to dance?”

Kirstin
blinked. “What? Mason, you don’t dance.”

Didn’t dance
put it nicely. Mason’s two left feet were identical twins to hers.

His eyes
lighted with mischief. “Neither do you.”

“So why would
you even ask? I mean, I’m all for entertainment, but I’d rather not be the main
event.”

Slowly,
deliberately, his appreciative gaze skimmed along the length of her body. Her
skin heated where those icy blues lingered, warming her from the outside in.
Arousal skittered through her veins, laced into her blood. She knew that look.
Knew it by heart. And she knew exactly where it led. Primal, animal instinct
rose to answer the suggestion behind his eyes, and moisture gathered between
her legs.

Mason stepped
closer, the toe of his dress shoe between her high heels, his thigh brushing
the soft folds of her gown. “If we move real slow, no one will notice.”

Chills raced
down Kirstin’s spine. She was flirting with danger. Something far more deadly
than standard TNT. That close to Mason? Touching in all the places they
shouldn’t, forbidden by a sea of his peers and coworkers to let it go to their
heads?

“Okay.” The
breathless whisper escaped before she could swallow it down.

He led her to
the far side of the dance floor before she could remember all the reasons this
was a bad idea, and his strong arms encircled her waist. Taking time to enjoy
the hard lines of his upper body, she slid her hands up his jacket lapels to
his shoulders. One gentle tug, and Mason aligned her body with his. Her breasts
pressed against his chest. Where their abdomens touched, silk slid across her
skin.

Heaven.

Kirstin
sighed in contentment.

But as Mason
took a shuffle step to the cadence of the music, she became aware of far more
than just the comfort of his protective embrace. The hand that held her close
at the small of her back pressed even closer. He splayed his fingers, dipped
one beneath the loose fabric, and stroked the hollow of her spine. Where their
hips joined, the long hard length of him brushed against her moistened feminine
flesh.

Kirstin’s
senses reeled at the shocking, intimate caress. It was all she could do to not
dig her nails into Mason’s shoulders just to stay on her feet. A shudder rolled
through her.

“Mason,” she
whispered into the starched fabric of his shirt.

“Shh.”
Dropping his hand a fraction, he bent her body into his and supported her in
his arms.

****

Mason’s world
spun on a sideways axis. He didn’t know how long he and Kirstin had been
shuffling in a circle, moving to the slow rhythm and blues. But his body was
tighter than glass and every bit as fragile. One well placed tap, and he’d
shatter into pieces.

Good thing
he’d chosen the far side of the dance floor where the chandeliers cast shadows
on the inlaid wood and observant eyes couldn’t witness their seductive dance.
They were hardly moving now, the sweet pain of touching having brought them
both to the edge. It took all his self-control to not fist his hands into her
bottom and thrust into her high and hard. To keep the tenseness in his muscles
from making him so stiff he couldn’t move at all. He couldn’t touch her the way
he wanted, couldn’t make a hasty exit. Nor could he bring himself to lead her
off the dance floor and separate himself from the soft press of her gentle
curves. And though frustrating to the point of agony, it was the most erotic
encounter he’d ever known.

That Kirstin
shared his barely-tempered desire made it even more so.

One hand
pressed flat over his hammering heart, her head lay against his chest. Her
breath came out in short, acute gasps that mirrored the sharp breaths he
struggled to pull in.

He moved
again, deliberately stroking himself against her sensitive feminine nub, and
Kirstin shuddered in his arms. Ever so slightly, her nails pinched into his
pectoral. Torment and bliss—he couldn’t separate them any longer. Christ, he
was making love to her in front of everyone, and he hadn’t removed a single stitch
of clothing.

Mason tucked
his cheek against her hair and whispered, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking
about you.”

The languid
melody of her voice told him she’d reached that point where logic and reason
couldn’t interfere and words came from that place he understood. That place
where they were lovers and nothing had ever come between them. He nuzzled her
hair, hoping he wouldn’t do too much damage to the loosely piled locks. “What
about me?”

“Mmm.”
Kirstin pressed her hips forward and rubbed against his throbbing cock. “How
much I want to make love to you.”

Shuffling so
his back was to the long line of tables and hers faced the nearby wall, he
covered the hand atop his heart with his own. He gave her fingers a little
squeeze. “We are.”

“No, not like
that.” She let out a soft husky laugh. “This is teasing. I can’t…you know…let
go.”

Drawn to the
sweet curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, he dipped his head and
pressed his mouth to her skin. “Sure you can. I’m the only one who’ll know.” Encouraging
her, he shifted his hips for more direct stimulation.

This time,
Kirstin’s fingernails did bite into his chest. From his peripheral vision, he
caught the way her teeth sank into her lower lip. Five years of memorizing
Kirstin’s responses told him she was barely hanging on to her control.

“You’re
almost there already, baby,” he whispered against her shoulder. He could go on
like this a good while yet, but the time for his speech was approaching, and
the part of him that delighted in her pleasure urged him to push her all the
way.

Using the
music to his advantage, he coordinated the push of his hips with the bluesy
rhythm and laced his fingers through hers. “Close your eyes,” he murmured as he
settled his cheek against her hair again. “Imagine the way it feels when I
slide in and out of you. My skin against yours.”

She shuddered
again, and her hand clenched around his.

“How it feels
when I’m buried deep.” Guiding her closer with pressure on the small of her
back, he coaxed her to indulge in sweet release. “The heat of my tongue sliding
through your flesh.”

His voice did
its own damage to his mind as visions of his suggestions flashed behind his
eyes. Maybe this hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had, because he
wasn’t entirely certain he would make it off the dance floor without doing
something that would embarrass them both. Nevertheless, the forbidden idea of
Kirstin orgasming in front of everyone, with only the two of them sharing the
secret, spurred him on.

He shifted
his hips again, and Kirstin clung to his hand. Behind her clenched teeth, a
barely audible whimper broke free. Mason’s cock pulsed at the telltale sign
that she’d sailed over the edge into bliss. He took a deep breath, held it
while he willed his body to wait. Time suspended, the music soaked into his
bones.

When Kirstin
went limp in his arms and she rubbed her cheek against his chest with a soft
smile, Mason stepped back a fraction, creating some very necessary space
between their bodies. Still, he made no attempt to escort her from the dance
floor. She liked to revel in the languid aftermath of climax. He wouldn’t deny
her that simple peace, even if Don’s voice rumbled over the microphone,
signaling dinner had transformed into the formal announcement of Gamesquare’s
newest launch.

Besides, he
held a particular fondness for the memory of how it felt to lay in her arms,
spent and exhausted, slowly descending from the heights of mutual ecstasy.

Chapter
Eleven

Like a leaf
drifting on a lazy autumn breeze, Kirstin floated back into her body from that
magical place only Mason and she knew existed. The dying notes of a sensual
saxophone melted into Don’s rumbling bass and the unsteady rhythm of Mason’s
heart beneath her ear. She tipped her face up to give him a smile. “That was so
wrong.”

His chuckle
reverberated against her cheek. “Yeah, but it was damned fun.”

Mmm. Yes, it
was. Too bad she couldn’t have given him the same exquisite pleasure.

“Are you
hungry yet? I think it’s dessert time.”

On cue, her
stomach rumbled.

“Guess that
answers that.” Mason dipped his head and dusted a light kiss across her cheek
before he slid his hands off her body and clasped her by the hand.

Kirstin
quickly checked the front of her gown, subtly gave her panties a tug, then fell
into step behind him. A giggle inched its way up her throat. Who’d known a
Gamesquare launch could turn into an erotic paradise?

Understanding
her humor, Mason gave her hand a squeeze. It occurred to her then, just how
well he could read her. Times like this, and in the car, it was like they
shared the same brain wave. Other times—the ones she felt were most
important—they resided on different planets. Not Venus and Mars—those were too
close together. Try Mercury and Pluto.

Alien and
Terrestrial.

As she and
Mason took their chairs at the table, the waiter appeared at her side.
“Champagne, miss? Wine, perhaps?” He set a dessert menu in front of her.
“Dessert?”

“I’ll take a
glass of champagne, and…” She quickly scanned the six-item list. “A chocolate
caramel bar.”

Mason shot
her a sexy grin, glanced over the top of her head and said, “I’ll have the
same.”

As the waiter
disappeared, Kirstin dipped her hand beneath the table and set it on Mason’s
leg. She playfully tickled the inside of his knee, tuning her attention to
Don’s perfunctory speech.

“…ten years
of gaming success through three international markets, we’ve had the good
fortune to become a leader in advanced techniques, unequivocal artistic design,
and rapid technological advances.”

From the
corner of her eye, Kirstin studied Mason, a slow pleasurable burn settling into
her blood. Five years ago, he’d been begging for opportunity, barely surviving
with a small, inventive, but little known private gaming corporation. Through
countless hours of dedication and a sheer obsession with achieving his dreams,
he’d caught Don’s attention at a convention in LA two and a half years ago. A
week later, he was at the bottom of Gamesquare’s totem pole, a contractor hired
only for side work that no one else cared to do.

Now, he was
their lead designer. The first man they approached for their major pushes. He
passed piddly work to grunts who held his former position, and most startling,
he’d worked his way into Don’s heart.

Kirstin knew
nothing but pride when it came to Mason. She might have been his sacrifice, but
he’d worked hard to make a name for himself. A name people throughout the
industry recognized.