Page 58 of Stolen Moments

With a heavy sigh, I release her and take her small hand in mine, and lead us out the door to what I can only imagine to be an interesting dinner.

Chapter nineteen

Emery

Mason pulls down asmall street in Venice Beach, and I’m a little confused by our location. I visit the Los Angeles area often, but I haven’t explored the city or its sites like I should have.

He clicks the garage door opener as he pulls the car into a short, narrow driveway. The white door lifts, and Mason drives into the small carport.

“Wait here.” Mason kisses my hand.

I watch him climb out and walk around the car, appreciating the way he moves with such grace. I could watch him all day. There’s something erotic in the way his muscles flex that has my thighs clenching in anticipation.

He opens the door and holds out his hand to me. I place my palm in his, gasping at the heat of his touch. Flames lick up my arm, my stomach flips, and I shiver. Pushing the burning desire in my belly down, I step out of the car. The sexual tension between us is palpable as the air around us turns thick and heady. Our reunion has been months in the making. The particles in my body vibrate with excited lust.

It’s clear Mason feels the same.

Neither of us utters a word as we exit the garage and make our way across his small backyard. I attempt to look around, but Mason’s feet move too quickly across the stone-covered space before he leads me into the backdoor of his home. From what I can see,it’s a cute little cottage with an outdoor dining table, six matching chairs, and a surfboard leaning against the siding of his one-story home.

With his phone, he unlocks the door and turns the lights on low before pulling me inside. I glance around, taking in the modern space of his open-concept kitchen/living room.

It’s exactly how I thought it would be. Minimal and warm. It feels like home, with its beautiful cream-colored walls that are adorned with large landscape photography pieces, a rich brown–colored sectional, and a walnut dining table. I love the juxtaposition of the modern interior design to the older, craftsman exterior of his home. The way he’s turned the classic cottage into something modern while keeping its original charm is gorgeous.

“Em.” Mason’s gruff voice cuts through my thoughts, bringing back the heat of the moment.

One of his warm hands lands on my hip while the other wraps around the back of my neck. He tilts my head back, staring into my eyes. My knees shake at the fire in his gaze. The streaks of gold glow and break through the green of his irises. My hands glide up his arms and squeeze his shoulders.

He leans forward his lips inches from mine. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

Drink? Umm, no.

What I really want is for him to carry me to the bedroom and have his way with me. I’ve missed him so much. These past few months have been hard, being without him. I know it seems silly since we only spent one weekend together, but it was the best weekend of my life. I enjoyed our time together, talking and getting to know each other. When I’m with him, he makes me feel special. Seen. He listens attentively when I talk, and while he’s a bit gruff and matter-of-fact, he’s also very sweet and considerate. Even when he’s dominating me in the bedroom, he makes sure my needs come first.

I swear Mason made it his goal to give me three orgasms to his one every time. I’ve never been with anyone like him before. Sex with him is an experience. Together, we are explosive, like a match to a powder keg.

He owns my body—a fact my body is very much aware of. His proximity to me right now has my skin pebbling and my heart racing. Since that kiss in the theater, I’ve been craving his touch. It was hard to sit still at dinner while Chris spoke, and Mason ran his hand up and down my thigh under the table.

“Okay.” Maybe a drink would do me some good and help cool off the heat building between my legs.

Every part of me wants Mason. Now. I want to give him everything I have to offer, and not just physically. It’s a dangerous thought, but I’m more afraid of not giving into him, into us, and regretting it for the rest of my life.

Mason hinges over, throws me over his shoulder, and carries me to the kitchen, quieting my thoughts.

“Mason! What are you doing?” I cry out with a laugh.

“Getting you something to drink.” He shrugs and playfully slaps my ass.

I bite back a moan as my panties flood with arousal.

Mason places me on the kitchen island and spreads my legs wide, standing between my knees. My clit pulses against the tight fabric of my jeans as he pushes me back, and my palms land behind me on the cool marble.

We might not be using words, but our bodies are speaking loud and clear.

I hook a leg around his hip and pull him closer. His hand drifts from my knee up my leg, and he digs his thumb into the tender flesh of my inner thigh as he stops at the juncture of my hip and my pussy.

“Behave, baby doll.”

I drop my leg as Mason steps away and opens the refrigerator. He grabs two bottles of water and places them on the counter besideme before turning his back to me. He pops open a cabinet and pulls out a small glass, and then fills the cup with ice from the dispenser. My skin pebbles at the prospect of him using that ice on my overheated body. He places the glass on the counter and opens my bottle of water, letting it hover over the glass.

---