Page 73 of Unromance

Spending the night or getting a second nightstand might not seem like a big deal, but Mason knew, for Sawyer, it might be the grandest gesture of all. With the right person, the most ordinary moments became grand.

If he weren’t already lying down, he’d swoon.

Pressing a kiss into her hair, he’d never felt so content. It took all of his self-control not to tell her how much he loved her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MULTIPLE ORGASMS– Well, it wouldn’t be a fantasy if the sex were bad, would it?

Sawyer awoke to the sounds of Mason’s slow, steady breathing.

She never spent the night—not since Sadie, not even the chef she’d had a brief thing with, who’d come over at the end of his shifts, well after midnight, and leave at three in the morning, when she kicked him out after they were done.

But she hadn’t wanted last night to end. Though, judging by the darkness outside Mason’s bedroom window, it was still night—or early morning. God, she’d spent the night and hadn’t even had sex. Who was she?

She still felt full, but in a different way, like she could barely breathe there was so much emotion clogging her throat. It was a little disconcerting, how quickly it had rushed in. Like it had been waiting in the wings, and as soon as she’d opened the door to the possibility that this thing with Mason could be more, there was no way of doing it halfway. Even if he was leaving soon. She shoved that thought aside, sinking back against Mason’s chest. He stirred, his arm around her coming up, his hand sliding beneath her shirt, trailing a slow path between her breasts, across her stomach, over her hips, and down her thighs.

She’d only slept for a few hours at most, and it was the best sleepshe’d had in a long time. Rolling over to face him, she trapped his roaming hand between her thighs. “Yes, Mason?”

Mason grinned, bashfully nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow, one eye cracking open. “Sawyer.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as he brought his forehead to rest against hers. She loved the way he said her name. There was an intimacy to it, as if it were more than just a name, and in those two syllables he’d managed to express a novel’s worth of emotion.

She slipped her hand around his waist, guiding him on top of her, sighing as he put some of his weight on her, pressing her into the mattress. She licked her lips, her tongue wetting both hers and his. She sucked in a breath. “Sorry,” she mumbled automatically, her lips brushing against his as they formed the words.

“I’m not.”

A whimper got stuck in her throat, and his attention darted down at the small sound that managed to escape. He grazed his mouth over hers, testing. “Is this what you woke me up for?”

“Yes,” she breathed, not even bothering to argue that she was fairly certain he’d woken her up. It didn’t matter. Her hand at his jaw traveled up, twirling the hair that curled above his ears before burying her fingers in his hair, her nails scraping across his scalp.

“You want this?”

Her hand stilled, meeting his gaze. They’d done this before. They’d done all of it before, but he was still asking for her permission as she was dragging him on top of her. She also knew he wasn’t just talking about sex. She meant to say yes but what came out was “Do you?” He’d rebuffed her before, and he wouldn’t be the first person to decide she wasn’t worth the effort.

Mason cupped her face, gently pushing her bangs back out of her eyes. “Yes,” he all but growled. “I think about this—you—all the time.”

“Me, too.” She expected him to pounce at that, but he stayed just out of reach, his eyes boring into hers, like he was waiting for something. What else did he need? A goddamn formal invitation?

Dear Mr. Álvarez-West,

You are cordially invited to fuck me into the next century, starting now.

Please RSVP at my convenience, which is also now.

xoxo,

Sawyer

“Mason,” she warned. “If you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to develop a complex.”

He grinned against her mouth, nibbling affectionately on her bottom lip. Her fingers in his hair tightened their grip, and he groaned. Leaning in, she longed to capture the sound in her mouth, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. He kissed her like he was starved. As if they hadn’t spent all of last night kissing, as if last night were a half-remembered dream and that if they didn’t break this kiss, then they could stay in it forever.

The first time they had sex, she’d been bossy, impatient, telling him where to touch her and how. Now, however, she was content to move at the pace Mason set. His hands wandered slowly, gently squeezing and teasing as his teeth scraped over her bottom lip, along her jawline, her earlobe, gently sucking on her pulse point. He moved with a concentrated intensity that she had no desire to interrupt, letting him consume her. Her hands roamed the broad planes of hisback, her nails scraping slightly and leaving trails of goose bumps in their wake.

Guiding him fully on top of her, he settled between her legs like a warm, weighted blanket. Outside the window, snow swirled lazily in the early dawn light, and the world was quiet save for the sound of rustling bedsheets.

His fingers danced along her side, tickling her rib cage. She arched up, trying to guide his hand where she wanted it, but their chests were pressed flush against each other, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull back from him even a fraction. She squirmed beneath him, equal parts impatient and never wanting this to stop.

---