Page 62 of Fallen Hearts

Grabbing a second glass, I handed him a wine. “I had no idea you liked red wine.”

He took a sip. “There’s a lot about each other we don’t know.”

“True.” I took my own glass and tried to play it cool. Was likely failing. Why did my kitchen seem so much smaller with him in it? Without a word, I headed to the living room and sat on the only couch. Mason sat on the armchair and, unlike me, appeared totally relaxed. Not a care in the world. “So?”

“So,” he said, putting his glass on the table between us. “I want to know more.”

Blinking, I waited to see if he would elaborate.

“I want to know everything there is to know about you. Why do you care about the coffee shop being downstairs as if your ass wouldn’t perfectly fit in my hands no matter how many cinnamon buns you ate.”

Wait a minute. Did he literally just say that?

“Why did you let your asshole boss get the best of you? Why did you really take this job? All of it. But only after I spend the night learning every curve of that luscious body of yours. If you want that too.”

To say I was speechless was an understatement.

“And if you don’t… if you think our positions will make it impossible to explore this thing between us, I will be the picture of propriety.”

I put my wine down.

“Mason, I have no idea what to say. This isn’t at all what I expected.”

He leaned forward, still awfully casual, elbows resting on his knees as if he hadn’t just said he wanted to learn every curve of my body. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“That things didn’t need to be awkward between us. Stuff like that.”

He didn’t say another word. I’d gotten to know him a bit. It was like Mason only had so many words, so he used them carefully. And he’d certainly made his point clear.

The ball was in my court, so to speak. “It’s complicated, for sure.”

“It is,” he said.

“And will likely even get more so if we explore this.”

“Agreed.”

“But you want to anyway? I know the whole boss thing is a monkey wrench for you.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I’m going with my gut on this one.”

“And what does your gut tell you?”

He stood up, closed the space between us and sat on the couch next to me. Reaching out his hand, Mason cupped my cheek. His thumb caressed it, jumbling my thoughts.

“That I’ve never wanted to get to know a woman more than you.”

I swallowed. “Get to know me, as in…?”

“As in, all of it.”

Words escaped me. So instead, I parted my lips in response, knowing already what I would say if speaking were actually possible.

His thumb inched toward my mouth. I opened wider. When his thumb got close enough, I darted my tongue out to touch it. Tease it.

Mason groaned.

I leaned into him, taking his entire thumb into my mouth. And I sucked. Used my tongue to show him what it would be like. What he could look forward to.

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