Page 27 of Love, Clumsily
“Everything about you is sexy,” he insisted, rising from the couch and approaching with the fluid grace he displayed when he wasn’t overthinking his movements. “Your eyebrows, your fingers when you’re typing, the little crease between your eyes when you’re frustrated…”
He reached the table and leaned over me from behind, his large hands braced on either side of my laptop, effectively caging me in. His body radiated heat, and I could feel his breath on my neck as he spoke.
“The way you smell when you’re focused,” he continued, his voice dropping lower. “All determination and creativity, with just a hint of frustration. It’s intoxicating.”
“Mason,” I warned, though I couldn’t stop myself from leaning back into his solid presence. “I have a deadline.”
“Mmm,” he acknowledged, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. “How much longer?”
I shivered at the contact. “An hour. Maybe less if you let me concentrate.”
“I can wait an hour,” he murmured, though his actions suggested otherwise as his teeth grazed my earlobe. “Or I could provide some… motivation to finish faster.”
His hand slid from the table to my thigh, large and warm through my jeans. My body responded immediately, despite my best efforts to focus on work.
“That’s not motivation,” I pointed out, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “That’s distraction.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “How about a deal? You finish your work, and then I’ll show you exactly what I’ve been thinking about while watching you.”
The promise in his voice sent heat pooling low in my belly. “What have you been thinking about?” I couldn’t help asking.
His hand moved higher on my thigh, fingers tracing patterns that made my breath catch. “About how beautiful you look when you’re focused. About the faces you’ll make when I’m inside you. About how you taste when you’re desperate for me.”
“Jesus, Mason,” I breathed, my work forgotten as I turned in my chair to face him.
He straightened slightly, looking down at me with eyes that had darkened to burnt amber. “Finish your work,” he said, suddenly stepping back. “I’ll be good. For now.”
The abrupt loss of contact left me momentarily disoriented. “That’s… not fair.”
“All’s fair in love and motivation,” he replied with a wicked grin, returning to the couch and picking up his book. “Clock’s ticking, designer boy.”
I turned back to my laptop, trying to refocus on the website layout but hyperaware of Mason’s presence across the room. This was a familiar game between us—him distracting me, me pretending to be annoyed but secretly enjoying it. The anticipation he’d built would make finishing work both more difficult and more rewarding.
Somehow, I managed to complete the project in record time, sending it off to the client with a brief email that I hoped made sense despite my distracted state.
“Done,” I announced, closing my laptop with more force than necessary. “Your turn to deliver on your promise.”
Mason set his book aside, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light that sent a thrill through me. “Come here,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
I rose from the chair and crossed to the couch, anticipation building with each step. Before I could sit beside him, he reached out, catching my wrist and pulling me onto his lap so I straddled his thighs.
“Better,” he murmured, his hands settling on my hips. “Now I can see your face properly.”
I braced my hands on his broad shoulders, enjoying the position of subtle dominance despite our size difference. “You really do have a thing for my facial expressions, don’t you?”
“Among other things,” he confirmed, his thumbs slipping beneath my t-shirt to stroke the skin above my waistband. “I love watching you react. Seeing pleasure take over. Knowing I’m the one causing it.”
His words, combined with the gentle pressure of his hands, sent a shiver through me. “What else do you love?” I asked, my voice dropping to match his intimate tone.
A slow smile spread across his face. “I love the sounds you make when I touch you just right,” he said, demonstrating by sliding one hand up my back, nails dragging lightly along my spine. I couldn’t suppress a small gasp, proving his point.
“I love the way you smell when you’re aroused,” he continued, leaning forward to nuzzle at my neck, inhaling deeply. “Like sunshine and need and mine.”
His possessive tone made my heart race. Three months into our relationship, and the intensity of his desire still took my breath away.
“I love how responsive you are,” he murmured against my skin, his hands now fully under my shirt, exploring the contours of my back and sides. “How you can’t hide what you’re feeling from me.”
As if to demonstrate, he rolled his hips upward, the hard length of him pressing against me through our clothes. I couldn’tstop the moan that escaped me, my body instinctively grinding down to meet him.
