The Soul Mate Page 16

“Maybe not car stuff,” I said. “You ever watch Jane the Virgin? That’s a pretty funny show.”

“No, what’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl who accidentally gets pregnant and—” I heard myself, then stopped. “You know what? That one is probably a bad idea too.”

He laughed. “Maybe we should just talk.” He patted the seat beside him on the sofa, and I could feel his gaze raking over me, surveying me. He knew, of course, what was underneath my clothes. He’d already seen me—all of me.

So why did I still feel so exposed? Because baring my body was far easier than stripping away the curtain to my soul.

Joining him on the couch, I crossed my legs if only to dull the ache that rose inside me at the smell of his spicy-sweet cologne. “What do you want to talk about now?” I asked.

“You. Always you,” he said.

I grabbed a nearby throw pillow and hugged it close. “Well, not much to say there. You know where I work and my favorite childhood toy. That’s about all of it.”

He laughed, then moved a little closer, so close that his arm brushed against mine. “Do you date much? Any serious relationships you want to rehash? Bad blind dates, maybe? Tinder horror stories?”

“Well…” I thought hard about my answer. What I did technically couldn’t be called dating. Unless, of course, he counted my long-term, committed relationship with my friendly bedside vibrator. If that were the case, I’d bet at this point I could petition for common law marriage.

“Not quite,” I said.

“So before me, the last guy was?”

“Years ago,” I confessed, averting my gaze.

“I wondered,” he murmured.

“Something about me just screams cat lady?” I joked.

“No.” He shook his head. “You were…I could tell.”

“How could you tell?” I narrowed my eyes, wondering what in the hell he meant. That I was so inexperienced and rusty it gave me away? White hot annoyance crept up my spine and landed on the back of my neck. Maybe I’d just discovered a minor flaw marring his perfect resume.

“Honestly? You were just so tight,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve been wondering ever since then if it was because you hadn’t been with anyone for a while, or if maybe you always feel that way. So wet and warm and—”

There was no denying the surge of need building between my thighs now, and my breath caught as I met his gaze. “I-I don’t know.”

His eyes went dark and his jaw tensed.

“Only one way to find out,” he said.

Chapter Fourteen


I should have said no.

I will be the first person to admit that, when propositioned by my potential baby daddy, the answer should have been unequivocal and sure.


No thank you.

Not again.

But that answer, of course, didn’t factor in the way he looked at me—the way his blue eyes raked over my skin like he was touching it already, laving it with his tongue and readying me for his thick, hard cock.

I licked my bottom lip, trying to work up the discipline to stop this freight train of lust before it left the station. Still, if I slept with him again, maybe it really would put all my worries to rest. That night could have been amazing simply because it had been so long for me. What could it hurt to put my assumptions to rest? Yeah, right. It could hurt me.

Now, after I’d already been sated by him once, there was no way his body could have the same effect. No, this time would be a tepid bath compared to the hot, steamy whirlpool that the last time had been.

Which meant giving it a try could only be a good thing.

I struggled to breathe in the heavy silence, and then Mason finally spoke.

“Let’s take things slow. We won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

I nodded. Slow. That was a good idea. And one I could get behind.

He inched closer on the couch, lowering his mouth toward my neck.

“Just want to touch you,” he murmured. His full lips brushed my collarbone, making me shiver.

Trailing soft kisses up my neck, my jawline, Mason finally brought his mouth to mine.

Our lips met in a hungry kiss, our bodies remembering every touch, every breath with perfect clarity.

“No pressure, okay?” Mason whispered, encouragingly against my lips.

I nodded, gripping the back of his neck to draw him in for another kiss.

Soon his hand slid up my thigh, only stopping when he brushed the front of my panties. My knees parted for him on instinct.

He stroked the front of my dampened panties, finding the spot that made me squirm.

“More,” I groaned.

“I knew I liked you,” he chuckled against my mouth.

Slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, Mason penetrated me, slowly.

“You’re not tender, are you?” he whispered.

“Damn it, Mason. Don’t treat me like I’m…”

“Pregnant?” he supplied.

My answering frown implored him in a wordless request not to destroy the mood.

“Duly noted.”

Adding a second finger, he pressed deeper, making me cry out. Damn, the man was skilled, but something gnawed at the back of my brain. I wanted this, I did, it was just that…if we weren’t careful, I could easily see myself losing my head. And what if I wasn’t pregnant? This is exactly what had gotten me into this pickle in the first place.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I mumbled, pulling back to put several inches of space between us. “This isn’t slow.”

“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “No, I guess it’s not.”

Mason looked down at my swollen lips, touching me there with his fingertips. “How’s this? No sex. But we both get to come.”

I was nodding before my brain even processed my agreement. “I like how you compromise.” I liked a lot of things about him, I was finding out. But in my heart, I already knew. Because if I didn’t really like him, I wouldn’t want to run away from him every time a new wave of unwelcome emotion flowed over me.

He lifted my calf, planting my foot beside me on the couch so that my legs were open for him. “Don’t move. I want you just like this.” Slipping his fingers past the edge of my panties, he stroked just where I needed him. My entire body clenched and squeezed, wanting so much more, but already dangerously close to falling over the edge.

Mason brought his mouth to mine once again, kissing me deeply while his fingers did very naughty things.

I struggled to get his pants open, fumbling with the button. When he knocked my hands away, I couldn’t help the soft, happy noise that escaped me.

He freed himself, stroking once. The bead of moisture at his tip distracted me in the most wonderful way.

“You going to look at it all night, or are you going to touch me?” he groaned.

Taking my hand in his, he guided it to his cock.

I took him into my hand and stroked gently at first, then harder. He dropped his head back against the couch and allowed me to have my way with him, every now and then letting out a little grunt of approval.

I’d thought that first night he seemed so big only because it had been so long since I’d been with someone—and even longer since I’d wanted someone so much. Now, though? Looking at him again? I knew I’d been wrong. He was thick and long and throbbing for me.

“Need you to touch me,” I moaned.

“Fuck yes.”

His fingers were back at work, and within moments I was writhing beneath his touch.

“Going to come,” I murmured.

“Not yet you’re not.” He slowed his pace, teasing my swollen flesh as I rocked my hips into his touch, vying for more attention. “Together,” he whispered, kissing my lips again. “Grip me a little tighter.”

I obeyed.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Fuck.”

He was so sexy like this, so masculine. I loved how bossy he was during sex. How vocal.

Still kissing me, Mason returned his attention to my lady bits, making white light spark behind my eyelids.

“I’m so close,” I whispered against the onslaught of his kisses.

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