Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2) (29 page)

“I never told you. Maybe that was a mistake on my part, but it was mine to make. I hate the concept of virginity. It’s built around the belief that a man sticking his penis inside a woman changes her forever. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with you. Do you have any idea what it’s like being a twenty-something virgin?” She rolled her eyes and stood.

“I...No. I don’t know what that’s like.” From the twist of his mouth, he still didn’t like the new knowledge she’d shared.

“I didn’t tell you because part of me was scared to.” She crossed to the bed and sat down next to him. “Maybe it was wrong, but I wouldn’t change anything. Well...okay, I’d have you remember it, but other than that, nope.”

“I wish I’d known...” He seemed so lost and distressed, she almost felt sorry for him.

“Why? You’d have told me no?”

“I’d have tried to.” He sighed and placed his hand over hers, threading their fingers together. “I don’t have a lot of self-control when it comes to you. I would have...”

She couldn’t imagine having this conversation with any other man. What they’d had was right. Even intoxicated and drugged, he’d exceeded any expectation she might have had.

“Made it special?” She batted her eyelashes and grinned.

“Or something.”

“You seem like you need a minute to process this.” She tilted her head to the side.

He was still so serious. Haunted. Because of the sex? Or what they’d been through?

Mason’s expression softened by degrees. His thumb swiped over her knuckles. She still couldn’t read his face, but she was giving up on that. Somehow, she felt him. Deep inside of her. As if they’d traded bits of their souls.

“You make me see things differently,” he said.

“Good.”

“If you’d told me, I would have put you off. I...Maybe I’m glad you didn’t tell me? Were you ever going to?”

She stared at him for a moment, rolling the question around.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “We agreed when we came home that we were done. That we’d pretend nothing ever happened. So why bring it up?” It was an answer even she didn’t like. “What do we do now?”

Mason shrugged.

They didn’t have a clue.

Figured.

“It was good though, right?” he asked.

She tossed her head back and laughed.

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes it is.” She wiped at stray tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “You’re way more concerned about your performance than I was, that’s for sure.”

“Is it wrong I want to make sure it was good?”

“No. Thank you.” She leaned in and pecked his lips before she remembered...she wasn’t supposed to do that anymore.

She pulled back, that zing of awareness still a hot wire.

Mason stared at her.

She stared at him.

“Sorry. I forgot,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“I was so scared I was going to lose you. That we wouldn’t find you. Or that—”

“I know.” She wrapped both her hands around his. “I was scared, too.”

He blew out a breath.

She’d never seen anyone with more pain markers than him. As a physical therapist, it was her business to know when something hurt or caused discomfort. Mason had them all in spades, and she knew why without having to ask.

He loved her.

She loved him.

And they couldn’t talk about it. Because once those words were out of the bag, there wasn’t anything they could do to pack them away again.

A loud
Bang!
Crash!
woke Mason from a deep sleep. Hannah started in his arms.

It took him half a second to remember they were in her bedroom and the other half to start moving. He stood, drawing his gun from the side table, and circled the bed to stand between her and the door.

“Mason?” Hannah whispered, the tension strung tight in her voice.

“In the bathroom, now.”

She rolled out of bed and stopped, head tilted sideways. If possible, her face seemed to go even paler in the darkness.

A light flipped on downstairs, flooding the upper landing in a warm, yellow glow.

She turned, eyes wide, lips parted, panting, and mouthed, “Dad.”

Oh shit.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

Mason kept the gun in hand, but lowered it.

Hannah tiptoed out of the room to the banister and peered over.

“Daddy?”

“Hannah. Dear God, they just told me.” Footsteps thumped on the stairs.

She glanced over her shoulder, expression panic stricken.

Mason slipped his handgun into her nightstand, snagged his jeans off the floor and stepped into them. They’d barely slept, and still he felt rotten about being caught with her. Or about to be caught.

Mr. Stevens shadow stretched across the landing. Hannah scampered out of view, maybe to stall her dad for a moment. Mason pulled on his shirt, too. If he had his clothes on maybe the old man wouldn’t skin and kill him. Just kill him.

Hannah and her father came into view, framed by the doorway.

Stevens paused when he caught sight of Mason, his face twisting into something akin to rage.

“You. What the hell are you doing here, you son of a bitch?” Stevens stomped into the room and might have tried walking through the bed if Hannah hadn’t grabbed his arm.

“I asked him stay,” she said.

“This is all his fault. Why would you do this?” Stevens jabbed his finger in Mason’s direction.

“It is not his—”

“Hannah,” Mason snapped.

She glanced his way. He shook his head. Someone had to be the focal point of Stevens’ anger, and after everything she’d gone through, Mason wasn’t going to allow it to be her. Besides. Mason had made the poor judgment call that let Hannah out of his line of sight. His decisions had made her an easy target.

“I ought to fire your ass right now.”

“Dad—stop!”

“You!” He swung around and aimed that same finger at Hannah.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly.

“Mr. Stevens,” Mason pitched his voice over them. “A word please?”

Hannah and her father both paused in their windup to a good fight to glance his way. Mason strode around the bed to the door and waited. Like hell he was going to sit there and let Stevens take out his fears on Hannah.

Stevens glanced from the door to Mason and back before taking the first step out of the room.

“It was not Mason’s fault.” Hannah followed closely on her father’s footsteps, not ready to give up the fight. “I asked him to go with me. He protected me!”

Mason caught Hannah by the shoulders and ducked his head to look her in the eye.

“Stop. Let me handle this, please?” He waited out her glare, but she never answered.

Hannah rolled her eyes and whirled away from him. It was as close to permission as he was going to get.

He closed the door behind him and hoped she stayed out of this. He was willing to take the brunt of her father’s anger. It wasn’t real rage anyway. Mr. Stevens was the same scared, sick-with-worry parent they dealt with all the time. Except he was also directly over Mason.

Mr. Stevens jerked open the front door and stomped outside. Mason followed, treading lightly.

They didn’t speak until they were on the front porch, door closed.

Stevens paced across the room and whirled.

“You let her go to Mexico? What the hell were you thinking?” Stevens threw up his hands. “This is on you, Clark. You fell down on the job and she could have paid the price for your fuck up. I’m going to bury you, boy.” Stevens glared at him.

“I’m sure you will try.”

“I should never have brought you on. Never.”

“Sir,” Mason snapped. “All due respect—fuck you. I was a damn good soldier, and I did what was right. Your daughter? She’s alive because of me. Did I screw up? Yeah. I fucked up big time. But I got her back. You want to lay her going to Mexico on me? Have you met your daughter? I’d have died to get her back. Any one of us could have. But we didn’t. We brought her home. Safe. If you need to yell at someone about it to make yourself feel better, yell at me. Not her. And keep your damn threats to yourself.”

That...kind of felt good. Granted, he was going to lose his job over this, but in the last twenty-four hours he’d more or less accepted that.

Stevens turned and paced as far away as he could on the small porch.

The sky was starting to lighten on the horizon. Touches of gray faded into mist.

The bubble of tension burst, and all the fight seemed to seep away, soaked up by the sun.

“The last conversation I had with Hannah before I left was a fight about going to seminary,” Stevens said with his back toward Mason.

“She told me you wanted her to get a Mrs. Degree.”

“Is it wrong to want something different for my child?” Stevens turned, his brow creased, not with anger, but something else. “I came home from my second deployment after her being born and...she was scared of me. Didn’t even know who I was. My wife loves the man I haven’t been for decades. Why would I want that for my baby girl? Why would I want you in her life?”

All questions Mason had asked himself. He was bad for Hannah. He just had to hold onto that knowledge a little tighter.

“Guys like you—you’re too rough around the edges. You have too much baggage.” Stevens turned to face the horizon.

Mason could fill a house with his baggage.

“But I have to ask myself...” Steven’s tipped his chin up and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Would I prefer Hannah to be with someone who just loves her, or would I want her to be with someone who loves her so much he would die for her?”

Mason didn’t move. He didn’t dare to. Not even to breathe.

“I don’t like you, Clark, but I’m going to have to learn to, aren’t I?”

Mason swallowed. What the fuck was going on?

“My daughter and I are cut from the same cloth. We are difficult people. Do you know if you love her yet?”

“Yes.” Mason’s heart screamed it.

“I don’t want to see you for a week, Clark. I can’t stand the sight of you, but I imagine my wife will want to have you over for dinner, so we’ll make do.” Stevens turned, glancing at Mason. “A week. Stay out of my sight for a week.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ho-ly shit.

Hannah sat on the bottom stairs, watching the shadows sway back and forth through the frosted glass.

What were they saying?

She couldn’t make out anything. Not one little word. Which was shocking. She’d been ready for her dad to yell, scream, maybe even shoot Mason. Instead, it sounded as though they were having a civil discussion. About what? And why couldn’t she be involved? Of course they’d talk about her. Her trip. All her wrong decisions.

God, she wanted to strangle her father. For this and everything else. He could be so damn difficult.

The thinner shadow shrank.

Her dad was leaving?

That was it?

Mason opened the front door and stepped over the threshold. His short hair stuck up every which way and he had a bit of a shell-shocked expression on his face.

“What? What happened?” She sat up straighter. “Did he fire you?”

“No.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Each footfall against the stairs as he climbed the short distance to her was louder than the next. Whatever had happened, he wasn’t finished processing it yet.

Mason put his knee on the step between her feet, his hands at either side of her hips.

It was bad. Her father had said something—or done something—that couldn’t be taken back. And now Mason would pay the price for her actions. Her stupid, selfish, half-baked plan to be alone with him would cost him everything.

She leaned forward, gripping his shoulders and kissed him, needing that connection. To feel him. Even if it was wrong. God, she was selfish.

His hand slid up the front of her shirt, cupping her bare breast. She arched into his hold, her brain going silent at his touch. He toyed with her nipple, twisting it gently between his fingers until she moaned into his mouth.

Mason pulled back, grabbing the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up and off.

She wasn’t about to stop him. If they couldn’t figure out a way around her father’s ultimatums, this might be one of the last times she got to see Mason. To have him inside of her. To love him without distance between them.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he muttered against her mouth.

“You said that before.” She gasped as his fingers played her breasts like a virtuoso.

“Did I?” His stubble rasped across her jaw.

“Mm.” She shifted on the step. If she’d worn panties under her shorts, they’d be wet right now.

“When?” He kissed a line down her neck to her chest.

“In bed.” She gripped the edge of the stairs and leaned back.

“Which bed?” He kissed the skin between her breasts.

“Resort.” Did he have to keep talking?

“Doesn’t count. I don’t remember it.”

“I do.”

Mason’s big hand slid up the inside of her shorts, his fingers brushing her folds. Hannah gasped and let her head drop to the stair. He slowly pushed one finger inside of her, invading her body. She wanted more. In such a short time, she’d become his in a way she never wanted to change.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them deep within her channel. She shuddered and dug her fingers into his short hair, needing to feel him.

“M-Mason...” She gasped as he hit a hidden bundle of nerves. The gasp turned into a long groan as pleasure rippled through her.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Oh...my...”

He chuckled against her cheek, his lips leaving little kisses in their wake.

“What is it?” he asked.

How did she put it into words?

“I want you.” In all the ways.

“I want to fuck you right here.” He pressed down on her, his weight pinning her in place.

Yes!

“I really hope your roommate doesn’t come home soon.” Mason pushed up.

She whimpered at the loss of contact, the heat of his body. There was something about the feel of his body pressing hers down that just...did something to her. It was the strangest thing, and she wasn’t about to question what her body desired.