Make Me Believe: Unbelievable, Book 3 (3 page)

Mason barely glanced at the offerings. “I have better things to worry about than an old lady and a gay hairdresser right now.”

He leaned away from her, his faced flushed with lust, his skin drawn taut across his sharp cheekbones. His jaw clenched, his gaze intent as he stripped her bare. Tugging her dress away from her shoulders, he slipped it down her body.

“Lift your hips,” he whispered.

She did, arching off the sofa. He drew her dress and sheer black panties down her thighs, over her boots and off her legs. He tossed them behind him and paused as he took in her equally sheer mesh bra and black lacy thigh high stockings. He grinned and shook his head. Then he worked on her bra, unhooking the clasp at the front and helping her pull it off her arms.

“The boots and stockings can stay. They’re sexy.” He bent forward and kissed her calf just above the top of one boot.

It was a moment that could have come straight out of every fantasy she’d ever had about him. She swallowed. “Maybe this isn’t such a good—”

“Nuh-uh. No backing out now.” Bending farther, he buried his face in the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. His tongue dipped in, flicking over her clit.

Shock sizzled through her system, and he pressed her thighs flat to the cushions, taking as much access as he could get. His mouth settled on her clit and sucked hard, and she cried out. Fire danced over her skin, and still it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. Her hands curved around her breasts, fingers circling her nipples. It added another layer to the overwhelming sensations, and she wanted more.

He pulled back, his eyes wild, her wetness glistening on his lips. “I have to have you now.”

The man stripped in a few seconds, dropping his pager to the table before his clothes hit the floor. She would have teased him about his eagerness, but she was more than ready for him to be naked. And inside her. His bare body was as tightly muscled as she’d imagined, a thin sprinkling of hair bisecting his chest and trailing down to the hard curve of his cock. He was big. It was the only thought she had before he tore open one of the condoms, slid it on with rough efficiency and was on top of her, his thighs wedging hers open wider. The smooth head of his dick probed at her pussy, and she shoved upward. She couldn’t wait, she needed him moving within her. He filled her, stretched her to the limits and then some.

A low cry burst from her throat, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his flesh as she struggled to accommodate his girth. When he was seated to the hilt inside her, he groaned, his arms shaking as they braced on either side of her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, renewed urgency beginning to wind inside her, the sharpness of it a blade that shredded her control. Her grip tightened on his shoulders, her hips undulating in a mindless drive to communicate her need. “Don’t stop.”

His laugh was harsh. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure I could.”

Rocking his pelvis against her, he drove her to madness. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips. Her body bowed, trying to take him deeper, make him move faster,
anything
that would grant her the surcease only he could give her. Squeezing her inner muscles around his cock, she smiled when he shuddered and groaned. And thrust hard, giving her what she craved.

He did it again. And again, picking up speed and force with each entry. Pleasure exploded through her when he slammed into her body, their flesh slapping, the carnal sound of sex echoing in the basement. He dipped down to capture her lips, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with the same rhythm his body set for hers. She moaned and slid her palms over his flexing his arms and shoulders, loving the play of his rougher skin against hers, loving the way they moved together. The way the hair on his chest rasped across her nipples, his musky masculine scent filled her nostrils, his hips rubbed hard against her clit, his mouth worshipped hers—it drove her closer and closer to climax.

God, it was incredible, just as she’d always feared it would be.

Each time he pushed his long dick into her pussy, her channel spasmed. She could feel her orgasm building. Sweat slipped down her skin, her lungs burning as she sucked in oxygen. Pleasure flowed through her in waves, gaining force until it was a tsunami that threatened to drag her under. She clung to him, to sanity. It was too much to handle, terrifying and beautiful all at once. Her nails dug into his back and he hissed, pounding his cock into her sex, pushing them both over the edge.

When he ground down into her clit, she exploded into orgasm. A scream ripped from her throat, lost under the commanding pressure of his mouth on hers. There was no escaping the shattering ecstasy of it. Her pussy flexed around his cock, again and again. Tingles broke down her skin, her body consumed by sensations that were too hot to contain.

He shoved deep inside her, deeper than he’d been before, and she screamed and came again. He threw his head back and froze above her, shuddering as orgasm took him as well.
“Celia!”

A moan was the only response she could make. He collapsed on top of her, his heavy weight crushing her into the couch cushions. It felt good. She ran her fingertips up and down his back as the dampness evaporated from their skin, as their breathing and heart rates slowed to normal. Time drifted, everything hazy with repletion. He stroked her bare hip, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck. His warm breath against her skin made her sigh.

He groaned and slid his softening cock out of her. A shiver she couldn’t stop coursed through her at the glide of flesh. He swallowed as he sat beside her hip on the couch. His hand curved around her thigh, his gaze looking a little blurry and shell shocked. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. You?”

“Yeah.” He blinked and a satiated grin curved his lips. “Definitely.”

“Well, okay then.”

Rubbing his thumb across the top of her leg, he glanced around and sighed when he spotted the bathroom door. He bent forward and brushed a kiss just above her navel. “I’m going to clean up. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” She sat up and watched him walk toward the small half-bath, his buttocks flexing with every step. Damn, he was a good-looking man.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be kicking her own ass for giving in to temptation, for not telling him no. He would have listened if she’d insisted, she knew he would have, but the bottom line was, she’d wanted this for a long time. She just hadn’t wanted the emotional complications that might come along with it.

Well, too late for regrets.

She shook her head at herself and reached for one of the strawberries. If she were stuck here for the night, she’d enjoy the moment and worry about the morning when it arrived. It would get here sooner than she’d like, and then she’d deal the consequences of tonight’s choices. She didn’t want to think about it now. At all.

The fruit’s flavor burst inside her mouth, the sweet pulp and seeds melting on her tongue. She closed her eyes and sighed, savoring the simple act of chewing. It was a pure, sensual experience, like everything else since they’d been locked down here.

A choked sound made her eyes fly open. Mason stood in the bathroom doorway, his gaze locked on her mouth. His face was tight with lust, and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “I’ve never gotten hard just watching someone eat a strawberry.”

He wasn’t lying. His erection curved to just below his navel, and her sex fisted looking at him. He strode toward her, his gaze glinting with a promise she now knew he could more than fulfill. She shuddered, heat swamped her and renewed moisture flooded her pussy. If he’d never been turned on watching someone eat, she’d never gotten hot watching a man move across the room.

But, Jesus. The man was a walking felony, and she could appreciate it more now that he wasn’t on top of her. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his legs long and thick—his entire body was a tightly packed symphony of muscle. Heavy pecs were sprinkled with dark hair, and she wanted to lick those flat brown nipples. His abs formed hard ridges that her fingers itched to stroke.

She curled her fingers into balls to keep from touching him as something occurred to her. She nodded toward his pager. “Don’t you have to go in to work at a god-awful time in the morning? What if they don’t let us out in time?”

“I’m not really thinking about work right now.” He huffed out a laugh, gesturing down at his aroused body. “But since you’re interested, I have tomorrow off.”

Her brows drew together. “But…tomorrow’s Thursday.”

His broad shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Firefighters’ schedules are weird. We go twenty-four hours on, forty-eight hours off.”

“So, you’re there for twenty-four hours straight?”

Amusement glimmered in his gaze, but he answered her anyway. “Yep, we eat there, sleep there. Just waiting for an emergency call to come in.”

“Huh. You’re right. That is weird.” Even weirder was that she was having a perfectly normal conversation with him. While stark naked. It was like an erotic dream mixed with an out of body experience.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Some women don’t like the schedule.”

The odd inflection in his voice had her tilting her head back to look him in the face. “You’ve dated women like that?”

“As it turns out, I was engaged to one.” His tone was easy, conveying that whatever had happened, he’d come to an acceptance of it.

“I take it that wasn’t the fiancée who was also a firefighter.” When his eyebrows arched, she hastened to add, “Tori told me. I didn’t ask.”

“Of course not.” He smirked at her, reaching out to run a possessive hand down her bare shoulder to her breast. “You would never ask about me—you have no interest in me.”

“Nope. None.” She walked her fingers up his chest and tweaked his nipple. Hard.

“Hey!” He jerked, slapping a hand over hers, a laugh rippling out of him.

She flattened her palm, feeling the bump of his heartbeat. “But seriously… What happens if there’s an emergency tonight and you get paged to come in?”

His tone turned matter-of-fact. “If it comes to it, I will rip that door off its hinges.”

“You can’t do that now?” Though the question was a bit like closing the barn door after the horse had escaped.

“Nope, I like being locked down here with you.” He grinned. “Plus, Mrs. Chambers would make me come back to clean up the mess and fix her door. No thanks, I’ll stick it out unless it becomes necessary to do otherwise.”

She scowled up at him. “I don’t like being held hostage.”

Taking the remainder of the strawberry from her, he slid the fruit over her bottom lip, leaving a trail of sweet stickiness. Then he bent down to lick the juices away. “Let me take your mind off of it.”

Chapter Three

Celia stepped out of her salon and closed the door behind her. She loved Occam’s Razor. Focusing on growing her business had gotten her through some of the darkest days of her life, so she was more than a little proud of its success. She’d bought the entire building, kept the old charm of the original barbershop on the bottom floor and, after her second divorce, moved into the apartment on the top floor.

Passing by the spinning red, white, and blue barbershop pole, she jogged across the street to the park that made up the town square. Aubrey had called to ask her to come over for lunch, and her best friend’s coffee shop was on the far side of the square. Celia smoothed her hair and her clothes as she walked along one of the many paths that wound through the park. A quick shower was all she’d managed before she’d had to open the shop for her first customer, but she assured herself that there was nothing in her appearance that indicated she’d spent the night having a shagfest with Mason.

Lucky for Jerry, he’d called in sick today. Maybe when he decided he felt better, she’d be less inclined to give him the boot.

She came around a copse of trees and spotted the sign for Aubrey’s shop, Bean There, Done That. Looking both ways, Celia crossed the street, the aroma of coffee luring her in like a Lorelei. No one made coffee and baked goods like Aubrey. She’d been a pastry chef at a fancy restaurant in Portland before her first marriage crumbled and she’d moved to Cedarville. Portland’s loss was Cedarville’s gain.

And Celia had gotten a best friend out of the arrangement, so she couldn’t complain.

Pushing open the door, she saw Aubrey and her assistant behind the counter, a short line queuing up to order. Aubrey waved her into the rear of the shop, so Celia walked through the swinging door that led to a large room where a huge prep table dominated the space. Ovens lined an entire wall, the scent of fresh pastries filling the air. Celia pulled up a stool at the table and plopped down.

“Hey, hon.” Aubrey hustled in, carrying a silver baking pan which had plates and cups of coffee balanced on it. She set the food and drinks in front of Celia, then dropped the pan into a huge basin sink. “All right. Susan will come get me if the crowd gets too bad, but it looks like we have a lull, so I can take a break.”

“Great.” Two of the plates had a nice little green salad and a turkey and cheese croissant sandwich, and a third plate was piled with cookies. Celia picked up her sandwich and dug in. She moaned when it hit her taste buds. “Oh, man. This is so amazing. I swear you put crack on your food—you just can’t stop eating it.”

“It’s the fresh croissant. Once you’ve had the real thing, you can’t go back to the processed stuff.”

“Crack sprinkled freshness. Nice.”

“Hey, whatever keeps the business coming in.” Aubrey laughed, sat and dug into her salad.

“You said it.”

“So, how did last night go?” Aubrey took a sip of her coffee, but her gaze never wavered from Celia’s across the table.

A blush heated her face at the mere mention of the night before. Mason had been insatiable. Almost as insatiable as her. They’d barely managed to get their clothes back on in time for Mrs. Chambers to spring them from the basement. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“The party. For Price and me.” Aubrey tucked a stray lock of her long, dark hair behind her ear and spoke slowly, as if to a mentally challenged child. “Did you have a good time?”