ROMANCE: Mason (Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Boxset) (New Adult Contemporary Stepbrother Romance Collection) (288 page)

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as he noticed me, his own half-smile full of apology that I no longer needed. Jumping off of his bike he met me half way down the street, stopping just in front of me. There was no overly-dramatic welcome, no, that wasn’t him. A smirk settled on his lips but it was the softness in his eyes that betrayed him, his soft brown hair going no way to concealing it. “You took your time,” he said sarcastically, I groaned, it looked like something’s never changed.

I batted Dominic’s arm with my own; it wasn’t hard enough to hurt him but enough to wipe the smirk off his face. “Is this a joke?” I asked, holding up the Blackjack set in my hands.

His eyebrows rose as he looked sceptically at me. “It was supposed to be,” he said with a shrug as a grin stretched across his face.

“Well it’s a bad one,” I responded teasingly.

He looked offended for a moment before his face settled back into a smile and he realised I was joking. A minute passed where neither of us said anything and I was content to look into his eyes and explore the brightness as it seemed he was as well. “I’m sorry, I was a jerk,” Dominic said, the first of the two of us to break.

“I know you are,” I said quickly watching as his smile dropped, “but I forgive you.”

He reached towards me and his hand cupped my cheek softly and in much the same way as he had done before his finger traced soft lines on my face. I leant into his palm; while his movements were the same the flutter in my stomach was so very different. I struggled to put my thoughts into words as his hand cupped me, held me in the softest way possible.

I choose not to speak but to take his hand in mine. He looked at me curiously, his eyes sparkling with the uncertainty that I knew they held. Slowly I guided his hand and placed his gently over my heart, keeping it there with my own palm. My heart fluttered, its rhythm increasing rapidly under his warm touch. I watched his reaction, saw how his eyes widened slightly at the quickening of my heart.

With my courage building and when he made no move to speak I took a deep breath, biting the bullet for us both. “Do you feel that?” I asked using his owns words against him.

It took a moment but slowly he nodded and the movement only made my heart beat faster. “I will never break your trust again,” Dominic said in a voice that was void of everything except care and I knew then that I could trust him.

Dominic took my hand in his and placed it against his heart mirroring his own hand which was still pressed lightly against my chest.  I could feel the beat of his heart quicken as he stared into my eyes and even more so when he leant towards me. His lips brushed mine softly, teasing a response that I was so willing to give.

I closed the small breath of air that kept our lips apart as quickly as I could and in an instant the rhythm of his heart matched my own frantic beat. He let me taste the sweetness of his lips and explore the softness before he captured them with a ferocity that sent heat surging through me. He gave me no time to react now as he teased a moan free from my lips and let it vibrate against us.

The sound died away and I kissed him back; our bodies pressed together in the moment of passion with just our hands between us and the heavily beat of our hearts. If I had chance to breathe I knew I would have been breathless but he kept my lips for himself capturing them again and again until pleasure tingled with each new touch and every caress.

With a groan he pulled away and I rested my forehead against his and everything else was forgotten. His heart beat return to normal in time with my own as we stood together, neither of us seeming to want to break the new-found closeness first. “You know I fixed the helmet you broke,” Dominic said as casually as possible, I could see right through it to the humour underneath.

I pushed away from him with a teasing glare. “Then when you figure out how to wear them both make sure you let me know,” I said with a smile.

“You’ll ride again,” he stated with far too much certainty for my liking.

“You’d really trust me not to kill you?” I questioned remembering just how tightly I had held on before.

Dominic grimaced slightly but a smile quickly took it place. He pressed his lips down softly on my own. “I’ll never make the mistake of not trusting you again, even if you happen to squeeze the life out of me,” he chuckled.

“I do my best but I’m not making any promises,” I said returning his kiss with one of my own, things were definitely going to be interesting with Dominic around that was for sure.

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By Sicily Duval

I’m nervous, and not just nervous, but a nervous wreck. I can admit to myself when I’m nervous, but this is ridiculous. My palms are sweating and the lavender button-up I had got on sale this weekend was clinging to my back. I had to physically restrain myself in order to prevent my normally sturdy knees from shaking and had to make a conscious effort to regulate my breathing to give off the illusion of calmness.

It was my first date since Dianna and I had divorced, and I wasn’t rusty per-se, I mean, I still had as much skill in the dating department as the next guy, but I had been out of the game for ten years and I was a little thrown at the prospect of diving right in.

Dianna and I had married when we were twenty-five, had eight wonderful years together, one mediocre year together during separation and one terrible year as we went through divorce proceedings. It hadn’t been messy; neither Dianna nor I were particularly greedy so everything had been fairly equally distributed, but the process was long and drawn out and emotionally taxing on the both of us. In hindsight, I probably should have gone with Dianna’s suggestion of getting a mediator.

I’d met Margie at the coffee shop I frequent on my way to work, and yes, she was eight years my junior, but, as she had so delightfully put it, I was a handsome silver fox. She had it half right, I was handsome, that was for sure, but my hair was nowhere near silver; it was an illustrious brunette. And the fox thing, well, I was a werewolf, but close enough. She gets an A for effort.

We were going to a club Margie had heard about from friends, a place called ‘Midnight Sun’. And, with the full moon three days away, I hoped to be more on my game. The one good thing about being a werewolf, the closer to the moon it got, the more feral and, well, sexually proficient I got. I’d heard younger guys were getting more aggressive in their tactics lately and that’s what women on the younger side preferred or something, so the full moon would hopefully work in my favor tonight.

I knocked on Margie’s door; it was a small apartment but it was on the upper end of town, meaning it was likely very pricey despite its size. I’ll have to remember to ask what she does for a living.

I shifted a bit uncomfortably, shaking my hands to get some of the jitters out as I waited for her to answer the door. I adjusted my jacket; it was a leather one I hadn’t worn in a while but Dianna had always said she’d liked it. I shook my head; thoughts of Dianna have to be strictly off-limits tonight. This is a date, with a very nice, very . . . perky woman much younger than my wife, and it was a fresh start. All men talked about wanting younger women, and, while I had never quite shared their sentiments, I had what most men wanted. I had a fresh start and a golden opportunity. I’m not going to screw this up.

I stood up a little straighter as the door swung open.

“Mason!” Margie squealed, immediately looping her arms around me and pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek. Her very fruity and very strong perfume wafted over me, making me hold in a sneeze for a moment before I returned the gesture with a haphazard kiss on her cheek as well.

Smooth. Yep, I was starting this date off smooth. I sighed, taking a step back and giving her a sly once-over. She was wearing the stereotypical little black dress that clung to her in all of the right places. The bottom of it was dangerously short and the neckline plunged to her navel, leaving none of her cleavage to the imagination. It was also very clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

I chuckled, waving off the curious but wicked look from Margie. Tonight was going to be fun.

-x-x-x-

Butterflies had been flitting around in my stomach all night. I have a date! I can admit, I’m a bit rusty to the field of flirting and dating, but I’ve still got game. I’m thirty-five but far from middle-aged. And, if I do say so myself, I still have a body that doesn’t quit.

Yes, yes, I’m not all that caught up on the latest dance moves, and I’m sure my knowledge of some pop culture is fading, but as a news journalist, it’s my job to be informed, so I’m not too worried about the potential culture gap between me and my date tonight.

Mark was thirty, a nice guy I had met during one of my interviews. He was an assistant to one of New Hampshire’s leading CEO’s and I had picked up on his not-so-subtle flirting. Not-so-subtle because, since Mason and I’s divorce, I hardly recognized if someone was being friendly or if they were flirting. Mark practically had to hit me over the head with a mallet to get me to realize that he was asking me out.

I had let him pick the date, and now, I had apparently gotten myself into clubbing at one of the newest places in New Hampshire. Some place called ‘Midnight Sun’. At the very least it had sounded intriguing.

I know everyone typically goes for that little black dress look on first dates, but I wanted to make an impression. I decided on a short but curve-clinging red dress that had a modest neckline that was just low enough to show off my respectable cleavage. I was wearing my sexy black lace bra and panty underwear and if I was lucky, I’d get a chance to show it off. I’d painted my lips an equally bold red and I wore comfortable but shiny black stilettos. I was taking a bit of a risk, Mark wasn’t too much taller than me, but I have long legs and I’ll be damned if I don’t show them off.

The doorbell rang. “Alright, here we go.” I took a deep breath, smoothing my dress before walking as calmly as possible to the door.

“Hello,” I said coyly, leaning in so Mark got just a glimpse beneath my dress as I gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

He smiled, showing off his astoundingly white and straight teeth. I suspect he had braces as a child and brushes perhaps a tad bit obsessively. But regardless, he was easy on the eyes, a tall glass of water if I had to describe him. He had spiky black hair and a flattering amount of scruff around his cheeks that I wanted to run my hands along.

He was tall, now on parallel height with me in my heels, and was nicely built. He had smooth, lean muscles beneath his black V-neck and he wore slim-fitting dark-wash jeans. And, when I say slim-fitting, I mean slim-fitting; they left nothing to the imagination.

“Ready to get going?” Mark asked, hands in his pockets and nodding at his car.

I smiled, “Yep, let’s go!”

I was a bit surprised when he didn’t open the door for me, but I was aware that it probably wasn’t standard courtesy to open the door any more. It might be viewed as over-the-top now.

The car ride was a bit awkward. The only thing we really had to discuss was work, and he made it abundantly clear with his monosyllabic answers that he was less than interested in what I did for a living.

“So, have you been to this club before?”

Mark shrugged. “Once or twice with some old college buddies. It’s pretty poppin’.”

“Poppin’?” I asked, chuckling. I had heard MCs on the radio use terms like that but it was a bit hilarious to hear it used in everyday conversation.

Mark smirked. “Oh, right, I forgot you were a bit of a cougar. It means cool.”

“A cougar?” I asked, just a bit outraged. “We’re five years apart.”

Mark shrugged. “Yes, well, you are an older woman. A very sexy older woman mind you, but older. By definition a cougar.”

“You realize that I don’t routinely look to date younger men, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but still. You were married.”

“Yes, and you’re a thirty-year-old bachelor,” I retorted, more than a bit offended.

Mark’s hand tightened on the wheel. I’d upset him but at the moment I couldn’t really bring myself to care. I did, however, make the effort to engage in more small talk now that the car ride seemed much longer. When we finally arrived at the club, I let out a quiet sigh of relief, merely glad to be out of the car. Hopefully, after I had a couple of drinks in me, things would go better.

The line to get into the club was long, and the air was chilly as we waited patiently outside. Mark lit up a cigarette beside me, sending a cloud of smoke into my face as I coughed pointedly. He shrugged in apology and I turned away, eyes scanning the line of people ahead of us. It was like they were all in uniform; all the girls wore black dresses short enough to see their nether regions, and their necklines plunged low enough and the fabric was sheer enough that they may as well have been clothed in nothing more than pasties and a G-string.

I had wanted to stand out, and I sure as hell got what I wished for. All the men were clothed in equally dark colors, except for one near the head of the line who was wearing some kind of lilac-colored dress shirt. At least I wasn’t the sole outcast.

I looked back over to Mark; he was staring back at me, cigarette carelessly dangling between his fingers at his side.

“Dianna,” he said, stepping closer to me, “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I know I’ve said some things to potentially offend you so I’ll apologize. Alright, I’m sorry. Can we just, you know, forget the car ride and start again?”

I offered him a small smile, willing to at least try. “Alright, sounds good. And, you know, I’m sorry for the bachelor comment,” I said, attempting to similarly extend an olive branch.

He smiled, “It’s okay, let’s just have some fun tonight.”

“Sounds good.”

The line was moving a bit more quickly now, and after another five minutes or so we would be at the front of it. After a few more, cold, chilly minutes we were finally at the front. The bouncer gave us a once-over before turning to Mark.

“ID please?” he asked gruffly, large muscles protruding from his black undershirt. She was amazed that he didn’t show the faintest signs of being cold.

Mark sighed, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and then handing his driver’s license over to the man. The bouncer did a cursory check of the card before handing it back.

“Alright, you’re good, you two can go in, have fun.”

“Um, do you need to see mine?” I asked, nodding politely when he shook his head in the negative.

Mark chuckled. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me in through the doors. As soon as we stepped in we were bombarded by the thumping bass of the music flooding in through the speakers.

The club smelled like vodka and the sweat of a swarm of bodies gyrating on the dance floor. I hadn’t been to a club in years and my reintroduction to the club scene was a sudden one. As soon as we approached the bar, small clusters of two or three girls would all turn around and give Mark a once-over before turning back to their drinks. I rolled my eyes; apparently I would have competition.

We squeezed our way through the mass of standing bodies until we finally reached the counter. There was only one free barstool, and after what looked like a bit of internal deliberation from Mark, he gestured for me to take it, leaning against the bar beside me.

Mark signaled to the bartender, finally getting his attention and tapping his fingers a tad impatiently until the bartender reached us.

“Two beers please,” Mark ordered.

I coughed politely. “Actually, I’ll just have an appletini please,” I smiled.

The bartender was about to turn back to meet the drinks when Mark stopped him.

“Oh, no, no. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, the beer on tap’s great, so, just two of those.”

“I don’t really like beer,” I said, trying not to get annoyed.

Mark chuckled, “Oh come on, you can’t be that old. And the appletini’s probably ridiculously overpriced. So, if I’m paying, I think you should try something new. Bartender, two beers.”

The bartender, obviously not wanting to witness a conflict of any sort, turned to fetch the beers.

“You know, you don’t have to pay if you’re so concerned about price,” I said, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Despite his best efforts to, Mark had not completely ruined the date, but the night was certainly still young. My desperation to turn over a new leaf on my love-life won out over my disgruntlement at Mark’s behavior, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last.

I gave a strained smile when the bartender brought us our beers, and he offered me a sympathetic smile in return. I took it calmly, taking a sip to show that I wasn’t the prude that Mark was attempting to make me out to be. Either way, it was going to be a long night.

-x-x-x-

“This place is great, isn’t it?!” Margie yelled over the thumping bass.

I nodded, not quite sure I felt the same but wanted to appear like I was having fun regardless.

The center of the club was packed; it looked like a hotbed of herpes and drunken men desperately attempting to get a girl to agree to go home with them. From the gleam in Margie’s eyes, I could tell that she was determined to get us in there.

“Why don’t we go and get some drinks?” I need to distract her, and maybe when I was a little less than sober I’d be more willing to reconsider entering the mosh pit.

“What?” Margie shouted. I guess she couldn’t hear me.

“Drinks?” I yelled my mouth a mere inch from her ear. She jumped, sending me a resentful glare presumably because she thought I yelled too loud. I suppressed an eye roll, yelling too loud wasn’t really possible with this place. Nevertheless, I can tell she’s still annoyed for some strange reason, but I’ll ignore it. Grabbing her hand, I lead her over to the bar, hoping that some liquid courage will make all of this go down just a little bit easier.