Chapter 16

Nicole

“I was hoping we can still screw around tonight…” Mason’s gaze was on the road, but in the headlight of the oncoming vehicle, I could make out the smirk on his face. “For old times’ sake.”

I laughed. How could I not? That sounded just like the Mason I’d already grown to care for—as a friend. But what he said about us not having sex together after tonight made sense. It prevented us from crossing over the line of professionalism, and it gave me a chance to take a giant step back from what we had been together in Desert Springs. And I wasn’t talking about the friends part.

A horrifying thought hit me in the stomach with the force of an out-of-control ten-ton truck. “Your bandmates…they don’t know we’ve been sleeping together, right?” Please tell me no.

The look on Mason’s face said it all.

Crap. “You told them?” I squeaked.

“No, I didn’t tell them. They guessed.”

“That’s not making me feel any better.” That his bandmates had immediately guessed that I’d had sex with him suggested he’d been with a lot of women during his time with the band…and that suggested he’d be with a lot of women on this tour, with me knowing about every one of them.

“I’m sorry, Nicole. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, glancing at me briefly before returning his gaze to the road. His eyes echoed the sentiment. If he could’ve kept the truth from the band, he would have. For my sake.

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me any explanations. After tonight, you’ll be nothing more than my boss.”

Mason gave a small nod.

A few minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of a low-rise building that featured lots of windows. The lawn and garden were well maintained, hinting that the rents weren’t exactly low here, but I guessed they also weren’t exorbitant, like in some parts of the city.

Unlike on my quiet street back home, a stream of traffic drove past, reminding me that we were no longer in a small town. The less-than-fresh air might have been another clue.

As we rode the elevator to the third floor, the sexual energy between us buzzed like a wire you know you shouldn’t touch, but do so anyway. I stared at the elevator door, fighting the craving to throw myself at him. By the time it finally pinged opened, I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, desperate to get moving.

The first thing I noticed when we stepped into his loft a few minutes later was that the place was the complete opposite of my house. The furniture was decidedly masculine and of higher quality. It was also a lot sparser than I would’ve expected. But who needed much in the way of furniture when you were always on the road, touring?

The walls that weren’t glass were either exposed brick or white. At the far end of the open space, a black metal staircase led up to what I figured had to be the bedroom. Black metal railings, like on a balcony, gave the faint impression of bedroom walls.

The kitchen was straight from a magazine, with its shiny stainless steel appliances and black granite counter. The only thing that wasn’t out of a home design magazine was the child’s drawing on the fridge. I couldn’t be sure what it was intended to be, but it made me think of Mason playing the drums. The “Uncle Mason” written in crayon at the top of the page might have something to do with that.

I pointed to the picture. “Who drew this?”

“Logan.” Pride lit up his face like a campfire on a cool dark night as he studied the drawing. It was clear to anyone who saw it that he’d make a great father one day. The kind of father who would always be there for his kids, in one way or another.

My ovaries got excited at the thought. Typical. They really needed to read the memo.

Obviously disagreeing with me, they gave me a not-so-subtle hint to kiss him. It was too late to worry about the band and how they had assumed that he and I had already had sex. I had to make tonight count before my sex life hit another long drought.

I stepped into him and brushed my lips against his jaw. “I guess we should make the most of tonight while we still can.”

Mason didn’t answer with words. But that was because his mouth was too busy kissing mine. It was hard to talk when your tongue was making nice with someone else’s.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him, our bodies touching. Every inch of me that brushed against him hummed with need…and something else. I would definitely have to make sure I didn’t touch him while on tour. My willpower was at an all-time low when it came to this man. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of the band or the roadies.

Or his groupies.

He bent his knees, and the next thing I knew my legs were wrapped around his waist. Our tongues stayed entwined as he walked across the room and up the stairs.

He sat, and only then did I look to see where we were: on a king-sized bed on the upper level. The ceiling, with its dark wooden support beams, stretched high above us. Everything about the loft screamed bachelor. I couldn’t imagine him living anywhere but here.

Still straddling him, I gazed into his chocolate-colored eyes and my body practically melted. Note to self: while with him on tour, do not look into his eyes. To do so would lead to disaster—and I wouldn’t get my work done.

But since I wasn’t officially on tour with him yet, I ignored the warning for now and worked on my next goal, which was getting him naked.

Less than thirty seconds later, I had achieved exactly that, but I did have Mason to thank for it. It would seem that I wasn’t the only one eager for our last night together.

I slipped my dress over my head. Before I could stretch my arms back to unhook my bra, his arms encircled me. A moment later my bra was dangling from his talented fingers.

“I’m impressed,” I said as he dropped the bra onto the floor. “You’re like the Houdini of bras.”

He chuckled deeply. “Never been called that before.”

“No one might have said it, but they were certainly thinking it.”

He gave my breasts a light squeeze and skimmed his thumbs against my now perky nipples.

A moan slipped from between my lips. I couldn’t help it. It was just as well we weren’t going to have sex while on tour. When it came to Mason, there was no way the guys wouldn’t know what we were up to. I was that noisy—not that he was much better.

And just to prove it, when he finally plunged into me several minutes later, the room echoed with our panting breaths, our moans, our not-so-whispered “Oh God” and “Christ, I want to fuck you hard, Nicole.” Thank God I wasn’t a screamer, or else the entire L.A. police department would’ve been banging at the door.

Once we were finished, with me sated and limp, Mason disposed of the condom, then rejoined me in bed. He cuddled me as we lay there, my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump thump of his heart.

The only reason I knew he wasn’t asleep was because his fingers were gently stroking my arm. I closed my eyes, drowsiness lapping over me.

“Have you ever been in love?” Mason asked after a few minutes, startling me. Of all the questions he could’ve asked, that was one I certainly had not been expecting.

I peered up at him, trying to figure out where this had come from. “I had a boyfriend in college. At the time I thought I was in love with him. He graduated a year before me and had a job offer in San Francisco that was too great to turn down. We tried doing the long-distance thing, but it didn’t last long.”

“What happened?”

“I guess in the end what I’d believed was love wasn’t. I cared about him, but I didn’t experience an ache in my heart from being away from him like I thought I would. Yes, we talked on the phone and we Skyped, but when he forgot to contact me because he was busy, it didn’t bother me. And I’d also forget to contact him. In the end, we realized we were really nothing more than friends and broke up. What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes, and she broke my heart.” For a second his face was a study in pain, but then both sides of his mouth twitched up.

“So what was her name?” I asked, figuring he wasn’t as heartbroken as he claimed.

“Meggie Smith. She was nine, I was eight.”

I spluttered a laugh. “Ooh, so you prefer older women! So, no other broken hearts after that?”

“Nope. None at all. I’d learned my lesson and wasn’t going to risk my heart again.”

Despite the humor in his tone, I pushed myself up on my elbows to get a better look at him. Along with humor, there had been something else in his voice.

But whatever it was wasn’t on his face. I shifted over him and skimmed my mouth over his.

Which progressed to heavy kissing.

Which resulted in another round of sex.