CHAPTER EIGHT
“I like your hair,” Mason said; his tone was nonchalant, but his emotions were telling a different story.
He liked it, maybe a little too much. Clara had been trying to come up with an explanation, but it wasn’t until that moment when she finally decided how she was going to explain away such a drastic changed when he’d seen her so recently.
“I bought this shampoo and conditioner, and I thought that it refreshed the color that you already had. I bought the strawberry because I love the scent of strawberries, but I didn’t know that what I bought was a rinse in color. In red. It’s meant to keep hair already dyed red fresh, but since my hair was blonde and not red, it turned it a softer shade of strawberry blonde. I don’t know how long it will last.”
“It suits you. You’re feisty, like a redhead.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It is from me,” he said, taking another bite of his dinner and smiling.
A shiver ran up her spine, his eyes on her as his words sank in.
“Subtle,” she teased.
“I learned a long time ago that you don’t get what you want by dropping hints. I like you, Clara. A lot.”
“Really?” she said, her tone teasing him. “I sorta felt like you were trying to get rid of me or something. You didn’t seem too excited about the idea of me being here.”
He set down his fork, wiping his already clean mouth with a cloth napkin as a force of habit before he spoke.
“You’re right about that. I apologize. You have a very strong personality, and that takes some getting used to.”
“You’re used to me already?”
He laughed.
“Not even close. But I can appreciate a woman who holds her own as well as you do. You know what you want and you go after it, which is what I’ve done my whole life. You’re ambitious and driven, and I think that was why I struggled to get you at first. You don’t care what other people think about your plans. That was hard for me at first, especially since those plans don’t really jive with my plans.”
“And here I thought you’d asked me to have dinner with you so we could chat about something other than your conquest of the mountain.”
“This is what I’m talking about,” he said, brown eyes twinkling. “You force me to own my shit, and that’s not something I’m used to from an outside source. I hold myself accountable all the time. But you take it a step further, and you make no apologies. It’s refreshing.”
“You’ve just had far too many people kissing your ass for your own good.”
“You’re right about that, too.”
“I promise I won’t do that.”
“You’d be doing me a favor.”
“Anything less would be a disservice to you. You would start to expect the kind of nonsense you were used to before.”
“Can’t have that,” he said wryly.
“Absolutely not.”
Clara tried to keep a straight face, but she ended up laughing indelicately, too amused by their banter to hold back.
“You wouldn’t last in the boardroom,” he said when she finally contained her laughter. “Your face gives your feelings away.”
“There are worse things in this world than an honest face,” she said, standing up to help him clear the table.
“Don’t even think about it. You’re my guest.”
“You cooked, I clean.”
“I’ll meet you in the middle. You pick a bottle of wine and find a comfortable spot by the fireplace, and I’ll clean the kitchen.”
“How is that a compromise?”
He flashed a winning smile at her.
“It’s not, but I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll grab the wine and meet you by the fireplace. Just point me toward the wine cellar.”
“It’s down that hall, to your right,” he said.
She wandered down the hall, the sound of Mason hand washing their dinner dishes behind her. Her shoes hardly made any sound on the soft, polished wood floors, the creaks and moans she was accustomed to hearing in her cabin and in her grandmother’s home completely missing in the luxurious space.
The wine cellar wasn’t the dark, dank place she’d expected. Caramel-colored tile floors were the perfect accent to the stained wood walls and rows upon rows of neat wooden shelves. She’d been expecting one or two different kinds of wine, but the cellar was filled with bottles of every imaginable wine.
“There’s gotta be at least two hundred bottles in here,” she grumbled to herself.
“Need a little help?” Mason said, coming up behind her.
She jumped.
“I didn’t hear you coming,” she said.
He put his hands on her shoulders, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body.
“Red or white?” he asked without moving.
“I like red.”
He leaned over so he could point to a shelf to the right and down the aisle.
“I keep my Italian reds on that shelf. Third row up, there’s one called Amarone that I think you’ll love. Grab it and I’ll meet you by the hearth.”
“Does it need to be chilled?”
“No, but go ahead and open it over there,” he said, pointing to a little machine in the corner. “Put it in the holder and push the red button and it will uncork it for you. It needs to breathe for a little bit for the best flavor.”
“And here I thought I was fancy because I didn’t get my wine out of a box.”
Mason chuckled.
“You’re plenty fancy, but once you taste this wine, other reds will be ruined for you.”
She nodded, putting the wine bottle carefully into the machine, then pushing the button. It was silent, uncorking the wine with absolute precision. When she grabbed the open bottle and turned around, she was surprised to see that Mason was already gone.
“Hmm,” she said, wondering why he had even come into the cellar in the first place.
When she found her way to the fireplace, there was already a fire crackling merrily inside. Two wine glasses were on the end table near the couch, and Mason was nowhere to be seen.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she finally saw him in the darkness.
“I didn’t see you there,” she said.
“I see that,” he said, smiling.
He was sitting on a thick, bearskin rug in front of the fireplace, his back against the sofa, one knee bent so he could rest his elbow on it, watching her looking for him in the darkened room. She sat down beside him, handing him the bottle of wine and watching the fire dance in the hearth while he poured some in each glass.
“You build a fire faster than seems possible,” she said, admiring the perfect placement of the large log that was already starting to glow.
“I’ve had a lot of practice. Ever since I moved out here, I make it a point to make a fire whenever I can. Sometimes, I just enjoy sitting near it, listening to the sounds it makes.”
“Like now?”
“Yes, like now,” he said. “But this is much better.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re here.”
“Which surprises me, honestly, because I was sure you didn’t want me here,” she teased.
“I can’t stop you from doing what you want to do, so why fight it? That’s one thing we have in common; neither of us give up once we decide that we want something.”
“I’m glad you finally realize that,” she said, laughing a little and taking a quick sip of the wine.
“I think the only person on this mountain who is more stubborn than you are is me.”
“We make a good pair,” she said. “Together, we’re unstoppable.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
She took another sip, closing her eyes and moaning appreciatively.
“You’re right. This is going to ruin me.”
“Being with me, or the wine?”
She looked at him, deciding to throw caution to the wind, even if it turned out she was reading his intentions wrong. What did she have to lose?
“Both,” she said boldly. “I don’t know if another man will measure up after you.”
“I’m not even sure I can measure up to your estimation of me.”
“You can. All you have to do is be yourself and leave the rest of that nonsense behind.”
She set her glass on the end table beside the sofa, then took his glass from him and did the same. He didn’t fight it, but his smile said it all. She wasn’t the only one that wanted this.
Clara watched him, surprised by how different this man was from the pompous, self-absorbed asshole who had assumed that she couldn’t wait to offload her family’s precious land on him. He was still the same Mason, but there was so much more to him than the ambitious, cutthroat side of him. He was multifaceted, and beneath that hard exterior, he was a kind, gentle man. She wanted to show him that side of himself—to prove that he was more than a closer.
She didn’t say a word, didn’t wait for him to seduce her. She knew what she needed from him, what she’d hungered for since she’d admitted to herself that she was more than just a little attracted to him. She knew it was no coincidence that Fate had put them both on the mountain alone, and she wasn’t going to let this chance pass her by.
She leaned in, kissing him tentatively. Emboldened when he leaned into her kiss, she kissed him harder, letting the passion consume her for a moment and forgetting everything else.
They were both smiling when they pulled away, eyes locked, his dark brown eyes boring into her soul.
“You were teasing me earlier,” Mason said. “But something tells me you’re not teasing now.”
“You’re wrong,” she said. “I was hinting. I was disappointed when you let me walk away.”
“I never imagined that you would want anything to do with me after the way I treated you.”
“You’ve more than made up for it.”
“No, I haven’t,” he insisted, shaking his head. “At least, I haven’t yet.”
This time when they kissed, their worlds collided almost violently. Gone was any caution, along with any lingering doubt that this was what they both had been longing for.
Already too aroused to tread lightly, Clara tugged at the shirt in his waistband, pulling the soft blue shirt up and over his head. Tracing her fingers over his muscled chest, she admired his smooth skin, hot beneath her touch.
Mason held his breath when her roving fingers touched the top of his waistband, quickly working his belt buckle open then unbuttoning his jeans.
He stood, pulling her up with him and kicking his jeans off in one smooth motion as he unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it off her smooth shoulders.
“I want to feel you inside me,” she said, kissing him roughly as he undid her jeans.
“Say it again,” he said, his breath short as his arousal grew.
“I want you.”
He kissed her again, then his hands were in her hair, and she realized that she was standing there in just her bra. She’d been so enthralled by his kiss that she hadn’t even noticed that he’d pushed her panties and her jeans down all at once.
The fire warmed her backside while his fingers worked the clasp of her bra.
They stood there in front of the fire for a long time, naked, wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying ever so slightly to music only they could hear.
His body fit so well against hers that it was hard to tell where she ended and he began. But she was losing her patience with the dance, and when she tugged at him, he melted to the floor with her, kissing her on the way down. He laid her on the thick, fire-warmed rug in the middle of the floor, propped up on his elbows to hold his weight off her.
She moved her hips against his, but he was in no hurry despite his hard length pressed against her thigh.
“You’ve waited this long,” he teased, kissing her throat then working his way to her shoulder. “You can wait a bit longer.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Anything worth having deserves time.”
Before she could argue, his mouth covered hers again, kissing her roughly until he let her go, her lips slightly swollen with need.
He laid her back down on the rug, sitting above her so he could look at her. The cool air and the heat of the fireplace felt good against her skin, but it was Mason she wanted. He worked his way down, kissing between her breasts, then her soft stomach, then just below her navel.
When his head dipped between her legs and she felt his mouth on her, a tiny cry escaped her lips. His tongue swirled around the tiny nub of flesh, sending fire shooting through her entire body in one massive explosion of heat and light.
Clara closed her eyes, fingers curled in his hair, dancing with the skilled movements of his tongue. She was struggling to catch her breath, calling out his name and chasing an orgasm that was just out of her reach. It was building so fiercely that her body was trembling and writhing beneath him as the tension grew much too quickly.
Clara felt the heat flood through her body an instant before it hit her. Then it crashed over her like a giant wave, swirling around her and pummeling from all sides relentlessly. Without warning, a cry of pleasure was ripped from her throat.
Mason’s hands held her tight, forcing her so much deeper into the abyss. Just when Clara thought the pleasure was more than she could possibly bear, another wave hit her, sending her into a frenzy of frantic cries as she bucked beneath him.
He was laughing when he finally released her, propping himself on one elbow and trailing his finger over her thighs, between her legs, and over her abs.
Her body twitched beneath his touch, and all she could do was lay there and moan at the pleasure even the slightest touch brought her already raw nerves.
They lay there like that for a long time, while Clara came down from the most powerful orgasm of her life.
She was still trembling when he lay down beside her, watching her twitch as he ran a single finger over her naked body. She watched his face, brazen and confident with herself in every way.
He slipped his hand between her thighs, stroking her almost lazily as he watched her face. She opened her legs to him, her body still wild and driven by need. She arched her back, silently begging for more, but he shook his head, letting her know that he was in no hurry.
Clara arched her back, hips pushing against his hand as the heat built within her again. He could have gotten her off again right then, but somehow, he knew that wasn’t what she wanted.
Mason moved so he was above her, balancing on his forearms, hovering so his body was pressing against her heat. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck kissing him sweetly.
“Mason, I want you inside me,” she begged.
Her words shattered the last of his resolve. He slid into her, letting her body stretch around him for a moment before he buried himself deep inside her. He watched her face as she took every inch. Mason rocked against her, slowly at first, then speeding up when she thrust urgently against him, her breath already coming fast.
He’d teased her too much, and she was already on the verge of another climax, urging him on.
When Mason pinned her hands down above her head, her excitement grew. He held her wrists firmly and slowed his movements to draw the pleasure out longer. She whimpered with need, but he still took his time. Her body was hot around him, her legs wrapped around his hips as they rocked together.
She said his name so many times it became like a song on her lips. Shuddering around him as he thrust deeper, she clung to him. Wrapped in her embrace, he chased his own need until it grew to match hers.
Only then did he speed up, still holding her down. She bit her lip, her eyes holding his.
She was tense beneath him, a second orgasm looming. She could tell he was on the verge, so close the climax was in his reach.
Clara lost control the instant before his orgasm slammed into him. He let out a cry of surprise and let go of her wrists, bearing down on her as he gathered her into his arms. Mason held onto her for dear life, their shared cries mingling and echoing in the rafters high above their heads. When she thought she couldn’t take any more, she went limp in his arms and snuggled against him.
When his own need was thoroughly spent, he rolled so they were both on their side, pulling her as close as he could and kissing the top of her head.
“You’re quite a little firecracker,” he said, laughing.
“You’re even better than I imagined you’d be.”
“You’ve imagined me in bed?” he asked.
“Once or twice,” she said. “Now that I’ve had a taste of the real thing, my imagination isn’t going to cut it anymore.”
“I can help you with that,” he teased.
She nodded, but she was starting to fall to sleep, the ridiculously long day finally getting to her. Completely at ease, she burrowed against him, reveling in the freedom of lying naked with him right there in the middle of the living room.
He stroked her hair and rubbed his hand down her back until her eyelids got heavy, and she fell asleep in his arms.