License to Thrill Read online

  “Just a minute.”

  In two long-legged strides, he marched over to the dressing table, yanked the cellophane wrapper off the gift basket, plucked a condom from the plethora of products, tore the packet open, and rolled the Day-Glo green rubber onto his burgeoning erection.

  “Now that’s a picture.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promised and strutted back over to the tub.

  “Do those things work in water?” She was on the pill and she would bet anything he didn’t have a sexually transmittable disease but still, no sense taking unnecessary chances.

  “Don’t know. Never used one in the Jacuzzi.”

  “Me either.”

  “So we’re hot tub virgins together.”

  She liked the sound of that.

  Mason slid down in the bubbling liquid and he looked across the tub at her, his breathing labored and his gaze turbulent.

  The water churned and pulsated around them. She’d never been naked in a hot tub with a man before and that erotic reality along with the powerful water jets massaging and caressing sensitive areas of her body stoked her arousal.

  “Come here,” Mason said in a tone so husky it scraped her ears like sandpaper. He stared her right in the eyes and crooked a finger.

  And just like that, every bit of courage she possessed drained from her body.

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t make me come over there,” he said, his voice a silky threat.

  Her body trembled as if her temperature were a hundred and ten.

  “You started this, now I’m finishing it.” He reached under the water, found her foot, and trolled her toward him. Her head went under briefly and she came up sputtering, her hair fanning out around her. He hauled her closer to him until she floated above his knees.

  “Is drowning me all part of your master plan?”

  “I warned you.”

  She brushed the water from her eyelashes and looked at him. He rewarded her with his dimpled grin and she just about came undone.

  He had one hand still clamped tight around her ankle and his other hand was …oh, my.

  Charlee’s eyes rolled back in her head at the sheer pleasure of what he was doing.

  His fingertips lightly stroked her bottom in a tormenting technique that left her breathless, bewildered, and craving more.

  “What’s this?” he asked, his fingers finding the scar from her long-ago spider bite.

  “Origins of my black widow terror.”

  He made a sympathetic noise and his touch lightened. He inched her closer toward him, slowly separating her legs with his knees while his eyes never left her face. He tilted his head and lightly ran his tongue across her parted lips. Licking first her top lip and then her bottom. He tasted salty yet sweet.

  Letting go of her ankle, he reached up his hand to cradle her cheek as he kissed her and then she giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” he growled.

  “You. Me. Everything.”

  “I’m glad I amuse you.”

  “Amuse me some more,” she murmured.

  She was in his lap at this point, her legs splayed on either side of his waist, her bottom bobbing against him.

  “I love your breasts,” he broke the kiss to murmur.

  He scooted her bottom onto his knees and lowered his head to gently bite one of the stiff, pink nipples jutting hungrily forward.

  “Oooooh,” she exclaimed.

  “They’re beautiful,” he pronounced, then went for the other nipple.

  “Just like a peach.”

  “That’s right.”

  His mouth was so hot against her tender flesh a fiery sizzle of electricity shot straight through her tense body. She ached for him. If he could cause this explosion inside her just by nibbling her breasts, she thrilled to think what else he could do.

  Clutching his shoulders, she arched against him, pressing her breasts right into his face.

  His tongue flicked across her nipples, initially slow, then gradually speeding up, building and building and building the pressure inside her.

  Blindly, she reached down into the water, past their thighs, and found what she was looking for. The moment she cupped him in her palm, Mason gasped in shocked surprise.

  “Your touch…” he rasped, “it’s incredible.”

  She was smoldering, burning, simmering with heat and tension and desire.

  “I want it now,” she whispered. “I want you inside me. I want it hard and I want it hot and I want it fast.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked. “Anything you want.”

  Mason spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her up in the water and then tried to settle her down on his erection, but she slicked off of him and he ended up crashing into her.

  “Ouch.”

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

  “’Sokay. Let’s try again.”

  He carefully placed her over the throbbing head of him and tried to ease her over his shaft. They made contact—he was butted up tight against her opening—but she couldn’t slide down.

  She was stuck.

  See what happens when you go years without having sex? Use it or lose it.

  “Now I know how a shish kabob feels,” Charlee grumbled.

  “Shh, don’t make me laugh. Let me just wiggle around here for a better angle.” He shifted his backside against the bottom of the hot tub.

  He wriggled. She jiggled.

  Nothing happened.

  “You’re too big.”

  “I have to say, no one’s ever complained about that before.”

  “First time for everything.”

  “It’s not my size,” he argued. “It’s the water. It swells the tissues and washes away moisture making it hard for things…to…er…fit.”

  “They make it look so easy in the movies.”

  “That’s because it’s simulated sex, not the real deal. Give me a minute to figure this out.”

  He tried a few maneuvers. Nothing.

  “Maybe it’s the condom,” he said.

  “This isn’t working. Let’s forget the whole thing.” She tried to scramble out of his arms, but he held her locked in to place.

  In a rush of panic, she remembered why all this scared her. Even their silly fumbling, especially their silly fumbling, escalated the intimacy between them. They were sharing and caring and laughing together and it was all too much to handle.

  Charlee had thought that by getting naked with him, having sex and enjoying it, that she could sate her biological needs without involving her heart.

  She was wrong.

  And now she was embarrassed. She ducked her head.

  Mason crooked a forefinger under her chin and tugged her face upward, forcing her to look him in the eyes. He reached up and pushed back a strand of damp hair plastered against her cheek.

  “Talk to me.”

  “What?”

  “Something’s going on in that sharp little brain of yours. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m not thinking about anything.”

  “Liar.”

  “Okay, I was thinking I suck at this.”

  “You don’t.”

  “I do. I tried to seduce you and look.” She spread her hands. “I can’t even carry through.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not your seduction technique at fault here. It’s the hot tub. We could move. Try it again on the bed.”

  “I feel like an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot.” He leaned in and kissed the nape of her neck, softly feathering his fingertips over her skin.

  “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

  “Why? You like being miserable?”

  “No,” she said and smiled.

  “There you go. That’s my girl.”

  Then without any further discussion, Mason got out of the hot tub, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to bed.

  CHAPTER 15

  What was he doing? Their failur
e to make a connection in the Jacuzzi had given him an out. They hadn’t gone too far yet. He hadn’t crossed the line.

  Okay, he’d pulverized the line to dust, but theoretically, they hadn’t joined bodies so the line, however invisible, still remained uncrossed.

  But Charlee was in his arms, feeling wet and wonderful and smelling like heaven. He wanted her. And she’d wanted him. Sex between two consenting adults.

  Yeah, but you haven’t broken up with Daphne yet.

  A mere technicality, the pitchfork-toting devil on his shoulder assured him.

  Did Charlee really want to make love to him or was it simply the champagne, the excitement of their road adventures, and the thrill of winning the Newlywed Game motivating her? Mason didn’t want her doing anything she would regret later.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder, her long hair slapping wetly against his thigh as he moved. Strong feelings punted his gut. She looked so defenseless, so trusting.

  Until that moment with the spider, until she said she was bad in bed, he had believed her completely invincible. Until now, the way she handled herself told him she was a woman who didn’t need anyone.

  Forget rough, tough, street-talking Charlee. This woman cradled against his chest was quiet and amiable and susceptible.

  For the first time, she had really needed him and it made him feel big and strong and protective.

  Then, when he laid her carefully on the bed, and she looked up at him with those exotic green eyes glazed with desire, he just about came unraveled. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him tentatively, exploring the change.

  He kissed her back, holding nothing in reserve. He gave her every ounce of the passion that had been building inside him from the moment they’d met.

  She pressed herself against him, moaning softly, getting aroused all over again.

  God, he wanted her so badly he could barely breathe. He hadn’t been this shaken up about sex since that first time with Blair Sydney in the back of the Bentley.

  Take it easy. No hurry. You’ve got all night.

  He was dying to take her hard and fast and hot like she’d told him she wanted, but he would not. This felt too special. Too good to rush.

  No matter how much the ache in his groin was killing him, he was bound and determined to make this a night neither one of them would ever forget. He owed it to them both.

  He pulled back and gazed at her, his eyes tracing the lines of her body. Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. Not small and petite and delicate but a sturdy woman, strong and capable and substantial.

  She caught his eye and slowly ran a hand down her breasts over the flat of her belly to the soft curve of her inner thigh.

  “Mason,” she whispered his name. “I want you here.”

  Ah, hell.

  He leaped onto the bed beside her and promptly slid off the slick satin and crashed onto the floor.

  “Are you okay?” She leaned over the edge of the bed and peered down at him, mirth mingled with hot, frantic desire in her eyes.

  “Fine,” he mumbled.

  “You’re right, rich boy, there is an art to lying on satin. Unfortunately you don’t seem to know the trick any better than I.”

  “Being around you makes me forget every damned trick I ever learned.” He got to his feet and came back to bed.

  “Oh, ho.” She grinned when he crawled up beside her on the damp duvet.

  “When I’m around you, Charlee, I can’t think at all. You mess with my head, woman.”

  “In a good way or a bad way?”

  “I’ll let you figure that one out.” He straddled her body with his and pushed her back against the covers.

  For the first time in his life, Mason allowed his senses to run completely ungoverned, no holding back. He thrust his fingers through her hair, his skin exalting in the unfamiliar feel of her.

  He plundered her mouth and air rushed from her lungs in a red-hot blast. He felt her breath against his lips, tasted her sumptuous flavor.

  He didn’t think about the consequences. He didn’t think about his grandfather or the rest of his family or Daphne. He didn’t think about the men in the Malibu. He didn’t think about anything at all. He merely responded with every red-blooded masculine instinct inside him at the wonderfully erotic stimulus of kissing Charlee.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, spread her legs wide, and drew his body down on top of hers.

  He sank into her, sweet and deep.

  And then stopped, suddenly immobilized by the knowledge he wasn’t going to last five seconds. Mason closed his eyes tight, gritted his teeth, and struggled for control.

  Think baseball scores. Think accounts receivable, think about anything except how good it feels to be inside her.

  Charlee arched her pelvis against his. “Please,” she begged, “please.”

  She kissed him, hard and fierce, letting him know just how much she wanted him. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist and pulled him in deeper.

  He moved against her, the sound of their panting breaths filling his ears, the taste of her exploding in his mouth, the smell of her charming his nostrils with her fragrant womanly scent. He tried to savor the moment, to take it slow and to make it last despite Charlee’s whimpered urgings.

  But she was so hot and tight and sexy he knew he simply could not hold out for long.

  There’s always round two.

  She raked her fingernails over his back, wild to the core, and cried his name with escalating insistence.

  Faster he thrust. Harder. His body ached and throbbed and quivered for release.

  She met his rhythm, stroke for stroke. She bucked and writhed and wriggled in just the right way. Her breathing spread a thready heat across his shoulders, her muscles clenching him tighter and tighter still.

  Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes.

  Charlee’s eyes were open too and their gazes met in a moment of pure surprised wonder. Her pupils widened and he stared deep inside her.

  He felt as if he were slipping into an ageless abyss, dark and endless and wonderful. They made a connection far deeper than bodies joining.

  His heart chugged sluggishly in his chest. All sense of time disappeared. Seconds could have passed or centuries. It was just him and Charlee there together.

  Joined. One.

  Something changed. He saw the shift in her eyes just before she closed them.

  “Don’t stop,” she cried out and that’s when he realized in the marvel of the moment, he’d stopped moving. “Please, don’t stop.”

  She pounded lightly on his shoulders with her fists, urging him back into the tempo. “More,” she whimpered. “More.” She planted her feet on his buttocks and pulled him down to meet her thrusting pelvis.

  The magical mist evaporated and they were back to raw primal sex.

  He thrust and thrust and thrust. Giving it to her the way she wanted it. Hard and fast and hungry.

  Not long now. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

  But, he suspected, neither could she. They hung on the verge of climax together, both seeking that sweet physical release.

  Then she screamed his name low in her throat and her body went rigid. Her muscles gripped him and he knew she was coming.

  Just as he was coming.

  He felt the phenomenal energy rise up in both of them as they tumbled over the edge together and pulsation after pulsation clenched their bodies. Mason shuddered as a blinding, red-hot heat blasted up him in a splendid splurge.

  Gasping, they clung to each other as the last echoes of glorious ripples subsided. As they drifted down from the lofty heights of simultaneous orgasm, a rare headiness seeped through his spent limbs.

  He rolled to one side, drawing Charlee into his arms as he went. She rested her head against his shoulder, her warm breath tickling his chest hairs damp with their combined sweat.

  Like survivors of a siege they clung to each other, breathing in synchron
ized rhythm, happy to be alive and together. He didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

  He’d never felt this way with Daphne. Nor any of the other women he’d known. He’d never experienced such crazy, out-of-control feelings. Why was Charlee different? What was it about her that made him feel differently?

  Why, until now, had his past love relationships been more of a convenience than anything else? He had considered marrying Daphne because she was everything he had thought he’d wanted. Polished, accomplished, with all the right connections and credentials. Blueblooded and cultured and sophisticated.

  And the sex had been lousy.

  Nothing like this knock-your-socks-off romp.

  That’s it, Gentry. It’s the sex. That’s why it feels different with Charlee. Apparently, stupendous sex mucked up a man’s thinking.

  Charlee awoke sometime later and lay awestruck in Mason’s arms. She’d never experienced anything like what they had just shared. She’d had good sex before, sure, but nothing like this mind-blowing, toe-curling, explosive crescendo.

  Mason’s breathing lulled her and she tried her best to stay wrapped in the warm romantic afterglow of post coital bliss for as long as she could, but eventually, reality reared its ugly head.

  She had to go to the bathroom.

  Regretfully, she slipped from his arms and out of bed. Once her feet hit the floor, she turned to gaze over her shoulder at him.

  He was already asleep. Poor dear. Plumb tuckered out. After a performance like that, he deserved to sleep uninterrupted for a week.

  This had been a first for her. Mindless, uncontrolled sex merely for the sake of mindless, uncontrolled sex. She felt cleansed, purified. Reborn.

  Charlee grinned. This having sex for sex’s sake wasn’t half bad. She liked using a man to sate her physical desires while keeping her heart cleanly out of the fray. That was the ticket. Have sex with your eyes open and your mind locked down tight.

  It had worked. She didn’t feel that same agonizing tug of anxiety she had experienced after giving Gregory her virginity. No nagging questions like: why doesn’t he take me out in public or introduce me to his parents? With her exlover she had waited for the other boot to drop, repeatedly wondering when he would realize she wasn’t good enough for him.