Page 169 of Promise Me Not

Payton

Now,November

We leftthe cemetery just before dark, and while Sarah had originally asked if I’d come back for dinner, I had to call and let her down. The day was too heavy, and I just want to be with my boys. Chase ended up taking Sarah’s offer to sleep in Nate’s old room, but Mason booked us a room at the little hotel a couple of blocks away.

It’s a little after nine now, and we’re just stepping into the hotel room, Deaton in my arms and the playpen in Mason’s.

He makes quick work of setting it up, laying the last blanket across the bottom as I approach, and I gently lay Deaton down.

He twists instantly, curling up into a little ball, and Mason eases his favorite blanket over him.

Smiling, I turn toward my bag, but Mason’s palm presses to my hip.

He pushes until I’m facing him completely, and then he shuffles closer, forcing me backward, and he doesn’t stop until my back hits the wall, his fingers locking tight against my skin.

My mouth opens, but he shakes his head.

“No,” he whispers, his tone husky, his focus on my mouth, so I snap it closed, and his twitches in the corner. “That’s right, Pretty Little,” he rasps, his thumb stretching under my chin and tipping my neck up and to the side. “I’m calling all the shots tonight.” He dips forward, and I shiver when he runs his nose up my neck. “I’ve waited so fucking long to have you in my hands.” His palm slides along my ribs, past my hips until he’s squeezing my ass in his strong hand. He groans, and my chest inflates with a sharp inhale. “And I’ll be damned if I don’t take time now that you are.” His teeth meet my jaw, and I grip his shoulders. “I’m gonna fix you a bubble bath, baby.” His head lifts, and he kisses me hard on the lips, hissing as he tears away, his forehead pressing to mine. “And you’re not getting out until you’ve come at least twice.”

He shoves off the wall, disappearing around the corner, and I’m left a panting, melting mess.

I drop my head against the wall, my body coming to life at his words, graphic images flashing through my mind and making me shake with anticipation.

“Payton.”

I jump, my smile breaking free as I follow after him, stepping around the corner and watching as he takes special care, testing the water of the giant, egg-shaped tub. It’s a double spout, so it begins to fill quickly. Mason tears open a small package and dumps the contents into the steamy water. Instantly, hints of lavender fill the air, and then he squeezes some body wash in, and I watch as bubbles start to rise to the water’s surface.

He steps back, looking at it for a long moment before spinning to face me. “It’s not perfect, but it will do for tonight.”

“It’s more than enough,” I whisper.

“It’s not.” He comes closer, his fingers grasping the hem of my sweater. “I’ll be better prepared next time.”

“I love that there’s a next time.”

“Mmm,” he moans in agreement, lifting my shirt over my head in one swift move. His eyes hit mine, and he presses into me. “Tonight, I’m going to love you,” he promises. “Tomorrow, I’m going to ruin you, and the day after that?” His voice drops ten octaves, and he tugs my lower lip between his teeth. “Baby, the day after that…I’m going to punish you a little.” He bites a bit harder, making me gasp, and then he’s swooping in on my chest, licking across the sweep of my breast as he reaches behind, undoing the clasp on the first try. “How does that sound, my sweet girl?”

“Yes.” It’s all I can say, but he needs no other words.

Mason slides my bra down my arms, and I tremble when his fingertips purposefully apply pressure on their descent.

I start to shake, and he pulls back, his eyes finding mine before lowering to my exposed breast for the first time. He sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, and my pulse jumps as he lowers to one knee, those dark, decadent eyes on me as he brings his mouth to my nipple.

I keep my eyes on his, unable to break the spell he has me under, and when his tongue lashes along my nipple, I cry out.

His pupils blow wide, and he groans, quickly moving to the other side and pulling back, watching in satisfaction as my nipples turn to sharp beads. “So fucking perfect,” he rasps, palms gliding lower.

He skims them along my soft stomach, and I wait for the self-conscious part of me to kick in, but it never comes.

My body isn’t what it was before my pregnancy. It’s thicker now, softer, but he doesn’t seem to care. Quite the opposite in fact.

He worships my curves, kissing my flesh and biting at my skin as his fingers slip into the waistband of my leggings. His heated eyes find mine, and ever so slowly, he tugs them down, tearing them off my body until I’m standing bare before him.

Seeing him in front of me, on his knees with a fire in his eyes, is almost too much.

It’s too much yet nowhere near enough, as, like him, I’ve waited for this, too.

Reaching out, I run my hand through his dark hair, and his eyes drift closed for a moment, his chest rumbling.

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