Page 35 of Choosing the right Man

He easily lifts me into his arms and locks his lips to mine again. I gasp as he strides through the suite. I barely comprehend the feel of the bed beneath me when he lays me on it. I need to stop what’s happening, but I can’t.

He kisses me long and hard. I’m on my back, and he’s leaning over me, half his body on me but leaving room for his hand to trail down the center of my chest, over my stomach, and flutter over my burning core. I don’t try to stop him.

“Make love to me, Chloe,” he says, trailing his lips across my jaw and down my neck, sucking the skin. I groan, trying to come to terms with what’s happening.

“No.” But even as I say the word, I cling to him, not ready to let this end.

“Then I’m going to show you what it’ll be like when you say yes,” he says.

I don’t know what this means. But he’s suddenly ripping my shirt and bra from me. I don’t stop him. His mouth moves from my throat to my chest, his kisses circling my nipples, making them throb as they peak, seeking the heat from his mouth. He teases me for long moments before his mouth finally clamps down over one sensitive bud.

He sucks, and my back arches off the bed. I want to say yes, want him to keep going. I want to let it all go and allow him to love me. I want to touch him, take him in my mouth, and suck him as he’s sucking me. I want it all.

He moves to my other breast as his hand slides over my pants, and he cups my pulsing core. He wiggles his fingers on the outside of the material while he sucks hard on my nipples. Pressure is building.

“Mason,” I moan, so turned on I don’t care about anything but finding the pleasure he’s promising. “Mason, please...” I don’t know what I’m begging for.

He moves up my body, and his lips take mine again as he lies over me. He’s fully clothed, and I’m wearing nothing but a thin pair of pants. I easily feel his hardness between my legs. He begins pumping against me as his tongue slides into my mouth.

I push against him, the pressure still building, then he reaches between us and pinches my nipple as he thrusts against me. I explode. Shock runs through me as I shake beneath him, the orgasm so strong I’m grateful I’m lying down.

He slows the caress of his lips on mine as he shifts, taking some of his weight away. He squeezes my nipple once more before laying his palm flat on my sensitive flesh. My heart thunders beneath his fingers as I float back to earth.

He breaks his mouth from mine and I slowly open my eyes, looking at him. His gaze bores into me. He looks wild, like an animal on the prowl. I don’t know how he maintains such composure — such control.

“If you say yes, the next time will be so much better,” he promises, his voice agonized.

“I... that...” I inhale, trying to find the right words. “I should help you,” I finally spit out, hating it when I feel color sliding into my cheeks. He smiles before leaning down and kissing me again.

“You will when you’re ready,” he assures me. He’s incredibly hard and turned on, but he isn’t pressuring me. I don’t know what this means. He’s not currently acting like the player I’ve assumed he is this whole time I’ve known him.

I don’t stop him when he rises from the bed. He steps away but stands gazing at me for long moments. I want to cover myself, feeling so raw and naked. But I also feel beautiful. He desires me. He hurts because of me. I’m so close to saying yes.

“Not tonight,” he says once again, reading my mind. “I want you to think about this, and the next time when you come to me, I don’t want there to be a shadow of a doubt this is right, no matter what the rest of the world says.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer him. He turns and walks from the room. I hear the door close a couple of seconds later. I don’t move from where he left me. I don’t think I’ll be able to. I also don’t sleep.

I spend the entire night aching. Even though he gave me an orgasm that was better than anything I’ve had in years, I still feel empty. By the time morning arrives, the only regret I have is that I haven’t made love to him.

I now know I will. I just don’t know when.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mason

Chloe doesn’t belong here, not in the flashing neon light, not in the cacophony of clinking glasses and slot machines spitting out coins. She stands on the casino floor, lost in a sea of strangers, her eyes scanning the room like she isn’t sure if she should stay or run. She should run.

She should flee from me, even though I won’t allow it to happen. She doesn’t flee when I move up to her. There’s nowhere she can go that’s far enough anyway. I’m the hunter, and I’m not giving up, not for an instant. I want her, and I don’t let go of what I want.

I prowl toward her, cutting through the crowd with purpose. She hasn’t seen me yet, her fingers grazing over the stem of a half-finished cocktail. She’s breathtaking — dark waves spilling over her bare shoulders, her little black dress hugging every curve I ache to claim. When she finally looks up, her breath catches, the rising of her chest making my ache grow.

“Mason,” she whispers, my name barely audible over the noise of the casino.

“Come with me,” I demand, my voice husky and urgent. She looks as if she wants to argue.

I don’t give her a chance. My hand wraps around her wrist, and she lets me lead her through the casino, through the chaos, past rows of dealers flipping cards and desperate gamblers chasing dreams they’ll never possibly reach.

Chloe is nothing like these people. She’s one-of-a-kind. Her fate was already sealed the moment our eyes locked.

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