It took one second. That’s all I needed before I knew who she was. Marissa. Even thinking that name was like a punch in my gut. I looked at Mason, leaned back against the wall, and crossed my arms over my chest. “What the fuck is Marissa doing here?”
He ran a hand over his face and cursed. “She was wasted at Cliché.”
“She’s not wasted now.” My blood was starting to boil. “I want her gone.”
He held his hands up, backing away. “I’ll take care of it. Promise.” Pausing in front of that door, he glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m not leaving.”
“I know. I just…” A small grin appeared and he raked his gaze over my face, lingering on my lips. “I’m happy you’re here.”
Oh fuck. My blood went down to a simmer at the look in his eyes. I rolled my eyes. “I want her gone, Mason.”
“I know. I know.” He knocked on the door and braced his hand against the doorframe. As he did, his back muscles bunched together and my mouth went dry. I skimmed down his back, to his lean waist, and saw the boxers he was still wearing. They were black and molded to his ass. I wet my lips. An ache started between my legs, and I pressed them together. It’d been too long since I felt him, since he held me in his arms, since I felt his lips against my skin. I closed my eyes shut. He was getting ready to kick her out of the house, and all I wanted to do was jump him. Leaning back against the wall, I moved my hand to touch the plaster. The cool feel of it helped some reality sink in, only a tiny bit.
He knocked again. “Marissa?”
Waves of longing and yearning crashed down on me. I blinked, shaking my head. I heard her say through the door, “Is Sam still there?”
Wait. Here came the anger, tangling with need to feel him inside me. Mason lifted his head, looked at me, and paused. His gaze met mine, and he saw the tornado whirling in me. His eyebrows lifted, and he straightened from the wall. “You okay?”
I tried to shake my head. I couldn’t talk, and my neck muscles were stiff. My chin moved just slightly. I choked out, “Leave her.”
He nodded, reaching out to me. As his hand touched my arm, I shivered. His thumb rubbed over my skin, and I bit down on my lip. A groan escaped me. As it did, as I tried to swallow it, I couldn’t look away from him. He was having the same reaction. As he heard my groan, his eyes darkened and he went back to watching my lips. Pulling me to him, he bent his forehead to mine, and murmured, “My roommate’s in there.”
I shook my head. I didn’t care, and losing the will over my own body, I pressed against him. He was hard. Feeling the bulge, my eyes closed. I moved against him, pressed my hips into his, and rubbed against him.
“Sam.” His voice was hoarse. “Shit. Okay.” Taking my hand, we went back into his room and through it to the bathroom. Once inside, he lifted me onto the counter and shut the door. It was locked and he hit the switch so the fan turned on.
I shook my head. That wouldn't be loud enough.
Groaning, he peeled away from me and went to the shower. It was turned on at full force, and he came back to me. I watched him, my mouth open, dry, and my heart pounded. I just wanted him in me. I wanted to feel his body pressed over mine as he moved in and out.
He stood in front of me, and his eyes drank me in with a stark look of need. I swallowed and began panting. I spread my legs, beckoning him, but his gaze trailed over me, down my front, lingering on my breasts, dropping to my waist. A look of fierce concentration came over him and his chest lifted. Holding still, his hand went to my leg. He grabbed hold of me, then moved between my legs. I started to wind them around him, but he shook his head. Gazing at my lips, he said, “No.” His hand lifted to my bottom lip, his eyes smoldering. He bent forward, his breath a caress over my skin as he said, “I love you so goddamn much.”
Reaching up, I grabbed the back of his head. My fingers fisted chunks of his hair, and I said, “Fuck me.”
A tender expression came over him, but he grinned and leaned down to touch his lips to mine. I sighed at the feel of them, just there, resting on mine. I waited, but he didn’t apply pressure. I needed that pressure, so I pressed up against him. I felt Mason holding back. Fuck that. My other hand grabbed the front of his boxers and I yanked him to me, scooting myself forward at the same time. We were pressed so tight together, he was almost in me. He was pressing right at my opening. I grinded against him, panting into his mouth.
He was trembling. His hand was still bracing himself against the counter. I ripped my mouth away.
His eyes were trained on my lips. His other hand ran down the side of my face, sweeping over my cheek, then my throat. It trailed all the way down until it rested between my breasts. “This, Sam. This is mine. This is what you have of mine too.” A look of love swept over him, filling his eyes, and he softened. I froze as that look raced through me, taking the world away. It was me and him. Right then. Right there. The emotion so damn thick in me, I murmured, “Mason.”
He shook his head, his forehead resting against mine. “You, Sam. I love you. Only you. When I’m not with you, I survive. When I’m with you, I live.”
“Mason.” Tears were running down my face. “I love you so goddamn much too.”
He nodded, touched his lips to mine again, and bent down to slide his hands underneath me. I was picked up from the counter and taken into the shower. He backed me up against the wall, still holding me upright, but it didn’t matter. My legs were wound so tight around him, I wasn’t going to fall. Running my hands over him, over his jaw, over his shoulders, down his chest, then back up to his face again, I opened my mouth to his. His tongue slid inside, meeting mine, and the kisses turned into a battle: who was commanding who. I growled as his tongue brushed mine, sending a heated frenzy through me.