The streets have been plowed, but our driver still takes his sweet time on the drive back to LoDo. For some reason I’m agitated, glancing at my phone every so often as if hoping a new text from Nina will materialize in response to mine letting her know we’re stopping at home to change before heading over to the hospital. I even asked if she wanted us to pick up food, but she still hasn’t responded. I wish I knew how to shake this irrational sense of dread, of feeling like the situation is spinning out of my control.
Mason reaches out and takes my hand, extracting my phone and stowing it in his jacket pocket. “She’s fine. They’re both fine. You said so yourself. If I can survive a bullet to the chest, I have no doubt Booth can handle one in the shoulder.”
“You are an outlier, I hope you realize that.” I shoot him a glance that’s half-irritated, half-grateful for the distraction.
He half-shrugs. “Still. Where’d this bundle of nerves come from, and what can I do to help?”
“I just . . . this thing about Mom is a lot to process. It’s a pretty big secret on her part, but we haven’t exactly been the best at sharing ever since my brother died. Having a friend who was actually shot today, and that whole ordeal . . .” I groan, unable to find the words to articulate the weird buzz inside me.
“The adrenaline’s still pumping through you. Your fight or flight instincts are still in high gear. It’ll be a little while before you come down. You seemed fine ten minutes ago when you slammed me against the wall, though. A pretty sexy move.”
I snort a laugh. “Yeah, well, you were kissing me then. Your mouth can pretty much make me forget all my worries.”
“I hoped that was the answer,” he says, then slips his arm around me and pulls me close. His mouth finds mine when I tilt up, already more than willing to give in to his offer of a fresh distraction.
27 Callie
When I submit to the delicious warmth that floods me from his kiss, the agitated buzz fades into the background. He cups my cheek, thumb drifting lazily over my jaw, then drifts his hand beneath my jacket. He palms my breast, squeezing, but my sweater is too thick for much sensation.
I press tighter to him, hooking my leg over his as I do my own exploring, more than happy to lean into this escape. His shirt is still damp from all the melted snow, but when I slide my hand beneath, I find warm, hair-dusted skin. His belly tightens beneath my fingertips and he growls low against my mouth, but his hips shift ever so slightly toward my touch, so I take it as an invitation.
The button of his jeans comes free easily, and I slip my hand down the front of his snow-damp shorts. Inside, blazing heat and velvety soft skin meet my still chilled fingertips. It’s almost a reflex to slip my hand farther down, sliding over his length, then gripping him gently.
I pull back from the kiss to gauge his response and am greeted with half-lowered eyelids and parted lips. A small hiss passes between his teeth when I squeeze, giving him a slow, tight stroke.
The confines of his pants make it difficult to maneuver, and I glance at the back of our driver’s head, contemplating going further. The driver is engrossed in navigating the snowy roads and doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the activities in his back seat. We might have time, but we might not.
I settle for another kiss, leaning in and pressing my lips against his. I flick my tongue over and between his lips, not quite letting him kiss me back. I suck his lower lip between mine, working it between my lips and teasing at it with my tongue. He has a truly delicious mouth, which I realize I haven’t spent enough time enjoying in this very basic fashion. I miss his beard, though; the bristles added another layer of sensation to our tryst on the plane, but there’s still not a damn thing wrong with his mouth.
I kiss him deeper and his cock throbs in my hand. I squeeze back, enjoying the low groan he emits into our kiss.
His warm hand finds its way beneath my sweater and he tugs my bra down to free one breast, the constraint of the elastic forcing it up and forward. My nipple brushes tantalizingly against the fabric of my thermal shirt until his fingertips get in between. An involuntary gasp escapes me when he begins teasing at my nipple, and I squeeze harder around his thick erection in response.
I almost don’t notice when the car finally stops at the freshly plowed curb in front of Mom’s building. In a daze, we stumble out and through the doors inside, holding our coats closed to conceal our displaced clothing.
The lobby is irritatingly busy, and we’re forced to share an elevator with a few other residents. Partway up the interminable ride, Mason slips his hand into mine and squeezes. I glance up at him, but despite the oddly misplaced comfort of his grip, his eyes still hold that unmistakable expression of lust that makes my adrenaline spike in an entirely pleasurable way. My only impulse is to climb him like a tree. His cheeks are as flushed as mine feel, and I have the distinct impression that if we were alone in the elevator at this moment, he’d let me do just that.
At the door I fumble with the key in the lock, finding it even more difficult a feat to manage with him pressed up against me from behind, his breath and lips hot against my neck. I’m a little bit frightened at how each time we ramp up like this, he seems to be even more demanding and insistent.
The key slides home,
