I wouldn’t say I was embarrassed to face Mason; more like it was going to feel awkward. How was I supposed to act? He’d just fucked all sense out of me and all I could think about was him doing it all over again.
After rinsing off, I left the shower to dry off then dressed. I stepped up to the mirror and whipped the towel over my face to clean up the smeared mascara under my eyes. I looked like a hot mess, but that was to be expected after being fucked thoroughly.
I smiled to myself in the mirror at the thought and jumped in surprise as a knock sounded at the door.
“Emma?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in just a minute.”
I folded the towel I’d used and placed it on the counter. Then I picked up my discarded bra to shove into my bag before realizing I still had clothes on the floor in the bedroom I’d forgotten to pick up.
Sighing, I walked to the door and took a deep breath before I finally turned the knob and opened it. Mason stood by the bed wearing jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He looked mouth-watering. He met my gaze and all I could do was stare as need began to build again. I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop thinking about what had transpired with him if he was going to look at me the way he was right then, like he wanted to devour me again.
He averted his eyes, ran a hand through his wet hair and walked toward me. It took a moment for me to break eye contact and notice he was holding my clothes in his hand.
I could feel my cheeks heat as I grabbed for my clothes to stuff them into my bag. I knew this was going to feel awkward.
“I have Carlos downstairs waiting with the car to take you home.”
I looked up from my bag, confused. “Who?”
“My driver. He’ll be taking you home,” he said casually as he turned and walked toward the door.
He didn’t look back, as if he expected me to follow, so I did. The way he was acting was sending all kinds of bad vibes through my body. It seemed like he was trying to get rid of me as fast as possible. Which, maybe he was. I couldn’t think this was more than it actually was. This was a night of sex, plain and simple, but I’d thought it was so much more than that.
Leaving the room, I walked with my head lowered and made my way down the stairs. He waited for me by the front door with his hand on the knob, ready to send me on my way.
I stopped in front of him and waited for him to open the door, but when he didn’t move, I glanced up to meet his gaze. He looked me over, examining me as his jaw twitched and his brow furrowed. Then he opened his mouth as if to speak, but then clamped it shut before opening the door.
I looked out to see the car waiting then looked back at Mason. “You aren’t coming with?”
His eyebrows pinched together for only a moment before he gave me a stern, “No.”
I frowned at his response. I knew not to expect anything, but he was treating me like I was a whore he’d picked up off the street and it pissed me off.
“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Blake,” he said to me as he looked out to his driver, waiting for me by the back door of some black car.
Ms. Blake? I’m Ms. Blake now?
“Whatever,” I said under my breath as I walked out of the house. I could feel his eyes on me as I made my way to the car, but I wouldn’t look back at him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let him see the pained expression on my face. I was so mad, more at myself than anything. I felt stupid for giving in. Why did I do this to myself? I wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. I wanted to be wooed, romanced, and treasured. Not used and tossed out on the street.
As I approached the car, Carlos opened the back door for me and I slid into the seat. I wasn’t very comfortable with some man driving me home, but I trusted Mason wouldn’t send me off with someone untrustworthy, especially someone who worked for him. I couldn’t see Mason dealing with anything less than professionalism.
After Carlos got into the car, he put it in gear and drove off. I didn’t look toward Mason who I knew was still standing at the door. How could something so amazing feel so dirty? We had a connection. I felt it every time we were near each other, and I knew I wasn’t imagining things. I knew he’d felt it, too, but I could have been wrong. Either way, it didn’t mean anything. He’d told me he was only a one-night-stand kind of guy and after the way he’d just escorted me out of his house, I believed it.
*
I woke up the next morning to voices drifting from the kitchen and groaned as I lifted the blanket over my head to block out the sunlight. When I’d gotten home the night before I’d dropped myself on the couch, pulling the blanket from the top and laying it over my body before I fell fast asleep.
There was no way I’d slept more than three hours or else the headache which had taken up residence wouldn’t be banging in there to say hello.
Letting out a sigh, I begrudgingly rolled off the couch and made my way to the kitchen, praying there was some coffee.