It’s violent and vital, exactly how a kiss should feel, with greedy hands and pounding hearts.
I drop my clutch and hold him against me, tilting my head to deepen this, to give him more as I plead for it through whispered words, but the second my fingers tighten in his hair he breaks away.
His hands slide to my neck as he moves his lips to my cheek and keeps them there. “Goddamn, Brooke. It’s really fucking hard not kissing you,” he pants through ragged breaths, leaning back to gaze at me.
I give him an odd look as his hands slip away, and an even odder look when he turns around and leaves me lightheaded against the wall.
What the fuck?
With quick strides, Mason takes his sexy ass in the direction of the elevators, a hand disappearing around the front of him to no doubt adjust the stiff dick I just so rightly earned.
“Um . . . where are you going?” I call out, stepping away from the wall to get a better view of him continuing down the long hallway, to watch in complete shock as he puts more and more distance between us.
He was serious about leaving? No . . . no, he’s . . . no, that’s impossible. He can’t just leave.
Hello! Massive erection! Get back here! I’m supposed to be handling you!
He smiles at me over his shoulder as he bypasses the elevators. “Goodnight.”
My mouth falls open. I bring my hands to my hips as I think of a reasonable explanation for his swift departure, and it comes to me at the sound of his keys jingling. “You’re just going to move your car, right? Then you’re coming back up? You’re not actually leaving . . .”
He pushes the door open that leads to the stairwell, making no attempt to tell me I’m correct or to ask me if I’ll wait for him here or leave my door unlocked.
He’s actually leaving. He’s taking his hard dick and he’s actually leaving.
I take a few steps to follow behind him. “Is this a joke? Is this strictly an Australian thing, because here, in America, we don’t kiss the fuck out of someone and then haul ass in the opposite direction.”
I hear the faint sounds of a laugh echoing down the hall.
Before I can think to speak again, to yell out something else to possibly change his mind and end this madness, Mason steps out onto the stairwell.
“I’ll see you later, gorgeous,” he calls out before the door slams closed, and I know, I just fucking know that gorgeous bastard is smiling as he says it.
“What the hell?” I ask myself, God, if he’s listening. Maybe he can shine some imperial light on this situation.
I snatch my clutch off the floor and fish out my keys, jamming them all too aggressively into the keyhole while I mumble every curse word I know into the deserted hallway. I shove the door open and toss my things onto the table behind the couch, kicking off my heels and moving like a bat out of hell across the room.
With a closed fist, I pound against the bedroom door until my skin grows hot.
“I need you both to put something on and get out here. Now. You will not believe what . . .” I cut myself off, shaking my head as I try and wrap my own mind around what just happened, but I have absolutely no idea what to think. I can’t even begin to make sense of this.
Mason passes on a Brooke style blow-job? NOBODY passes on that. Is he fucking mental?
With a very aggressive grunt, I drop my hand and stare at the door. “Just hurry up and get out here. Please. I need both of you.”
Muffled voices and the creak of a mattress sound before I feel satisfied enough to cross the room again.
I step into the kitchen and open the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of wine and digging the container of ice cream I keep hidden under bags of frozen vegetables out of the freezer.
Joey likes to eat his feelings also. If I don’t hide my snacks, they go missing.
I fill a glass and grab a spoon just as the bedroom door swings open.