Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) (6 page)

His head tipped back and his arm crossed over his chest like a shield as he roared with laughter. “Since when have you given a shit with what’s appropriate? Sugar, you fucking kill me.”

“Fuck you!” she spit out, striking his forearm with the back of her hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Mason said, reaching round her and grabbing an apple from the basket at the back of the counter. His chest pushed to her back and she heard him breathing in her scent before he sauntered off.

From the corner of her eye she could see him playing with his computer. “Orange chicken and wild rice?” she called out.

“Sounds good,” he said, as casually as he could muster.

Staring at the screen of the laptop, he attempted to appear unaffected by her presence. But if he stood the affect she was having on his libido would be quite apparent as his cock pressed along the inseam of his jeans and threatened to split it wide open. From where he sat, he had full view of the kitchen area and every move Mikala made. Happy that she was turned away he stirred in his seat and adjusted himself.

Lowering his head so he was hidden behind the screen and she could stop distracting him, he cruised through the list of inventory held in his warehouse. Chase had emailed the clubs layout and gave Mason free reign to make the premises as secure as he felt was necessary. Fort Knox wouldn’t be safe enough in his opinion when it came to Mikala.

Overkill, he thought running his hand through his hair and cracking his neck from side to side. It wasn’t Trump Towers after all, it was a basic four lever adjoined structure with a front and rear entrance and private stairs to the apartment.

“Dinner,” Mikala called.

Instead of setting the table, two places were set at the island side by side. Mason stood back and watched as Mikala set down a pepper shaker and sat. He made a move toward the cupboard and she pointed a warning finger in his direction, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he asked, with an air of innocence.

“No salt.”

Ignoring her, he opened the cupboard door and rummaged through a variety of spice shakers, he narrowed his eyes and glared.

“I threw it out. You know you’re not supposed to use it.”

He plunked his butt on the stool beside her and growled at the contents on his plate. “Who are you, my fucking mother?” he asked, caustically.

“Excuse me for giving a shit.”

Hiding his obvious elation behind a scowl, he wasn’t sure if she realized her slip, the open admittance to caring for him.

Mason stabbed his fork and knife into his chicken breast with all the grace of a football player in steel toed boots performing the male lead in Swan Lake. He stared straight ahead stuffing his face while Mikala shuffled her meal around on her plate, something she did when she was upset. A habit that Mason was well aware of, a trick she had used to make it look like she was eating something and all the while she barely ate a bite.

“Can we call a fucking truce?” Mason asked, taking her hand and removing the fork from her grasp, “This isn’t going to work if we can’t get along for five minutes.”

“I guess I can give you five minutes.”

He pinched her chin between his thumb and fingers and scowled, “Truce..?”

Mikala’s heart was racing, she could feel his pulse from the tips of his fingers on her jaw and he was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. The smell of him, the sound, the sight, she would need more than a truce. She would need a god damn fortress erected to block all her sense.

“Well, sugar?” he asked, allowing his hand to slide down her neck. He thrilled at the way it felt to hold her dominantly. It had been a long, long time since he had touched her at all, let alone sexually. He released her before she answered.

She picked up her fork and waved it dangerously in his face, “You stick to the rules and we have a deal.”

Neither one of them finished their meals as an uneasy pressure dangled in the air. Truth be told, it was a dangerous case of sexual tension squeezing tighter by the minute. Mikala shoved her plate away and Mason started to clean up, anything to create a distance.

Mikala watched Mason finish up the dishes while she sipped on a glass of wine he had handed her without asking. Each muscle in his back rippled, loosened and tightened deliciously and each time he bent over to put something away, Mikala ogled his gluteus maximus with absolute appreciation. She always admired his ass; it was the kind of ass that filled out a pair of jean beautifully and thoughts of touching, licking and biting it had her near breathless.

It was awkward as neither of them spoke, each wishing for an escape not because they wanted to get away from each other, but because they wanted nothing more than to be
together
.

“If you want more wine you know where it is. I have some work to do,” Mason announced. He took a beer from the fridge and got comfortable at his computer.

He spent a few hours working out a rough floor plan for new cameras and a trip system for the stairs, also a silent alarm system of colorful lasers he had designed, but hadn’t had the opportunity to use. Acting as a deterrent, a road block of sorts, the beams would be extremely visible to a would-be robber stopping them before they started with less damage in the long run. Mason was in the midst of selling the idea to insurance companies, although the cost factor was preventing his idea from launching, people just couldn’t see past the almighty buck to the safety considerations.

The apartment was dark except for the glow from the computer, the green banker’s desk lamp on Mason’s desk and the LED screen in the living area. He opened the fridge and grabbed another beer, twisted the cap off and stood against the counter watching Mikala sleeping on the couch. She had pulled the afghan from the back and cocooned it around her. All he could see were her face and a bare foot dangling over the edge of the couch.

As crazy a situation as it was, it almost felt like home. The two of them together there in the loft, it was home. Not that long ago all had been right in the world. He would often work well into the night and she would fall asleep in front of the TV, then he’d carry her to bed and make love to her when she woke with a sleepy smile. Many a night she came in late from the club and woke him naked with a cheeky grin. He chugged back his beer and adjusted his semi hard-on and walked over to where she lay.

“Time for bed, sugar,” he whispered, lifting her easily into his arms. He carried her up the stairs to the hideaway and tucked her under the sheets. Her brows knit together and he watched her rustle under the covers until she manipulated the sheets just so and her foot peeked over the mattresses edge. He smiled walking away when he heard his name.

“Goodnight, Mason,” she whispered, and rolled facing away.

“Sleep tight, sugar.”

He lay in bed watching her foot picturing his tongue stroking across the arch and working his way up her thigh trying to recall the taste of her.  He ran his hand through his hair frustrated that somehow he’d forgotten. What he would give for just one more taste. He closed his eyes willing the night to do its job and deliver him into peaceful slumber.

Light streaked across the room with an unmistakably bright sunny day in the prospects, when Mason opened his eyes. The clock said eight as he dragged his ass out of bed and onto the floor for a few sets of sits-ups, push-ups and much needed stretches.

Hanging upside down from the bar at the top of his home gym, he wiped away a layer of sweat as his eyes followed a towel wrapped Mikala as she padded up the stairs to the hideaway, her hair wet from her shower. Even from the inverted view she looked like an inviting breakfast and his stomach growled to match his state of sexual frustration.

A flash of soft blue terry towel material tumbled to the ground and Mason nearly fell from his perch, when he was awarded with a picture-perfect view of the most impeccable buttocks on the planet. Each globe round and full and tempting, he had to grab onto his cock and squeeze it hard after he dropped to the floor. Today he was surely going to die. A man could only go for so long without sex and survive.

Turning the tap to cold he stood under the spray with his eyes clamped tight, hoping against hope for the images of Mikala’s naked body to fade away. He needed the relentless teasing that was causing his cock to stand at constant attention since seeing her outside the club the night of the fire, to stop.

“You want eggs?” Mikala’s voice called out as he turned to see her standing in the doorway. His eyes darted to his unmistakable erection and she asked with a snicker, “boiled, poached or scrambled?”

“Surprise me,” he answered, turning his back and hearing the door close.

Mikala cracked a dozen eggs into a bowl and whisked them continually, while she recalled the surprise she got after intentionally walking into the washroom and witnessing Mason’s glorious morning wood. He was very well endowed, god had blessed the man, she had forgotten just how blessed he was. The thickness of him she remembered with a smile and the feel of him buried inside her. A shudder ran down her spine as a moan escaped her lips. It had been far too long without the touch of a man, not that the opportunity hadn’t arisen; there just wasn’t anyone she felt that kind of desire for. No other man compared to Mason Reed. She was afraid no one ever would.

Once the eggs and English muffins were ready, she set out the plates at the side by side setting from last evening and waited until Mason came in and joined her.

“Don’t wait for me, sugar, eat,” he ordered, bringing over the carafe of coffee and pouring them each a cup.

Her mouth opened for a second before closing again, she would relinquish the ‘sugar’ thing and drop him a bone. After all it wasn’t the worst thing he could call her and it did do things to her lady parts that she liked. Following his order she scooped up a forkful of scrambled eggs and plopped it into her mouth.

“Great eggs,” Mason smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Am I allowed ketchup Mom?” he asked, with a cheeky grin.

Her eyes rolled as she pushed from her chair and got the ketchup bottle from the fridge. She held out the bottle and as it passed into his grip their fingers made a lightning strike connection. A spark shocked them both and they laughed. A tiny bit of built up tension broke and they enjoyed a quiet breakfast.

“Got plans for today, anything you need help with?” Mason asked, while they shared the cleanup.

“I was hoping to go shopping but Eden’s busy with meetings all day, probably a good thing, I can hear my credit card screaming already, ” she said, running her hand along the neckline of his t-shirt she wore, “I need clothes though, most of my stuff was burned and what wasn’t has to be dry-cleaned. Hopefully they can remove the smell of smoke.”

“I can take you,” Mason offered, “I’m not meeting Chase until two, so most of my day is free. I just need to drop by the warehouse and reserve a few items and then I’ll be all yours.”

“I can go alone. I don’t want to be a bother,” she faded off, as Mason held up his hand to quiet her.

“You’re scared I’ll get too close, scared I’ll read something into a day of shopping in ladies apparel,” he joked. “Give me a fucking break. It’s just two friends going shopping together, nothing more. Besides you’ll need someone strong to carry all your packages.”

Her scowl turned to a smile. “Okay. You better wear comfortable shoes.”

“I’m on it. We’ll take the truck if that’s okay with you.”

“Probably a good idea, I’ll meet you down there,” she laughed as they moved in opposite directions across the loft.

***

Mason sent a quick text to Chase, as he sat on the tailgate of the truck waiting for Mikala to finish up in the lingerie shop, since his libido was in overdrive today and he couldn’t deal with the sight of lace and silk in any form. Time had gotten away from him and it was nearing two, Mason hated to be late.

With Mik going to be late want to meet for a late lunch?

Sounds great meet me at ORs bring Mik with you.

Will do, see you soon.

The sound of a bell from the shop’s doorway binged and Mason jumped from the tailgate to help put her many packages in the backseat. He held open the passenger door and resisted the urge to plant his palms against the sweet cheeks of her ass and hoist her inside.

“Chase wants to meet us at O’Rourke’s.”

“Us?” she asked.

“Sorry! You and me,” he rolled his eyes, “Better?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she scowled, as he lazily shrugged his shoulders. “At times you can be such a dick.”

Instant regret tightened across his chest at yet another of his wonderful fuck ups. “Fuck! I didn’t mean…truce, fucking truce…” he said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Just drive,” she waved him away, watching as he quickly rounded the truck and climbed in.

He started the truck and pulled into traffic, the drive was short, a relief to them both. When they walked into the pub they both breathed a collective sigh at the sight of Chase sitting at the table waiting.