Wrapped in You (10 page)

“My sister is the same. The difference is my parents encouraged us to be our own people.” He got another tray. “I bet Matilda dresses in cotton and simple clothing, kind of like a hippie nun.”

Frowning, Trudy stopped and stared at him. “How did you know?”

“Educated guess.”

She grabbed him by the apron. “Seriously, how did you know?”

“Because you’re the exact opposite.” He brushed at her hair. “You had to differentiate yourself from her so your parents would realize you weren’t like her. Unfortunately, they still didn’t get it.”

She crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you have a psychology degree.”

“I just know what it’s like to be the younger sibling of a forceful sister.” He sobered. “You’re pretty perfect yourself, you know.”

“You keep telling me that.” She looked down at the cookies.

“Because you are.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

She started to pull away, but he didn’t let her. Holding her firm, he made her face him. He made her face her feelings.

Her body wouldn’t let her turn away, even if he’d let go. Her body begged her for this moment of pleasure. It wanted more.

She wanted more, too, she admitted to herself, letting her arms wind around him.

His hands untied the apron and slipped under her sweater.

They both groaned as his palms slid up her back. He stopped when he reached her shoulder blades. “No underwear again?”

She shook her head.

He quickly tugged her apron off and pulled her sweater over her head. Then he inhaled and reverently murmured, “Sweet baby Jesus.”

Leaning back against the counter, she kept her arms wide and let him look all he wanted.

“I must have been a good boy this year.” He reached for her pants, undoing them and shimmying them down her legs. He muttered a curse as they caught on her boots, and then bent to help her take them off.

She looked down at his head, all the feelings mixing together, not unlike the dough they’d made. A little sweet, a little salty, mixing together in a mysterious way to make something delicious.

As long as it didn’t get ruined somehow.

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. Now was the time to taste and nibble and revel in how Mason made her feel.

Like she was the best gift in the world.

He stood and put his hands on hers, wide, his clothed body brushing her naked one as he bent his head to kiss her.

Her nipples tightened as they rubbed against his shirt, and she felt moisture pool between her legs. Untangling her hands from his, she pulled his shirt over his head so they were chest to chest.

He groaned as she rubbed her body against his. “I know this wasn’t one of the steps in the recipe, but it should have been.”

“I think it said to turn the heat on,” she murmured, kissing her way up his chest.

“You’re right.” He picked her up and set her on the counter. “See? You’re a natural in the kitchen.”

Before she could say anything, he dipped his fingers into her core.

She gasped, shocked by the electric glide of his fingertips on her flesh. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and her legs open.

His thumb rubbed back and forth. “Later, my tongue is going to do this,” he said, his voice husky. “I already know how you’ll taste though. Spicy and sweet, just like the cookies we made.”

Just like how she felt. She imagined his tongue on her, and she moaned. She wanted to tell him to do it—she would have begged—but she couldn’t do anything but feel.

His fingers left her.

She opened her eyes and watched him pull out a condom from his pocket. He smiled. “I was a Boy Scout,” he said as he unzipped his pants and covered himself. One hand bracing her lower back, he used the other to guide himself into her.

They both groaned, watching him glide in slowly. She propped her hands behind her, not caring when one of them landed on the uncooked cookies.

He began to touch her again, his thumb fluttering over her as he moved in and out of her.

“Move faster,” she urged, lifting her hips for more.

“No.”

She frowned at him. “No?”

He shook his head. “Next time we’ll do it as fast as you like. This first time I want to feel every little bit of you. Settle in for the ride, darling.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

What was she thinking? She shook her head, laughing a little at herself. “Okay. If you insist.”

“I really do.” He grinned at her and then licked one of her nipples. He must have liked it, because he did it again and again, alternating between the two.

She hissed, her fingers curling. “I should warn you that the ride will be really short if you keep that up.”

He laughed, his breath warm against her skin. “We’ll just go for another ride,” he said, diving into her.

His teeth rasped her skin, and sweat broke out on her forehead.

“Trudy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not going to last for a long ride either.” His thumb worked her faster, in rhythm with his thrusts. He groaned again, bracing her hips as he stood straight and gazed into her eyes.

It was very intimate, the way he watched her. She wanted to close her eyes, to keep a semblance of privacy.

He shook his head as if he knew what she was thinking. “Look at me, darling. Let me see you come.”

She felt his words between her legs, her muscles tightening. He deepened his strokes, his thumb pressing her in the right spot.

It started at her core and spread throughout her body in one sharp wave. Crying out, her head fell back of its own accord but she kept his gaze.

His eyes narrowed, glazed with passion. He slowed, as though savoring every ripple he felt go through her. Then he groaned her name, his fingers gripping her hip. She felt him harden even more and knew he was going to come, and that made the waves crest all over again.

Mason slumped against her, his forehead against hers. His chest heaved against hers, and his hands held her close. His eyes were shut so she couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind, if anything.

There was
a lot
going on in her mind—not that she could pick one coherent thought out from the jumble.

“Stop that,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Just enjoy this moment.”

She nodded. Only then her gaze fell on the dress box again and she stiffened all over. This was all nice, but in the end he’d want something different than she was. Everyone always did. Even Jon couldn’t accept her just the way she was.

She swallowed her disappointment and pasted a smile on her face. “You know what I want?”

He lifted his head. “What?”

“A ninja cookie.”

“I think I can help you with that.” Mason’s smile was heartbreakingly sweet. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then slowly pulled out of her.

She watched as he threw away the condom and cleaned himself up. Hopping off the counter, she washed the cookie dough off her palm and reached for her pants.

“No, you’re good as you are.” Mason picked up her apron and held it out. “Just put this on.”

She arched her brow. “Kinky.”

He grinned as he wrapped his apron back around his waist. “That’s exactly how I’d describe myself.”

Shaking her head, she did the same. They put the mangled cookies in the oven and baked them. As they waited, he took out a bottle of wine. “How do you feel about Indian food?”

“I love it.” She tipped her head. “Why?”

“I thought I’d order some for us for dinner. Maybe around six or seven?”

She glanced at the clock on the oven. “It’s only two.”

He nodded as he poured a glass and handed it to her. “Maybe you’ll help me pass the afternoon somehow.”

As she inhaled the wine’s bouquet, she glanced at the unopened box again. She should cut and leave. She was getting in over her head.

Before she could say anything, the timer dinged. Mason took the cookies out of the oven and showed them to her. “A few casualties of war, but most of the ninjas came out intact. Shall we take the picture?”

“Yes.” She set the wine down and searched for her phone in the tangle of her clothes on the floor. Then she realized what she was wearing—or rather, everything she wasn’t wearing.

“I’ll take it from the neck up,” Mason said, handing her a ninja as he took her phone.

“Okay.” She bit off the ninja’s head and held her middle finger up.

Laughing, Mason took the photo. Then he stepped back and took a photo of all of her.

“Hey!” She frowned, hands on her hips. “You said you weren’t doing that.”

“It’s for me.” He tapped a few times at her phone and then handed it back. “I texted it to myself. I’ll delete it if you really want, but I’d like nothing more than to have a souvenir of today.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the best cookie baking day ever,” he said with feeling.

She froze, aware of the dress box so close by. “I thought that was with your grandmother.”

“This overtakes baking with Grandma.” He held her hand up and bit the ninja’s leg from her hand. Then he smiled. “I think she’d be happy about that.”

Chapter Seven