As I regained my sanity, Mason treated me to sweet, lingering kisses everywhere on my body, letting his mouth roam. Once he was back on his feet, he murmured, “Jump up,” in my ear, as his hands clamped onto my butt.
Then I was on the counter, my robe was on the floor, and Dawson was unbuckling his belt. The moment his body powered into mine, my world became him: his taste, his scent, his heat.
After he rocked me so hard I swear he rocked the cabinet off the floor, he yanked up his pants and carried me to bed.
Looked like we were making up for lost time.
Not a single complaint from me.
I’d never sexually clicked with any man the way I did with Dawson. Living together hadn’t cooled our passion one iota. In fact, being in close quarters and able to act on impulse whenever we wanted had ramped it up a notch or twenty.
Later, as I was spent and sprawled on my stomach, he’d propped himself on his side, letting his fingers follow the curve of my spine.
“Guess what I got today?”
“A qualified applicant for the deputy’s position?”
“Funny. Try again.”
I lifted my head and looked at him. “You really want to play twenty questions?”
Dawson sighed. “Sometimes your cut-to-the-chase attitude is annoying. Indulge me. One more guess.”
“Fine. You got a commendation from the governor.”
“Nope. I got our hunting licenses.” He toyed with my hair. “I applied for both of us when you were busy at Quantico.”
“What we get?”
“Antelope. Bucks. I thought we could go hunting on Saturday.”
I grinned. “Really? You did that for me?”
“Yep. I reckoned a box of bullets would mean more to you than a box of chocolates.”
The man knew me so well. But that was a two-way street. He had an ulterior motive. “First, you ply me with smokin’ hot sex, and then, you dangle the prospect of killin’ something… What do you really want?” My eyes narrowed. “No way, copper. You aren’t shooting my new AR-15.”
He chuckled. “So suspicious and so freakin’ protective of your firepower. But you are half right.” Teasing aside, he wore a serious face. “There is something I want to talk to you about.” He continued to stroke my arm, almost absentmindedly. “Mona called me yesterday.”
Who was Mona? Took a second for the name to register. Ah, right. The cocktail waitress he’d knocked up; the mother of his son, Lex. “What did she want?”
“Mostly to complain about how hard it is to be a single mother. But the point is, seems Lex has been in trouble, and he’s been suspended from school. Mona is at her wit’s end. She asked if Lex could live with me for a while.”