Sweet Obsession Read online

  She shrugs. “I don’t feel like going back for more coffee. You would’ve spilled it.”

  “Ah, okay. I thought maybe it was because you care about my well-being, or something. My mistake.”

  She stops walking. I look back over my shoulder.

  “What is it?”

  “Are you married? Is that it?”

  Confusion pulls my brows together. “Do you think I’m married?”

  When have I given her the impression that I was married?

  She hits me with a sturdy glare as she marches directly for me. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. You aren’t wearing a ring, but not all married guys wear their rings, especially ones who like to jerk off to the idea of other women. Is that you?”

  I stare at her, long and hard. Is she fucking serious with this? I grab her hand and pull her in the small alleyway between two businesses.

  “What are you doing?”

  With a hand to her hip, I guide her back against the brick wall. Chest to chest, I look down at her, trying to contain my anger at this bullshit back and forth while I balance these stupid fucking coffees.

  “Do you really think I’m married? Is that the kind of man you think I am? One who cheats on his wife?”

  She tilts her head up. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. It wouldn’t be the first time some married guy tried something with me. Although, I doubt any of them would’ve rejected me the way you did. Was that your guilty conscience talking last night?”

  What the fuck?

  I bend down, inching closer. “I am not married. If I was, I never would’ve invited you to my class because I wouldn’t have been able to keep my eyes off you. Fuck, Brooke, the way we flirted that first day, that wouldn’t have happened. I told you I’m not interested in a quick fuck. I don’t do that anymore. I’m not some young kid fucking around. I want more than that.” My hand slides higher on her waist, fitting to her curves. “Give me more.”

  She blinks heavily, then looks back up at me with round, doleful eyes. Her head shakes ever so slightly. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was last night? How awkward I felt? I was naked, Mason, and you rejected me.” A rush of air pushes past her lips, blowing against mine. “You rejected me.”

  Fuck. I hurt her. I hadn’t meant to. I would never.

  “Brooke.”

  Her gaze lowers to a spot on my shirt.

  The pain in her voice, paired with that wounded look she’s trying to hide from me tears through my reserve.

  I tilt my head down. She lifts hers at my sudden movement, gasping as our mouths slide together, searing into a kiss. It’s hot and wet, almost painful as we both reveal our desperation. My body presses her to the brick. She parts her lips with a groan as her warm hands wrap around my neck, fingers twisting in my hair and tugging. My tongue moves into her mouth, tasting, gliding against hers. I palm her arse, wishing I had use of both hands right now so I could properly do this.

  She sucks on my lip, then bites it, smiling when I bend further with a moan.

  “You’re a good kisser,” she says against my mouth. “Really good. Must be the accent.”

  I laugh, licking along the seam of her lips, swallowing her taste. Savoring it.

  “I want you, Brooke. Do you see now?”

  “Mm. I think.” She tugs the hair at the base of my neck when I try and lean away. “No, wait, don’t stop.”

  I drop my forehead to hers. Her hand relaxes.

  “Do you want more?” I whisper, staring at her mouth, her eyes, the cute little wrinkle in her nose.

  She nods, biting at her bottom lip.

  “Me too. I want more of that, of everything. Try it my way.”

  “Try it my way. It involves nudity.” She attempts to wiggle closer.

  I press against her hip, keeping her pinned to the wall.

  “Mason,” she moans as I bend and kiss her cheek. My mouth moves to her ear.

  “I could fuck you right now, up against this brick wall while anyone could walk by us. Would you like that? Would you come for me?”

  She shudders. Her hands fit to my waist.

  “Oh, God,” she whispers.

  I kiss the skin below her ear before continuing. “It would be amazing, and I want that, I do, but my way, which involves feelings and knowing someone, trust me . . . it’s better. It’s so much better, Brooke. I want you to really feel me. I don’t just want a hard fuck in an alley and then nothing. I can’t do that.”

  I slowly lean back. My hand falls away from her body as I watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

  Is her heart pounding as much as mine? I fight the temptation to ask.

  I gaze at her. Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is falling out of the hair-tie it was haphazardly contained in.

  She looks beautifully undone.

  “Try it my way,” I insist again.

  Please. I want this with you.

  She sucks at her bottom lip as she thinks it over, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth. With a soft grunt, she pushes off from the brick and snatches the carrier out of my hand. Her feet quickly carry her away from me.

  The hell?

  “Is that a yes?” I call out, turning my head to watch her.

  “I don’t know.” She gives me a playful smile over her shoulder. “Is it?”

  A laugh rumbles in my chest.

  Little devil. Do you think that answer will satisfy me?

  I sag against the brick after she disappears around the corner. My head falls forward. I look down at the erection pleating the front of my shorts.

  “Fucking persistent bastard, aren’t ya?”

  I adjust my cock and get out of the alley, heading back in the direction of the coffee shop.

  BROOKE

  Okay. Okay okay okay.

  That was just a kiss. A kiss, Brooke. Stop walking like you just had your vagina smashed.

  Pushing my shoulders back, I continue down the sidewalk with the coffee carrier, losing the obnoxious spring in my step. It’s hard not to bounce a little. My skin feels like it’s vibrating. A continuous pulse moving over my flesh, sending a delicious shiver up my spine and down my limbs.

  Darting my tongue out, I taste my bottom lip.

  It’s swollen, sensitive from Mason’s assault. Or mine. I wasn’t gentle when I kissed him back. I went at him like a woman deprived, which is exactly how I should still be feeling, only . . .

  That was, hands-down, the best kiss of my life.

  It wasn’t just the way he worked his mouth, it was the filth spilling out of it. The soft murmurs against my skin about how he could fuck me. How he wanted to, only . . .

  He wants more than that. More than a hard fuck in an alley.

  Feelings and knowing each other.

  More.

  My head grows heavy. Am I seriously contemplating this request?

  After the way things ended last night, I was dead-set on waving bye-bye to the prospect of Mason and jumping on the next willing and available dick. No man has ever turned me down before. Ever. Definitely not one where we’re both already naked and his cock is at full mast. But Mason . . . he refused me. Straight up, with my tits out and everything. I was angry and confused. Hurt. God, I didn’t want to admit that, but I was. I wanted him. He obviously wanted me. I drove home like a mad-woman on a rampage.

  A mad, horny woman on a rampage.

  That problem was handled immediately.

  After experiencing one of the quickest, most satisfying orgasms of my life, go figure, I gave into the enticing idea of sleep, but tossed around most of the night.

  Again, I was baffled. Who passes on this kind of opportunity?

  It’s not as if I’ve never been pursued by the men I’ve slept with for the prospect of more. Take clingy Paul, for example. He definitely didn’t want me to dine and ditch his ass the other night. But cases like that have always transpired in the aftermath of sex, not before.

  Never before.

  Who is this
guy?

  I empty my mind of that question, of the kiss I shouldn’t be obsessing over as I step inside the bakery.

  The chime rings out through the small space.

  Joey and Dylan are talking closely behind the counter. Whispering, in fact. They both glance up at the sound of my entrance.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Joey practically sings.

  I barely glance in his direction. He’s way too cheery for me right now.

  “Hey. They’ve stopped serving that caramel ribbon crunch you like so I got you a macchiato instead. I hope that’s okay.” I set the carrier on the display case and look up at Dylan.

  Please be okay. I don’t feel like walking back there.

  A soft smile pulls at her mouth as she steps closer. “That’s okay. That’s okay. I’ll drink caramel anything, sweetie. Thank you.”

  My brow pinches together in response to the strange tone in her voice, to the nickname.

  Sweetie?

  “Why do you sound like that? Did someone die?” I ask, looking down at her outfit. Shouldn’t she be in all black? Who wears pastels when they’re in mourning?

  Dylan plucks her coffee from the carrier. “No. And how do I sound?”

  “Like someone died.”

  Joey makes an amused sound in the back of his throat as he reaches for his coffee.

  “Nobody died. I heard about last night,” Dylan confesses, leaning her hip against the counter. She looks tragically sorry for me. “All about it. Are you okay? That must’ve been crazy awkward.”

  Oh, terrific. That’s why they were whispering.

  I glare at Joey, who simply blows me a kiss before taking a sip of his coffee.

  Bitch.

  I take in a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I tell her, which isn’t necessarily a lie. If she would’ve asked me that question last night or any time before my interaction with Mason this morning, then I’d be lying.

  Joey lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re fine? You devoured half a cheesecake last night, Brooke.”

  I wince at the memory.

  God, I seriously need to get a handle on my sweets consumption during moments of distress. Or, at least eat them discreetly. I publicly tore up that cheesecake like it owed me money.

  Shrugging off my pathetic behavior, I grab my coffee and take a sip. “I was hungry. I didn’t have much for dinner. And really, last night wasn’t a big deal. I’m over him.”

  I was unfortunately never even under him.

  “Oh, well that’s good to know, since there’s a chance he’s about to walk right in here.”

  “What?” My head snaps in Dylan’s direction, then toward the front of the shop.

  My eyes go round. Mason walks past the large window and reaches for the door. The grip on my coffee tightens.

  What the hell is he doing?

  “This should be interesting,” Joey murmurs as the chime sounds overhead.

  I swallow uncomfortably, nearly choking on my own saliva.

  Mason steps inside the shop, his hand now carrying the coffee he obviously went back for. He levels me with a perfectly casual smile, as if he didn’t just have his tongue in my mouth five minutes ago, then immediately notices the other two bodies in the room.

  “Ah, it’s good to see ya again, mate. Didn’t catch your name yesterday.”

  Joey takes Mason’s hand into a firm shake. “Yeah, you seemed a tad bit distracted with the chick next to me.” He shoots me a quick, cheeky glance, then turns back and jerks his chin. “It’s Joey.”

  I smooth down the front of my shirt as the three of them exchange introductions. My cleavage pops out another inch. Completely accidental and not at all done for his benefit.

  Mm. Maybe he’ll notice tomorrow when he stops chatting up my friends.

  Mason gestures at Dylan’s belly. “When are you due?”

  “A month. I’m hoping for sooner though. I’m so sick with this one.”

  “This one? Don’t tell me you have more than one already. You look too young to be a mum.”

  “Ha!” Dylan’s face lights up. Her hands form to her belly. “Oh, my God. You just became my second favorite male.”

  Joey whips his head to the left, his eyes wide with alarm. “Second favorite? Excuse you?”

  I cough into my fist, breaking up the gab fest I’m in no way a part of. Three pairs of eyes train on me as I slowly retreat toward the kitchen.

  “I guess I’ll just go get to work, since there’s apparently no need for me to hang around up here.”

  Mason’s mouth pulls down.

  I quickly regret my half-serious remark as his noticeable remorse tenses up his features.

  God, why do I even care? And am I seriously irritated that he’s taking a moment to be polite? What is wrong with me?

  He takes a few steps in my direction. I halt at the corner of the display case.

  Dylan pushes against Joey’s shoulder, urging him to walk. “Come on. I need your help with something in the back.”

  “You never need my help,” he snaps, then smiles back at her before the two of them slip into the kitchen, leaving Mason and I alone.

  I move my coffee to my other hand. I’m suddenly feeling restless and too hot to drink such a warm beverage.

  Mason gives me a lazy smile as he slowly advances. “Little devil. You ran off.”

  My feet shift underneath me.

  Jesus, his voice. Like honey coating the back of his throat. Sweet and warm. His words slow to leave his tongue.

  I force my mouth to close.

  Oh, my God. How long was it gaped open for?

  Barrier. I need a barrier.

  “Can I help you with something?” I ask, swiftly moving behind the display case. I set my coffee on the back table and fold my hands neatly on the glass. “Your stalker level is quickly rising, you know. First the coffee shop, now you’re coming to my place of business. Should I alert the authorities yet?”

  Mason cocks his head with a curious smirk, then moves to stand directly across from me. “Wait until I find out where you live.”

  “What?”

  He chuckles. “Relax, gorgeous. I’ll keep it professional, yeah? No house calls until you invite me.”

  “Mm.” I cross my arms under my chest. “Don’t hold your breath on that happening.”

  He smiles, then tips his cup back, taking a long swig of his coffee. His eyes never leave mine.

  To keep myself from staring back like a hungry little fiend, I grab a bakery box and open the display case. My hand closes around a pastry.

  He leans over, head tilting down to watch me. “You look cute back there, ready for work. How long have you been doing this?”

  “A few years,” I answer, not looking up. “It started out as something temporary. I needed a job after getting fired from my old one and Dylan needed an extra hand during wedding season. I honestly wasn’t expecting to like it as much as I did. But almost immediately everything just seemed to click. I love the artistic side of it. The design process. How everything comes together. I don’t know. It’s not like I’m curing cancer or anything, but cupcakes seem to make people happy. I think happiness is therapeutic.”

  I straighten with the box and set it on the case. Lifting my head, I lock onto Mason’s gentle stare.

  “What?” I ask.

  After a beat, he softly replies. “Nothing.” He leans forward and looks down into the box. “What’s this?”

  “Um, it’s,” I shove the box closer to him. “It’s pastries I made. Here. And a cupcake for later. Red velvet. The icing is amazing.”

  He studies the contents as if I’ve just offered him the greatest gift in the world. I remember him having this same look when I gave him the treats the other day outside his studio.

  Maybe he really likes dessert. Maybe it’s a delicacy over in Australia.

  Setting his coffee down, he fits the box between his hands, then lifts his head. His eyes appear darker under the bakery lights. “You never gave me an answer. I
need an answer, Brooke.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll go bloody crazy if you don’t give me one.”

  “Bloody crazy? Not just regular crazy? I’m picturing a massacre.”

  He shrugs. “Say yes and no one gets hurt.”

  I laugh, reaching up and pushing my hair behind my ear. “Wow. First stalking, now you’re threatening murder? You better be careful, pretty boy. I’m not so sure how you’d hold up in prison.”

  He stares at me. The corner of his mouth lifts. “What are you doing tonight?”

  Joey emerges from the back at that exact moment. I’m certain the queen of gossip was listening to every word of this conversation. If it was anyone else, I’d take his timing as purely coincidental.

  “She’ll be at The Tavern with a bunch of us after we close up here. It’s a little bar we like to frequent. You should come. I’m sure they carry Fosters.”

  I narrow my eyes at Joey as he comes to stand beside me. He gives me his biggest smile.

  “Yeah, I don’t drink Fosters, mate. Not a lot of us do.”

  “Really?” Joey turns to Mason with a hand to his chin, scratching along his stubble. He looks deeply perplexed. “Well, don’t I feel like the world’s biggest ass.”

  Mason grabs his coffee and the bakery box. “No worries. You can buy me a round tonight to make up for that little blunder.” He trains his eyes on me, stepping back. “And you. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

  Damn it. I try, really, really try not to smile, but he throws on that damn ‘yeah’ at the end of his sentence, and I can’t help it. It’s cute. I like it.

  Luckily, I don’t give him the chance to see it.

  I duck down behind the counter, looking busy. “Mm. Yeah, all right. See ya,” I call out as I stare at the gray speckled tile on the floor.

  The door chimes. Joey crouches down beside me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he whispers, searching my face.

  “Working.”

  He glances around the tiny corner I’m tucked into. “Yeah, okay. What was all that talk about giving him an answer? An answer to what? Did you not tell me something last night?”

  I straighten and shove past him, moving into the kitchen. “You are lucky I tell you anything, Joey McDermott.”

  Snatching my apron off the hook, I join Dylan at the worktop.