Protector, Page 3

  Being a natural with animals and needing a distraction to get his body in check, Mason walked toward the cage. The chimp made noises, greeting him. “Who’s this?” he asked, sticking his finger through the bars. The chimp made more noise, clearly excited.

  Indicating the cage door with a nod, Mason asked, “Can I?”

  “Sure,” Holly said, sitting her things down on her desk. “That’s Dixie. She likes you.” Her tone showed a bit of surprise. “Normally she doesn’t think much of strangers.”

  He opened the door, letting Dixie jump on his shoulder. “I grew up on a ranch. Animals like me.”

  Mason gave her a quick look and then turned his attention toward Dixie, who was now playing with his hair.

  “A ranch usually doesn’t have animals like Dixie,” she said, laughing. An infectious sound that radiated along his nerve endings like a smoldering flame.

  “You’ve never met my brother,” he told her, smiling, despite the animosity the mere mention of his brother made him feel.

  She did that to him. Made him smile. Evoke some unnatural light inside.

  “She had cancer,” Holly told him.

  He fixed his gaze on her. “And you cured her.” It wasn’t a question.

  She nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed, a flash of something he didn’t understand in her eyes. “I cured her.”

  Mason glanced down at Dixie. He couldn’t help but wonder what Holly could do for a human. She was truly an amazing woman. One he wished he could do a lot more with than touch.

  He looked at her, appreciation in his eyes. “You have a gift, Holly Heart.” Sincerity laced his tone.

  “Hey, Holly, want to grab some lunch?” It was Roger. He walked through the break room door. At the sight of Mason, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know we had company.”

  “Roger, this is Mason,” she paused and looked at Mason a minute, “a friend of mine.”

  Roger fixed him with a suspicious gaze. “What’s he doing with Dixie?”

  Mason didn’t care for the way Roger talked about him as if he wasn’t present or capable of answering himself. “If you mean me,” Mason said, “I was just saying hello,” he paused and added, “to Dixie.” He was doing a whole lot more than a hello with Holly.

  “Dixie doesn’t like strangers,” Roger commented.

  Mason unlatched the cage but it took a little encouragement to get Dixie to climb back in. “Obviously, she likes me.”

  Roger looked at Holly. “Do you want to go to lunch?”

  She glanced at Mason and he could feel her discomfort. “I’m having lunch with Mason.” Her words were spoken softly.

  “I see.” Roger’s response was abrupt and terse. He shrugged out of his lab coat, refusing to look at Mason. “I’ll leave you to your lunch then.”

  “Roger—”

  “Forget it,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m out of here.” He crossed the room with determined steps, finding the door and pulling it open, never looking back as he moved into the hallway.

  “Wow,” Holly said shaking her head slightly and then giving Mason an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what his deal is. He never behaves so rudely.”

  “If you had picked him over me, I would be more than rude.” Mason’s tone said he understood. And he did. But he still didn’t like Roger or anyone else having those feelings for Holly. A deep, hard-to-fight, feeling of possessiveness was quickly forming.

  On impulse, something he rarely followed, he took several steps, stopping directly in front of her. They were so close he could, once again, smell the soft jasmine of her perfume, see the clear perfection of her green eyes and reach out and touch her by simply moving his hands.

  He didn’t. But he damn sure wanted to. They stared at one another, a silent passion burning between them. He wanted her like he’d never wanted a woman. To take her right here and now.

  “Mason.” She said his name. It was a whisper of a word but it said so much. Whatever she felt, it at least somewhat mimicked his feelings.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, when he really wanted to know what she was feeling.

  She seemed to hesitate before responding. “You’re very overwhelming.” Her eyes stayed locked with his.

  He knew he could intimidate most with a mere look. With her, he didn’t. But without a doubt, he aroused her. He could smell her passion, like a soft scent in the air, slowly seeping into his nostrils and mixing with her perfume.

  Fighting the rawness of his desire, he connected with the other emotion she evoked. A slow smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. He loved her honesty, maybe because he had seen so much dishonesty. “That’s better than the opposite.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Why are you here?”

  The question surprised him.

  Honesty.

  The word danced in his head like a taunt. He didn’t want to lie to her. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing to answer on an empty stomach.” He reached and trailed his finger down her cheek.

  He felt his dick stiffen, pressing against his zipper. Un-fucking-believable. One touch and he was once again standing at attention. Not that he had been far from it as it was. Her eyes fluttered shut, dark circles against her pale skin.

  When she refocused on him, a smile graced her lips. “I am hungry.”

  The words were spoken a bit too softly, seeming to have a hidden meaning, as if food wasn’t what she hungered for. The look in her eyes confirmed what was in her voice. Her pupils were dark with desire, raw and potent, and impossible to miss. Not that she tried to hide it.

  He was hanging by a string, his self-control on edge. Barely controlling the urge to pull her close, to press those soft, lush curves against his body.

  To slide his cock inside her body and feel her respond. And not gently. The rage of his body demanded so much more. The loving would come later. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to fuck this bad. Perhaps never.

  The longer his hand rested on her cheek, the more temptation roared. He sucked in a breath, absorbing her scent, tasting her arousal.

  His hand slid down to her neck, eyes following the soft curve. The movement, a slow caress. He heard her soft intake of breath. Loved the power he had to impact her so easily. A mere touch affected her as strongly as it did him. He felt her slight tremble beneath his hand.

  What kind of passion could he evoke if he had the freedom to pleasure her?

  Ah, but could this delicate creature ever handle the beast now raging for release? Finding out was far more appealing than it should have been. Hunger for her, deep from within his core, seemed to grow with each passing second.

  She looked up at him with eyes that seemed to lure him into a deeper fire.

  Eyes that said, take me.

  Eyes that said, fuck me. Here. Now.

  He could almost taste her arousal, it touched him so profoundly. Mind-playing a scene in his head, he felt the eroticism of all she evoked in him. He wanted to know she was wet for him. To press his fingers between her thighs and feel the reward of knowing she dripped for him. And then, he would taste her. Experience the perfect flavor of her desire. God, how he wanted to run his tongue along her clit and hear her cry out in pleasure.

  His tongue ran the length of his bottom lip, thinking of what it would be like. His eyes settled on her full lips. The urge to feel them against his, to touch her body, had quickly grown.

  He was losing control. He ground his teeth together. He didn’t lose control.

  Never.

  The thought made him press his eyes shut. He reached within in an effort to shackle his raging libido. To calm the pulse of his rock-hard cock.

  Reaching deep, he forced himself to take a step backwards, his hand dropping from her neck. Giving in to this thing between them, whatever it was, was dangerous and he knew it. He opened his eyes and met her gaze, his expression carefully masked. Wiped clean of all desire.

  But the passion between them
was thick in the air. It floated around them, creating long moments of silence as it seemed to have a life of its own.

  One that threatened to consume all others.

  Forcing his words, he managed to shackle his urges. Just barely. “Shall we?” he asked motioning toward the door.

  * * * * *

  Holly sat across from Mason in the small Chinese restaurant she had chosen for lunch, a buffet plate of food sitting in front of her, untouched.

  The booth they had been given was in the farthest corner of the room, well-hidden from the other tables. The dim lighting only added to the intimacy that seemed to surround them.

  For a moment, back in the lab, she thought they might actually kiss. No. That wasn’t the truth. She thought they might have sex. Only it felt more alive than mere sex. It felt like a connection that must be.

  It was strange, but good.

  Yet he had pulled away.

  Mason’s presence wrapped around her like an intriguing puzzle, both challenging and interesting, and impossible to ignore. The word that came to mind where he was concerned was addictive.

  Other than her research, nothing and no one had ever made her feel so alive, so stunningly in need.

  Studying Mason, Holly tried to decide what it was about him that made her feel so mesmerized. Besides the obvious, of course—he was gorgeous. Surely every woman who came in contact with him wanted him.

  She did. Even now her panties were wet from their near miss. No man had ever turned her on to that point after just thirty minutes.

  For Holly, looks alone wouldn’t impact her as he had. Time and time again she had tested the water, finding no man able to hold her interest.

  Except Mason.

  There was something so compelling about him.

  She surveyed him as if he was a lab subject. Assessing his chiseled cheekbones, his square jaw, she saw strength in his features. Dark brows framed his black eyes. She loved his eyes. When she looked into them, she felt as if she were connected to him in some way.

  It was an odd sensation that was a bit frightening in its power.

  And he was smart. She could see his intelligence in his eyes. There was depth there, and something else, some elusive something she wanted to identify and understand.

  He was physically perfect, aside from the scar on his left cheek, but it only seemed to make him sexier, more male. Truly, he resembled a Greek god of sorts.

  Mason picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. She watched him a minute, wondering about his past. She was determined to get to know him. She picked up her fork. “I’ll be using American-ware,” she informed him. “How did you learn to use those things?”

  He looked at the chopsticks and then at her fork. “I’ve been around, traveled a lot. It’s easy. Want me to teach you?”

  She crinkled her nose. “Too much work for me. Eating is eating. I don’t want to make it hard.”

  He laughed lightly. “You’re not eating.”

  She took a bite of her food in response. “How old are you?” she asked bluntly.

  He set down his chopsticks as if preparing for more questions. “Thirty-six.”

  She thought about that a minute. Yes, thirty-six fit. She had always thought men in their thirties tended to have more worldliness about them. Mason was no boy. He was all grown up, a perfect man.

  Next question, “What do you do?”

  “Do?” he asked playfully.

  She made a frustrated sound. “Sorry. Sometimes my mind works quicker than my mouth. I was talking about work, your job.”

  “I’m in security,” he said leaning back against the cushions of the booth.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I take on high-risk security issues others either don’t want to deal with or have failed to resolve. If there is a risk, I’m the guy.”

  Holly still didn’t understand but, before she could ask more questions, he asked, “What’s with the man who was bothering you when I showed up?”

  Holly shrugged nonchalantly though she felt anything but. “He wants to hire me. I’m not interested. It’s that simple.”

  His eyes narrowed. “In other words, you don’t want to talk about it.”

  Actually, for some odd reason, she felt like Mason might just be the one person she could talk to. It was strange because she hardly knew the man. “It’s not that. It’s just too long a story for lunch.”

  “Then have dinner with me tonight,” he said leaning forward, his eyes willing her to say yes.

  More time with him was appealing. “I am working late tonight.”

  “We’ll eat late then.”

  “No,” she said, worried he was moving so fast. But didn’t she want that, too? “Maybe. I’m not sure how late I’ll be. It depends on how a few things work out in the lab.”

  He wasn’t giving up. “How about I call you around seven and see how you are doing?”

  She couldn’t believe how determined he was being. “Okay,” she said after a minute. “On one condition.”

  He laughed deep and husky. “Already with another condition. You’re a tough lady.”

  She pursed her lips, feeling new wetness between her legs. Inwardly, she cursed herself. How could she let a mere laugh turn her on? “So I’ve heard. Want to hear my condition or not?”

  He laughed again. “Shoot.”

  Inwardly she moaned as her body responded to the husky maleness of the sound. Delicately, she cleared her throat, pressing her thighs together beneath the table. “Tell me about your family ranch.”

  * * * * *

  Holly watched as Mason pulled the restaurant door open and motioned her forward.

  Talking with him had felt far too intimate. A mere stranger should not make her feel so…absorbed. Everything from his voice to his eyes made her all warm inside.

  She wanted him, plain and simple. No more fears that she wasn’t normal. All those years of feeling nothing had suddenly surfaced with a raging fire of something.

  She stepped past him, avoiding eye contact. No way could she look at him until she shackled a bit of the heat she was feeling.

  His eyes followed her movement. She didn’t have to look to know. She felt them. Oddly, she felt him. It was a unique sensation of oneness, a connection that only served to stir her body even further.

  The door slammed shut and he fell into step beside her. The restaurant was directly across from the lab in a small shopping center. A short walk and her time with Mason would be over. She didn’t want it to be. The silence between them was killing her. She could almost feel him thinking the same things she was. Still…she wanted to know for certain.

  They reached a large cluster of trees. The area was somewhat secluded. Holly stopped walking and turned to him. “What are you really all about, Mason Alexander?

  He stared down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. They stared at one another for several long, voiceless moments. Attraction danced between them, wrapping around them like a blanket that blocked out the rest of the world.

  Then, he stepped toward her, bringing his hands to her waist, their thighs pressing together. “What are you really all about, Holly Heart?”

  Her voice sounded raspy, almost a whisper. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His hand slid under her shirt, the roughness of his fingers touching her skin. Her heart did started racing, her nipples tingling with the thought of his hand continuing its climb.

  “You make me forget what I’m all about,” he said softly. His other hand settled on her cheek and his head began to lower. “Tell me why that is.”

  His mouth was so close to hers now, she couldn’t think of anything but wanting to taste him. Her body, acting without her consent, just seemed to sink against his, her hands flattening on his chest.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know why,” she whispered, her lips trembling just as her insides did. Never before had she so wanted to feel a man’s lips upon hers.

  He was the missing piece of a puzz
le. Filling in a hole that made her a woman with real, sexual feelings, a woman with a need.

  For him.

  The first brush of his lips was like an injection of pure desire. She wanted like she had never wanted. There was no time for him to linger, to take things slow. She responded by dipping her tongue into his mouth and stroking his tongue with hers. Forgotten was the campus, the students, the nearness of exposure.

  She just wanted.

  Her hands slid around his neck, even as Mason moaned into her mouth. His hand moved to her back and upward, pressing her nipples into the hardness of his chest.

  Hungrily they kissed, tongues gliding together with intimate strokes, deeper and deeper. She couldn’t get close enough to him but she tried. Her body pressed into his; her hands tried to absorb his very essence.

  He cupped her butt and pressed her hips against his, and she moaned as his cock pressed into her stomach. Her leg moved up his thigh and wrapped around his leg, pulling their hips into tight connection. His hand slid beneath her panties, caressing her cheek with a rasp of his palm.

  She wanted him inside her. Here and now.

  The assault on her senses continued as his hand slid back up to her shirt. This time he didn’t linger. His hand went to her breast, cupping it and lightly kneading.

  She gasped as he pushed aside the lace and pinched her nipple. “Mason, I—”

  The sound of voices made them both freeze, lips still locked, his hand on her breast. Abruptly, Mason pulled back, his hand sliding from under her shirt. Hands on her shoulders, he stared down at her.

  “I’m so sorry, Holly. This will never happen again.”

  Holly blinked. Her body cried out to him, wanting more. Why wouldn’t it happen again?

  Confusion fogged her mind, making her uncertain how to respond. She tugged her shirt down, wishing she could fix her bra. “I…I better get back to work.”

  * * * * *

  Mason walked into the hotel lobby and instantly spotted his right arm man, Sterling Foster, sitting in the bar. Tall, blond and built like a mean fighting machine, Sterling had been his second set of eyes for years. Covering the ground between them, Mason slid onto a barstool next to his longtime friend. “What’s happening?”