“Then what’s the problem?” I held myself rigid until I knew what direction I needed to go in. How I needed to play this.

And I was hurt.

More than just my pride.

But I couldn’t dwell on that.

“I want to talk to you too, Hannah. I want to know more about you. I don’t want to jump into bed without laying the groundwork. Not this time.”

Not this time.

Okay…

“You want to talk?” I raised my eyebrow, attempting to assuage the discomfort of the situation. I ran my finger down his chest, dipping it into the waist of his jeans, giving it a tug. “Since when does a guy want to talk instead of—?”

“Since the guy realized he’d really like to get to know the woman for more than her body,” Mason interrupted.

Well then.

I wasn’t sure what to make of the way my chest warmed and expanded.

“I’m not much of a talker, Mason,” I warned him, my guard up now. Walls in place.

I had to be so, so careful….

Sex would have been a lot easier.

“I want to know about you, Hannah Whelan.” He kissed me. Harder this time. “In between other things.”

Then his fingers were in my hair again, buried deep. His mouth on mine. I moaned, his tongue sweeping between my lips. He was tasting me. Devouring me.

My hands ran up and down his broad back. There was so much to touch. So much to feel.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked, kissing the underside of my jaw. Trailing hot, wet lips along the column of my throat.

I laughed.

“Why don’t you guess?” I suggested with a gasp. I leaned back into his couch, arching my neck, giving him complete access. I was throbbing between my legs. An ache that needed tending. I parted my thighs. I wanted him to feel how wet I was.

For him.

Because of him.

He slowly unbuttoned my shirt and looked down at me, his eyes on fire. “Blue,” he said, his finger tracing the pale aqua lace along the edge of my bra.

“Nice try. It’s orange,” I offered, giving him something little. Something seemingly insignificant.

Mason kissed my bare shoulder, lingering. “Orange? Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

I ran my hands over the well-defined muscles of his back. “I’d guess you’re into working out. Religiously. You probably run five miles before work, don’t you?”

Mason propped himself up on his elbows and grinned down at me. “Not even a little bit. I’m allergic to physical activity.” He rubbed against me. “Well, most physical activity,” he conceded slyly.

“Those muscles are natural?” I asked incredulously.

“Just good genes.” He cupped my breast, squeezing, rubbing. Damn, he was good at this.

I pulled his shirt free from his pants, fumbling with the buttons. I didn’t have a lot of practice at this sort of thing. I worried I would do it all very badly.

Mason took pity on me and yanked the shirt up and over his head, dropping it on the green-patterned carpet.

His lips and hands were everywhere.

I was on fire.

“Where did you go to college?” Mason asked, breaking his sensual assault long enough to pepper me with further questions.

“Does it matter?” I breathed.

Too much. Too fast.

Too close…

“Okay, tell me about your friends. Your family. What do you like to do in your free time?”

He wouldn’t stop.

I knew it was in his nature to look for information.

But I was starting to chafe under the inquisition. Even if I really liked how he was making my body feel.

“Hannah?” He made my name a question; his shaking fingers paused on the zipper of my skirt.

He wanted to know me.

I could never, ever give him that.

He didn’t know he was trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

For the first time, this felt anything but good.

I pushed his hand away and sat up, trying to get my breathing under control.

I had to be able to keep my thoughts in order. I had to check those pesky emotions.

That was necessary if any of this was going to work.

Mason sat up and ran his hand over his face, his breathing labored. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

What loaded questions.

How could I answer that?

Given who I was.

Given who he was.

I kissed him again.

I couldn’t help it.

God, I just couldn’t help it.

“I’m great, Mason. I promise,” I told him. It was true.

For reasons that kept changing like the wind.

I pressed my palms to his naked chest. I could feel the thumping of his heart. Mine was pounding just as hard.

I had to get it together. “I’m just thinking we should take it down a notch. Before you go expecting me to expose my soul. I think we need to go through all the steps before we get naked and start oversharing….” My words trailed off.

Look contrite.

Apologetic.

But show him that you want him.

But that you’re scared.

I did want him. That wasn’t a lie. I was scared. That was true too.

Mason kissed the tip of my nose. The corner of my mouth. His hand curled around the side of my neck. Holding me still. Proprietary. Territorial.

Branding.

His erection pressed into my thigh. “We have time, Hannah. I don’t want to rush anything.”

Mouths pressing together. So tenderly.

Strange given the heat and passion we had experienced.

I felt odd. Disjointed.

Torn apart.

Down was up. Left was right.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

I wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

“Maybe we could watch TV,” I suggested lamely.

Mason adjusted the crotch of his pants and picked up his shirt from the floor, putting it back on. “Yeah. TV. Let’s do that.”

He grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. “What do you want to watch?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. Whatever, as long as it’s not football.”

Mason made a horrified face. “No football? Yeah, this isn’t going to work.”

I playfully punched him in the arm. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close again, kissing me. It would be so easy to sink back into him.

To give him everything…

I pulled away. Playing coy. “Oh, it’ll work. I think we’ve proven that.” I had to find my footing again. Being here like this with him was hard. Harder than I had imagined it would be.