Fallen Crest Public (Fallen Crest High #3)(32)

“Nothing,” I answered.

“You sure you’re okay?” She turned from the counter, bowl in hand, but didn’t lift the spoon from it. She wore a small frown and her eyes were filled with concern.

My dick twitched again. And love. Her eyes were filled with love too. I tried to reassure her with a small grin. “I’m good. You want a burger or something?”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the bowl. “No, I’m good with ice cream. It’s been a long night.”

I grunted. That was true enough.

“Are you okay?”

This was the second time she’d asked. “I’m fine.”

“Mason.”

“Sam?” I grinned at her as fantasies of taking her, pinning her against the nearest counter, and pushing inside of her overwhelmed me. Sam had been through too much tonight for me to be that rough with her. She deserved better.

“You can talk about it, you know?”

“About what?”

“Nate. The car accident. He’s your best friend. I’m not stupid. It must have rattled you.” As she finished her statement, she sat on a chair at the table and drew her knee against her chest. Wrapping her arms around it, she lifted her bowl and spoon, but propped her chin on top of her knee. Filling her spoon with ice cream, she popped it into her mouth.

I watched how she savored the taste of it. My dick was full force again.

Enough.

Pushing off from the counter, I went to her. I didn’t pause, even when her eyes got big and the bowl fell from her hands. I needed her now. I needed her any way I could get her, and I wasn’t going to be gentle.

“Mason?” She squealed when I lifted her in my arms.

As she looked in my eyes, she saw the hunger in mine—I wasn’t hiding it. That feeling, needing to be enraptured by her, wasn’t meant to be hidden or repressed. It was meant to be shared. When her mouth opened, a soft sigh left her, and I knew she felt it too. Her hand lifted to cup the side of my face.

It was one of those touches that I savored.

Carrying her upstairs, I didn’t make a sound. Neither did she. I just watched her. When I went inside our room, I lowered her to the floor, but kept her against me before I kicked the door shut. I savored that feeling, too. Bending down, my hands still on her waist, I breathed her in. She smelled of fresh air and vanilla. She never wore the fancy stuff or the expensive stuff. I’d seen her in the mornings when she would lift her body spray and use one spray. It was enough. The scent of her was embedded in me; I’d never forget it.

I’d never get enough of her.

“Mason?” she murmured again, her voice throaty.

My eyes opened and saw that she was watching me. Her hands were on my chest, but she was clinging to my gaze.

Lifting my hands, I cupped both sides of her face. Without realizing I was going to, I asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

She shuddered before me, and her mouth fell open another inch. Her eyes got wider and a look of wonderment shone through.

She didn’t know the depth of my love for her, but that was part of her magic. It was one of the reasons I loved her. She had no clue what made her special or what made her beautiful. It wasn’t her trim body. It wasn’t how my hands fit perfectly around her waist or how her br**sts fit in the palms of my hands. It wasn’t even how her dark eyes would tear up when I’d whisper my love to her, or how her perfect lips would open. Samantha was gorgeous, but she had no idea. She didn’t think about looks. I watched her this week at school. She had no idea how people watched her. She thought it was because of me, but it wasn’t. People watched her because she was beautiful. She had a look that no one did. It was natural and graceful. She was kind and loving. The guys could see it with one glance. All of them wanted her. I knew it, but she was mine, and the girls, the nicer girls liked her without even talking to her. The others were jealous. She had what they didn’t, inside and outside beauty.

She had no idea just how rare she was.

She had no f**king clue, and I didn’t have the words to tell her. Even if I did, she’d be uncomfortable at the idea. She’d fidget, look anywhere other than at me, and then convince herself that I was being dramatic. Samantha didn’t know how to be loved—her mother made sure of that—so she’d never understand how special she truly was.

With that last thought, my hand fell from her cheek to her thigh. I took a firm grip, my fingers sinking into her leg, and I lifted her into my arms.

She gasped, but she wrapped her arms around my neck. Grinning, she murmured, “What’s this about?”

“I’m not going to be gentle.” My blood was pumping too much for that to happen. “I’m not going to be quick.” God no. I was going to enjoy the feel of her body underneath mine. All of her soft curves, the little gasps she made when I was inside of her, and the feel of her hands skimming over me. I was going to make it last. “And you are going to be thoroughly f**ked when I’m through with you.”

I lowered her onto the bed. As she kneeled on the mattress before me, her shoulders and chest lifted when she took a deep breath. Her hands were on my chest, and she tipped her head back. Her dark hair fell backwards, and then she grinned. The look of her made my heart skip before pounding back with a renewed vigor.

In a soft husky tone, she murmured, “What’s taking you so long?”