The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(54)
“They wouldn’t be unspeakable if I told you, now would they?” Mason sprawls out beside me and lifts his arm for me to snuggle up against him. His T-shirt smells like woodsmoke from his campfire with Daniel and the kids.
“I don’t believe you.”
He laughs lightly. “You’re very smart, because I have no idea what I’m talking about. My hottest take is that kissing is essential foreplay.”
“A demonstration, please.”
Mason shifts to face me and brushes his lips against mine. Featherlight, then gone. He kisses my cheeks, nose, forehead, and as he reaches the side of my neck, I feel the heat pooling between my thighs.
“I see what you mean.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.”
The next kiss is long and slow, and I sink into the pleasure, surrendering myself completely to the feel of his mouth on mine. Time loses meaning and when I finally open my eyes, the stars have moved across the sky.
“Rachel,” he says, his voice soft and low. “I want to kiss you everywhere.”
The thought takes my breath away and I whisper, “Yes, please.”
He unfastens the buttons down the front of my dress, and even the briefest touch of his hands on my skin is almost too much to bear. My dress falls open and I send up a silent prayer of thanks that I wore cute underwear. I reach for the hem of his T-shirt and Mason takes the hint, yanking it over his head. I unhook my bra as he removes his shorts, our clothes turning to piles on the grass. He slips off his boxer briefs, then kneels on the blanket to help me take off my underwear.
I feel so exposed. Not only because a man who has never seen me naked is witnessing every imperfection all at once, but because it feels as if my body is on display for the whole universe to see. My instinct is to pull the blanket around me. Hide myself. Until Mason breathes out a sound that’s almost … reverential.
“You.” He stops. Swallows hard. “Rachel, you are a fucking goddess.”
He leans down and begins with my mouth.
This kiss is nothing less than the ones that have come before, but this time his warm bare skin is pressed against mine. With a soft sweep of his tongue, he coaxes a hungry moan from my mouth, capturing it in his. Heat rolls through me like a wave, tumbling my senses until I can’t tell which way is up.
His lips move away from mine, grazing softly down my neck. Goose bumps spring up on the backs of my thighs. The pad of his thumb slides slowly across my nipple. My breath hitches, sparks dance behind my eyelids, and my back arches, greedy for more. He replaces his thumb with a swirl of his tongue, and I nearly levitate off the blanket.
“Mason.” His name spills out like a plea, his mouth almost too much and not nearly enough.
“You okay?”
“Fine, but—” I gasp as he draws my nipple into his mouth, and the rest of the sentence is lost.
Mason was not embellishing when he said he wanted to kiss me everywhere. By the time his lips graze my inner thigh, I’m begging for release. By the time I cry out his name, the universe consists of only two.
July
CHAPTER 19
Liming
Trinidadian and Tobagonian English
“the art of doing nothing while sharing food, drink, conversation, and laughter”
The Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. I love watching fireworks displays. Love dressing in red, white, and blue. And I always loved helping organize the all-night barbecue at Aquamarine. Despite being an experienced hand, my stomach is twisted in knots as I run a mental checklist for the Fourth of July soft opening of the Limestone. Because most people on the island celebrate the holiday with their families, Mason and I decided to hold an all-day open house with free beer and brewery tours, also providing visitors the opportunity to check out the finished cabin. Everything is ready, except me. Mason’s family is coming from Cleveland and this will be the first time we meet.
“What if your parents don’t like me?” I ask as he comes out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of navy shorts. I’m already dressed in a pair of brick-red shorts with a plain white T-shirt and navy low-top Chucks.
After our night under the stars, Mason moved upstairs into my room—our room—and we turned his office into Yōkai’s cat habitat. Daniel is building her some wall shelves, but for now she’s content to hang out on the top rung of the cat tree, where the sunlight lands exactly right. She and Mason aren’t best friends yet, but Yōkai doesn’t lash out quite so often.
“They’ll like you,” he says.
“How are you so sure?”
“I’ve known my parents for thirty-nine years.” He moves up behind me in front of the mirror, where I’m tying a blue bandanna in my hair, and kisses my cheek. “You look so cute in this outfit that I want to take it off of you right—”
“Mason!” a female voice—his mother, I presume—calls out as the side screen door creaks. “We’re here!”
He’s buttoning his red-white-and-blue plaid shirt as we hurry down the back stairs into a kitchen filled with Browns. From the last step, I watch as he’s enveloped in a cloud of hugs and kisses from his parents, siblings, in-laws, nieces, and nephews. Having come from such a small family, their presence fills the room and it’s a little overwhelming. Hearing the commotion, Maisie comes running in from Yōkai’s room and skitters to a stop when she sees so many people.