Fallen Fourth Down (Fallen Crest #4)(65)

He shrugged, stepped back, and opened the door wider. “Your funeral, lady, if you aren’t who you say you are.” He gestured up the stairs. “He’s probably still awake. We just got back an hour ago. Second door on the right.”

I stepped inside. Shooting him a dark look, I said, “It’s the third door on the left.”

He flashed me a grin. “Ah. So you have been here before.”

“Whose door is the second on the right?”

“Mine.” He was beaming. As I stepped past him, heading for the stairs, I smelled alcohol on his breath. Things were making sense. He laughed to himself, saying, “It would’ve been awkward if you had gone to my room.” Then he shut the door, locked it, and went to the living room.

I paused, right before going upstairs. He plopped down on the couch, pulled a blanket over him, and burrowed face first into the cushions. He mumbled, “Hit the lights, would you? They’re right there.”

I skimmed the wall. “Where?” I saw nothing.

“Right there.” His voice was becoming drowsy. “Left wall.”

I glanced to the right instead and there they were. Flipping them off, I saw a small light upstairs, so I could still see. When I started up, I heard him mumble, “Thank you.”

The light was off in Mason’s room, and hearing loud snoring from inside, I left it off. Tiptoeing in, I went to the direction of Mason’s bed and felt for the bedcovers. Before I could wake him, a hand snaked out and grabbed onto my wrist. With a cement-like hold on me, I was pushed in the direction of the hallway. Mason got up from the bed, looming large over me. He never made a sound. For a moment, my heart paused, and a chill went down my spine. Once we were in the hallway, he shut the door and pushed me against the wall, still holding onto my arm. The little light illuminated the side of his face, and I could see the fury in his eyes. His mouth was pressed in a flat line. His jaw clenched, and he rasped out, “What the fuck are you doing?”

The air was held trapped in my throat. I couldn’t talk for a second, then I whispered, “Mason?”

His eyes narrowed.

I waited a beat.

His hand abruptly dropped mine, and he stepped back. “Sam?”

“Yeah.” My heart slammed back into pace, pounding against my chest. “Holy shit. Who did you think I would be?”

A door opened from across the hallway. A girl stood there in a tight shirt and skirt, wiping her mouth. Her hair looked like she had just run her fingers through it. She started out to the hallway, saw us, and jerked back. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She went back into the room and slammed the door shut.

It took one second. That’s all I needed before I knew who she was. Marissa. Even thinking that name was like a punch in my gut. I looked at Mason, leaned back against the wall, and crossed my arms over my chest. “What the fuck is Marissa doing here?”

He ran a hand over his face and cursed. “She was wasted at Cliché.”

“She’s not wasted now.” My blood was starting to boil. “I want her gone.”

He held his hands up, backing away. “I’ll take care of it. Promise.” Pausing in front of that door, he glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving.”

“I know. I just…” A small grin appeared and he raked his gaze over my face, lingering on my lips. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Oh fuck. My blood went down to a simmer at the look in his eyes. I rolled my eyes. “I want her gone, Mason.”

“I know. I know.” He knocked on the door and braced his hand against the doorframe. As he did, his back muscles bunched together and my mouth went dry. I skimmed down his back, to his lean waist, and saw the boxers he was still wearing. They were black and molded to his ass. I wet my lips. An ache started between my legs, and I pressed them together. It’d been too long since I felt him, since he held me in his arms, since I felt his lips against my skin. I closed my eyes shut. He was getting ready to kick her out of the house, and all I wanted to do was jump him. Leaning back against the wall, I moved my hand to touch the plaster. The cool feel of it helped some reality sink in, only a tiny bit.

He knocked again. “Marissa?”

Waves of longing and yearning crashed down on me. I blinked, shaking my head. I heard her say through the door, “Is Sam still there?”

Wait. Here came the anger, tangling with need to feel him inside me. Mason lifted his head, looked at me, and paused. His gaze met mine, and he saw the tornado whirling in me. His eyebrows lifted, and he straightened from the wall. “You okay?”

I tried to shake my head. I couldn’t talk, and my neck muscles were stiff. My chin moved just slightly. I choked out, “Leave her.”

He nodded, reaching out to me. As his hand touched my arm, I shivered. His thumb rubbed over my skin, and I bit down on my lip. A groan escaped me. As it did, as I tried to swallow it, I couldn’t look away from him. He was having the same reaction. As he heard my groan, his eyes darkened and he went back to watching my lips. Pulling me to him, he bent his forehead to mine, and murmured, “My roommate’s in there.”

I shook my head. I didn’t care, and losing the will over my own body, I pressed against him. He was hard. Feeling the bulge, my eyes closed. I moved against him, pressed my hips into his, and rubbed against him.