“Mason,” she breathed, and once she said it, she couldn’t stop. She chanted his name over and over as he plowed into her. The freedom to say it during the height of pleasure too good to verbalize anything else. As if she even could.
“God, baby. You feel so good.”
She locked her legs tighter around him and met his powerful thrusts as best she could. It was frenzied, and she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to last, and she wanted him owning her, owning this thing between them. He couldn’t say the words, but his body was screaming them at her. He couldn’t deny he felt something, and she knew it. If not before, she did now.
Her climax caught her off guard, her back bowing as she screamed.
He roared, not slowing as he joined her. Uninhibited.
Unprotected.
Oh no.
She was on birth control, so that wasn’t the issue. And because of Mason’s lifestyle and the possibility that they would have sex, the FBI had secured his medical records. She knew that even though it had been careless, she was still safe.
Yet, that didn’t matter. Letting him come inside was giving him another part of her soul. She’d never had unprotected sex before. Ever.
“Shit,” he breathed, and she figured he’d realized this little tidbit, too. “I’m sorry. I never lose control.”
He stiffened against her before he eased her to her feet. No, she figured he didn’t like losing control at all. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control and clean.”
“I am, too.” But he still didn’t sound happy as he moved away from her, closing himself off. It hurt like hell that he was doing it so soon after taking her.
“Look, Mason—”
He laughed without humor, keeping his back to her. “How wrong is it that I like you saying my name?”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
His shoulders dropped, and he faced her. “Some things came up at work. I need to go in.”
There went her heart again. He might as well punch a hole in her chest, rip it out, and be done with it already. “Are we just going to leave things like this?” she asked softly, not wanting to know the answer but unable to keep her mouth shut.
“I’ll call you when I’m ready for our next scene.” He turned to walk away, and dread like none she’d ever experienced before engulfed her. This all still felt very final. Sex hadn’t changed anything. She was old enough to understand that, but it still hurt. “And after? What then, Mason?”
He turned to look at her, staring for several seconds before speaking. “I can’t answer that, Shelby. Not yet.”
She searched his eyes, but he was unmoving. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, it’s making you miserable.”
“You don’t know me.”
If he’d slapped her, it would’ve hurt less. Because it was hateful and truthful all at the same time. She didn’t know him. Nor did she know herself if she was capable of falling in love with a man who could kill someone for financial gain. Or could toss her feelings away as if they didn’t even matter. The fact that the latter bothered her more was an unwelcome wakeup call. Unwelcome, but there all the same. “You’re right,” she said, resolve settling in. “I don’t.”
She turned to leave, but looked over her shoulder. “You don’t know me either. It’s better if it stays that way.”
“Shelby.”
She didn’t wait around to hear what he had to say. It didn’t matter. He thought he was teaching her to play, but in reality, she was playing him, working him on a case. If she stayed long enough, she might feel compelled to tell him everything, which would not only get her fired, but get her thrown in jail right alongside him. The government didn’t look too kindly at obstruction of justice. No matter what her heart was telling her, her head would prevail. She had to get away from him. Now. And stay away.
Her purse had been dropped by the door, so she’d grabbed it before fleeing. She didn’t care that she was half naked. She clutched the shirt closed and ran barefoot to her car. It still wasn’t daybreak, so no one was around to see her leaving. No one except whoever watched the club while she was there.
Hopefully, the information she got from him today was enough to get a warrant, so the FBI could focus their investigation on him and William Baxter. If it was, the surveillance teams could disband because her involvement with Mason would be effectively over.
Her breath hitched as she started her car and pulled out onto the road.
It can’t be over if it never began.
Chapter Sixteen
Mason slammed his desk drawer and waited for his laptop to boot up, determined to focus on the new nightmare before him and not the one brewing in his personal life.
One minute he was pushing Shelby away, and the next he was trying to figure out how to keep her in his life…only to push her away again. Seeing the look of hurt on her face as she left gutted him. Because it held more than rejection. In its depths was understanding. It was as if she knew things could never really work between them, regardless of any feelings brewing.
Deep down, he knew it, too. Love would not be enough. He was strong enough to admit how he felt, and smart enough to put it aside. Frankly, he had no other choice now. The phone call he’d gotten from William this morning drilled that point home.
The only thing that man was good at was fucking things up and screwing people over. The son of a bitch had moved some money from one of the funds started by Fieldstein—a fund that Mason now managed—into a shell business. He purposely left a paper trail leading to Mason as the one behind the illegal activity. He didn’t stop there either. William even posted some large unscheduled deposits into Mason’s 401k and diverted more into an overseas bank account that had his fucking name all over it.
His boss was now blackmailing him.
He’d told Mason he was working something huge on the Culpepper Hedge Fund, confirming what Mason had learned from his source. Now, William needed him to move money out of it before the quarterly projections were finished, so it coincided with the earnings they would be showing to investors. It seemed the meeting with their Tokyo counterparts hadn’t been as fruitless as Mason had believed. Because Mason had disposed of Carl, William believed he’d be willing to take the plunge to the dark side and join him in working the Ponzi scheme.
With a little coaxing.
If Mason agreed, William would fix the mess he caused, and Mason would go back to being as clean as a whistle—on paper.
If he didn’t, then William would hang him out to dry. In an orange jumpsuit at a minimum-security prison.
As soon as Shelby had left, he’d called his silent partner on the untraceable phone and had relayed everything. Mason was ready to pull the plug on his plan and deal with William himself, but the man had talked him into playing along, convincing him this was a good thing. William was finally showing his hand, so it was only a matter of time before they’d get him. He’d assured Mason he would get his name off that money in the meantime and intercept the transaction William was forcing him to make. Mason had finally relented.
So, here he was, in his office at Fieldstein and Baxter, logging into the firm’s most prestigious hedge fund, and stealing money for William. If this didn’t work, he was sealing his fate. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new job when the shit hit the fan. He’d just have to worry about not dropping the soap. If he didn’t believe his contact would pull through for him, no way would he do this, but he knew problems could always arise. The risk was still a major one.