Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) Page 4

  She stared at her feet and sucked in a deep breath. “I need you,” her voice drifted off.

  “Say again?” He listened to the hush. “Do you need me, sugar? I can be there in twenty minutes. Just say the word.”

  “No,” she blurted out, “I mean, not here. I don’t need you.”

  “What are you saying? Are you okay?” Mason’s voice was rising, his frustration level peeking, though he talked to her all sweet like molasses. “Have you been drinking, sugar?”

  “I’ve had a few, so what?” she slurred and giggled, sitting up straight and adjusting her skirt as if he could see her. She made an attempt at a serious expression before continuing, “I have to ask you a favor.”

  “Sure, sugar, anything you want.” His answer was quick.

  He blew out a loud sigh when she laughed into the phone, which made her laugh all the more. “Silly fucker, you agree before you even know what it is.”

  “Don’t care. I’d do anything for you. Walk over hot coals, shards of glass, burning lava, you name it,” he boldly confessed. Never one to give a shit about cliché crap, or coming off like a pussy to his woman, he said what he felt.

  “Stop Mason,” she paced back and forth across the room, her mind all a whirl with alcohol and commotion as she played her request over and over in her head.

  “I need to stay with you for a few weeks, only a few until the insurance does some fucking investigation.”

  “Whatever you want, sugar. I’ll come get you.”

  “Wait. I want to make one thing clear.” The line sat quiet, a strong indication he was listening, “I don’t want to stay with you…I need to. I’m desperate. Not tonight, it can keep until tomorrow. I’ll meet you for lunch at O’Rourke’s at twelve thirty.”

  “You got it,” he assured her.

  Mason scrubbed his knuckles over his chin and smiled. He hooked his arm under his pillow and relaxed as he imagined having her in close quarters, waking and sleeping in the same house again. He would work his magic, prove to her he was worthy of her love again. He had a few weeks and with any luck that’s all it would take.

  Mason spotted Mikala sitting in their favorite booth near the end of the bar. She was on the phone and waved him over. Obviously her mood had not changed when he smiled and she didn’t bother to return the token. He raised his hand to the bar tender and swept his finger between them, a gesture O’Rourke understood to mean the usual for them both.

  “Mase old man, I didn’t know you were back.” James O’Rourke, the pub’s owner and good friend to them both greeted Mason with a hand shake, after placing a tall pint and vodka over rocks on the table. “When’d you get into town?”

  “Few days ago,”

  “Well it’s great to see you in one piece,” he laughed.

  “Thanks, James. It’s good to be home,” Mason answered his friend, although his eyes kept gazing over to Mikala.

  “Look Mase, I’m really sorry I can’t help out. You know I’d do anything for you guys but all my money’s tied up in this place, I feel really bad.”

  Mason eyed Mikala across the table; she shrugged her shoulders and dipped her head down. Something wasn’t adding up in this conversation, and it had a lot to do with a certain pair of hazel eyes that impishly met his. He wondered what the man was talking about but didn’t want to appear the fool, slapping his hand against Jame’s bicep he replied, “No worries, Jimmie. Thanks.”

  James thumbed in the direction of the bar. “Best get back to work before Haley has a stroke. She seems to think I goof off too much. It was good seeing you, don’t be a stranger.”

  Mason nodded as his friend walked away. Lifting his glass to his lips he scrutinized Mikala talking on the phone. She completed her call and placed the phone on the table. She squeezed lemon from a bowl into her glass and took a long sip.

  “So, you want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “It’s not really any of your business.”

  “I think it is, especially when James apologizes to me for not being able to help. I’d say that makes it my business, and what help does he think I need?”

  Mikala fiddled with another lemon wedge and got comfortable in her seat. “Okay, it’s like this,” She rested on her elbows moving in closer. She explained the insurance problem in detail and the fact that she was lacking in funds, majorly lacking in funds. And then shared the idea of taking on an investor or investors if need be. “So that’s why I asked James to invest in Pulse. He once told me I was sitting on a gold mine. I just needed a hand to excavate it properly. That’s also why I need to stay with you. I can’t afford to stay in a hotel long term, pay my bills, staff wages and save the club too.”

  “Long term,” Mason mused, thinking how perfect the situation was as his cock did a happy dance in his pants. He bit into the inside of his cheek trying to get a grip on his libido. This wasn’t about sex he scolded himself; it was about making it all up to Mikala for all the wrongs and ultimately getting her back.

  “A few weeks max,” she told him, in no uncertain terms, jumping when her phone vibrated.

  Mason could see the name on the screen, Mr. Dean. It was Chase calling Mikala, not unusual, but it made him wonder all the same.

  “Hi Chase,” Mikala answered sweetly, far more sweetly than Mason had been greeted since his return.

  His eyes followed her finger as it poked the ice cubes floating in her glass while she listened. God she was beautiful, he thought, especially when she was concentrating. He could watch her all day as she moistened her lips with a stroke of her tongue over her bright red lipstick. His favorite shade of red, although it was a bitch to get out of fabric. He threw out plenty of boxers with memorable lip prints left behind, after the mood would take her to give him head while he was driving or waiting in line at a drive-thru. He smiled and Mikala’s brows knit together. Mason shrugged and finished his drink.

  “Are you sure, Chase?” she asked. “Fuck yeah, you tell me when and where,” she nodded her head and laughed. “Sorry, hell yeah, better?”

  Chase had obviously scolded Mikala for the swearing as he often did and, like a big brother, she very rarely disobeyed him. He was a formidable male, alpha all the way and women sat up and took notice. Mikala laughed again and hung up.

  “Fuckin’ A,” Mikala said.

  Mason raised his brow and Mikala raised hers right back.

  “Care to share?” he asked.

  “Later. I don’t have a lot of time so here it is.” She handed him a folded piece of paper and he watched her dubiously, while he unfolded it and started to read her list of demands.

  Three golden rules:

  1-There’s no ‘us’

  2-There’s no ‘we’

  3-There’s no ‘sex’

  “Are we clear?” she asked, when he folded the note and tucked it into his pants pocket.

  An amused smile broke across his face. “Are you trying to break rule number 2 already?” He laughed, but when he saw the seriousness in her glare, he put his hand to his forehead and saluted.

  “Clear!”

  “Smart ass,” she slid from the booth, “I have to meet Chase. I need a key.”

  Unclipping a key from his key chain, he placed it in her palm and followed her out of the pub onto the busy street, walking her to her car.

  “Look Mason, I don’t need a babysitter,”

  “You were going to tell me what Chase wanted.” He made up the first excuse that came to mind. He was after all trying to prove that she needed him, she always needed him. He just needed to remind her how much.

  “He wants to talks to me about a partnership.”

  “Partnership…?”

  “Gotta go, see you whenever,” Mikala said flippantly, as she dismissed Mason and climbed into her car, starting the engine and speeding off without any eye contact.

  “Whenever,” he mimicked, lost in his thoughts.

  Almost with the speed of lightening he dialed Chase walking to his truck, he leaned on t
he bumper when Chase answered.

  “I guess she told you?” Chase chuckled.

  “Only that you want to be a partner. What the fuck Chase?”

  “That’s right,” Chase said smoothly. “And before you go off halfcocked, an inside scoop tells me the insurance isn’t going to come through, because the fire was set intentionally. Arson. I have no choice in the matter. Mik is Eden’s best friend and like a sister to me. The club is all she has and I’m not going to sit back and watch her lose it all.”

  “I get it, I do… I just wish I could help.”

  “Once I’m a partner I have a few plans for the place, ideas to class it up a touch.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as beefing up security, I may install one of those high tech security systems I’ve been hearing about. Know anyone that might be able to hook me up?” Chase chuckled.

  “I just might my man, I just might.”

  ***

  Mason’s attention moved swiftly from the computer screen to the sound of a key sliding into the doors lock, followed by the ever so eloquent cursing of the sexy red head he longed to smooth up to and stroke his hands over. He grinned when he caught sight of her struggling with a few grocery bags and the thing she had the nerve to call a purse. The thing was as big as a suitcase and contained everything known to man. She even had a kitchen sink keychain that she produced after he teased her on the outrageous contents of women’s purses.

  “Need help?” he asked, surprising her as he swooped in, taking the bags from her arms before she could protest. “What’s all this?”

  “I picked up a few things for dinner.” she started unpacking the groceries setting them on the counter as Mason inspected each item.

  “The fridge is full, I have plenty to eat. You don’t need to buy food, sugar.”

  Mikala stomped her feet on the ceramic tile with her hands on her hips shooting a glare like fire and brimstone. Mason’s brows shot up and his eyes drifted over her before he burst into wild laughter.

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “Sugar?” he asked, “I’ve always called you that.”

  “Well stop.”

  “Why, is it that terrible?”

  It wasn’t terrible at all. In fact, no other name he called her was such a turn on. Her skin tingled and a fire ignited below when he said that name. Mikala wanted to be here, wanted to be nowhere else, but if she was going to resist him, he had to stop being such a temptation. The sensual spice he emitted from every pore needed to die away. The flame, although tucked safely away in the far recesses of her heart was still burning for him and it had to be extinguished, and the only way that was going to happen was if she acted as if she hated him.

  “It’s just not appropriate.”

  His head tipped back and his arm crossed over his chest like a shield as he roared with laughter. “Since when have you given a shit with what’s appropriate? Sugar, you fucking kill me.”

  “Fuck you!” she spit out, striking his forearm with the back of her hand.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Mason said, reaching round her and grabbing an apple from the basket at the back of the counter. His chest pushed to her back and she heard him breathing in her scent before he sauntered off.

  From the corner of her eye she could see him playing with his computer. “Orange chicken and wild rice?” she called out.

  “Sounds good,” he said, as casually as he could muster.

  Staring at the screen of the laptop, he attempted to appear unaffected by her presence. But if he stood the affect she was having on his libido would be quite apparent as his cock pressed along the inseam of his jeans and threatened to split it wide open. From where he sat, he had full view of the kitchen area and every move Mikala made. Happy that she was turned away he stirred in his seat and adjusted himself.

  Lowering his head so he was hidden behind the screen and she could stop distracting him, he cruised through the list of inventory held in his warehouse. Chase had emailed the clubs layout and gave Mason free reign to make the premises as secure as he felt was necessary. Fort Knox wouldn’t be safe enough in his opinion when it came to Mikala.

  Overkill, he thought running his hand through his hair and cracking his neck from side to side. It wasn’t Trump Towers after all, it was a basic four lever adjoined structure with a front and rear entrance and private stairs to the apartment.

  “Dinner,” Mikala called.

  Instead of setting the table, two places were set at the island side by side. Mason stood back and watched as Mikala set down a pepper shaker and sat. He made a move toward the cupboard and she pointed a warning finger in his direction, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What?” he asked, with an air of innocence.

  “No salt.”

  Ignoring her, he opened the cupboard door and rummaged through a variety of spice shakers, he narrowed his eyes and glared.

  “I threw it out. You know you’re not supposed to use it.”

  He plunked his butt on the stool beside her and growled at the contents on his plate. “Who are you, my fucking mother?” he asked, caustically.

  “Excuse me for giving a shit.”

  Hiding his obvious elation behind a scowl, he wasn’t sure if she realized her slip, the open admittance to caring for him.

  Mason stabbed his fork and knife into his chicken breast with all the grace of a football player in steel toed boots performing the male lead in Swan Lake. He stared straight ahead stuffing his face while Mikala shuffled her meal around on her plate, something she did when she was upset. A habit that Mason was well aware of, a trick she had used to make it look like she was eating something and all the while she barely ate a bite.

  “Can we call a fucking truce?” Mason asked, taking her hand and removing the fork from her grasp, “This isn’t going to work if we can’t get along for five minutes.”

  “I guess I can give you five minutes.”

  He pinched her chin between his thumb and fingers and scowled, “Truce..?”

  Mikala’s heart was racing, she could feel his pulse from the tips of his fingers on her jaw and he was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. The smell of him, the sound, the sight, she would need more than a truce. She would need a god damn fortress erected to block all her sense.

  “Well, sugar?” he asked, allowing his hand to slide down her neck. He thrilled at the way it felt to hold her dominantly. It had been a long, long time since he had touched her at all, let alone sexually. He released her before she answered.

  She picked up her fork and waved it dangerously in his face, “You stick to the rules and we have a deal.”

  Neither one of them finished their meals as an uneasy pressure dangled in the air. Truth be told, it was a dangerous case of sexual tension squeezing tighter by the minute. Mikala shoved her plate away and Mason started to clean up, anything to create a distance.

  Mikala watched Mason finish up the dishes while she sipped on a glass of wine he had handed her without asking. Each muscle in his back rippled, loosened and tightened deliciously and each time he bent over to put something away, Mikala ogled his gluteus maximus with absolute appreciation. She always admired his ass; it was the kind of ass that filled out a pair of jean beautifully and thoughts of touching, licking and biting it had her near breathless.

  It was awkward as neither of them spoke, each wishing for an escape not because they wanted to get away from each other, but because they wanted nothing more than to be together.

  “If you want more wine you know where it is. I have some work to do,” Mason announced. He took a beer from the fridge and got comfortable at his computer.

  He spent a few hours working out a rough floor plan for new cameras and a trip system for the stairs, also a silent alarm system of colorful lasers he had designed, but hadn’t had the opportunity to use. Acting as a deterrent, a road block of sorts, the beams would be extremely visible to a would-be robber sto
pping them before they started with less damage in the long run. Mason was in the midst of selling the idea to insurance companies, although the cost factor was preventing his idea from launching, people just couldn’t see past the almighty buck to the safety considerations.

  The apartment was dark except for the glow from the computer, the green banker’s desk lamp on Mason’s desk and the LED screen in the living area. He opened the fridge and grabbed another beer, twisted the cap off and stood against the counter watching Mikala sleeping on the couch. She had pulled the afghan from the back and cocooned it around her. All he could see were her face and a bare foot dangling over the edge of the couch.

  As crazy a situation as it was, it almost felt like home. The two of them together there in the loft, it was home. Not that long ago all had been right in the world. He would often work well into the night and she would fall asleep in front of the TV, then he’d carry her to bed and make love to her when she woke with a sleepy smile. Many a night she came in late from the club and woke him naked with a cheeky grin. He chugged back his beer and adjusted his semi hard-on and walked over to where she lay.

  “Time for bed, sugar,” he whispered, lifting her easily into his arms. He carried her up the stairs to the hideaway and tucked her under the sheets. Her brows knit together and he watched her rustle under the covers until she manipulated the sheets just so and her foot peeked over the mattresses edge. He smiled walking away when he heard his name.

  “Goodnight, Mason,” she whispered, and rolled facing away.

  “Sleep tight, sugar.”

  He lay in bed watching her foot picturing his tongue stroking across the arch and working his way up her thigh trying to recall the taste of her. He ran his hand through his hair frustrated that somehow he’d forgotten. What he would give for just one more taste. He closed his eyes willing the night to do its job and deliver him into peaceful slumber.

  Light streaked across the room with an unmistakably bright sunny day in the prospects, when Mason opened his eyes. The clock said eight as he dragged his ass out of bed and onto the floor for a few sets of sits-ups, push-ups and much needed stretches.