Free Wrapped Up in a Beau by Angelita Gill Page A

“Don’t you? Throw me a life raft here. I’m drowning.”
    â€œIt’s more like I find you—amusing.”
    â€œGood enough. I’ll amuse you all night long.”
    She laughed again, a musical sound. He found it contagious, and he knew he’d won. She bit her lip, gave it another moment of consideration then nodded. “All right, I’ll go out with you. But on one condition.”
    â€œLet’s hear it.”
    â€œYou promise to spend time with your family, too.”
    â€œDone.” He came toward her. “Shake on it?”
    She eyed his hand with suspicion before reaching out. He snatched it, yanking her to him, and kissed her. In the instant their mouths met, electric desire blindsided his original intention to be playful, to catch her off guard. But she caught him off guard as she combed her fingers behind his head, arching into him. His need met hers, and he moaned, their tongues tangling.
    Heat speared upward, ignited by the taste of her, the urgency in her kiss. Then her mouth softened, slowed, and he slid his hand from her hip, over her round butt and up her back, the ends of her long hair tickling his forearm. A woman so feminine and sweet, she struck possessiveness in him he didn’t know he had. As if she was made for him exclusively. Perfectly curved and scented just right to make him forget all others.
    He fastened his mouth on her neck, and pushed her to the wall. Wanting to feast on more, he stretched the collar of her sweater to expose her shoulder, moving to sample her there. Smooth, silky, sweet skin. He licked with a gentle bite. When she fisted her hand in his hair to drag his mouth back to hers, he went in rough, greedily. His hand skimmed down her arm, moving to grasp her hip, digging his fingers in. He pushed against her; he was hard, and he wanted her to know it. Swirling his tongue over hers, hearing her moan, he barely registered the shrill ringing cutting through the quiet room.
    The phone. She broke the kiss, pushing him back, blinking as if coming to her senses. Mason straightened, out of breath, keeping his eyes locked with hers while the phone rang. Raking a hand through his hair, he stepped away, giving her space. Greta righted her sweater, cleared her throat and walked over to the phone. She picked it up, answering the call a little winded. “Hi, Ben…yes. Spaghetti would be great. I’m—famished.”
    Whoa. Saved by the butler. Now would be a good time to go. Or else he’d want more from her, and didn’t want to push his luck. Mason opened the door to leave and she covered up the receiver with her hand. “Mason…”
    He shook his head with a smile then pointed to her, finding his hand shaking. “The next time we kiss,” he uttered, his voice rasp, “it’ll be because you came to me .” With that, he gave her a wink and walked out the door.

Chapter Seven
    â€œCome on out, Mason,” Greta called, exchanging amused glances with his sister while they waited for him to emerge from the dressing room.
    â€œI feel ridiculous,” Mason complained.
    Greta sighed. “You’re being ridiculous.”
    â€œStop acting like a child, big brother. What you feel is irrelevant in this case.” She winked at Greta.
    â€œThese tights aren’t rational,” he declared. “I could easily wear real, modern pants and the children wouldn’t notice the difference.”
    â€œMan up and wear the costume as it’s meant to be,” Sophie demanded. “Or else I’ll make you read to the entire Wanderheim brood by yourself.”
    â€œYou’re kidding, right? You said there are five of them!”
    â€œDo I sound like I’m kidding?”
    The trio was in a powder room near the executive offices of the hotel. Mason kicked the dressing room door open, scowling. Greta bit back a laugh, pressing her lips together. Not because of how the outfit looked on