He’d crawled out of bed early even for him when he’d realized sleep was futile. Taken a hot shower, turning the faucet to full blown cold right before he shut it off, leaving him gasping. The icy water hadn’t gotten rid of his hard-on though, so he’d jacked off yet again to thoughts of Blake.
This agony he put himself through was twisted. It wasn’t right. Denying himself like this, something he normally didn’t do. He wanted something, he went after it. Whether it be a job, a goal or a woman, he pretty much always got what he wanted. All it took was pure determination and a little bit of grit.
If he so chose, he knew he could walk into that house right now, press her against the kitchen counter and take her from behind, she’d let him. Hell, she’d probably beg him for it. Cry out when he entered her, coming all over his cock in mere seconds.
That image had him tripping over his own goddamn feet.
Wiping at the sweat on his forehead, he shook his head. This wasn’t his style. And it was screwing with him like nothing ever had.
He thought the run would help. Empty his brain, wear out his body. He’d circled the Hewitt property again and again, not wanting to go too far, not about to shirk on his responsibility. When really he wanted to run far away from Blake, take a breather and screw his head back on straight.
Slowing his pace, he walked down the driveway, straight toward heaven or hell, depending on his mood. Right about now, he believed it a straight descent into hell. She stood at the kitchen counter, staring with wide eyes out the large window, straight at him. Those very windows were a huge security risk.
Hell, his brain was basically fried from recent events, but at least he was still thinking, always the agent. Thank Christ for that.
Her gaze didn’t leave him as he came down the driveway, drawing closer to her. But he wasn’t ready to face her yet. What would he say?
Damn, I couldn’t stop touching you last night, didn’t want to either. But we can’t take it that far, babe. Sorry.
Yeah, she’d appreciate that. Her calm words last night had sent a chill down his spine after he refused her. Her eyes like ice, her expression perfectly composed. As if what happened between them hadn’t fazed her in the least.
He was the one always in control while she flailed around like a lost little puppy. The tables had turned and he didn’t like it. But he couldn’t do anything to change his circumstance. He’d just have to deal with it, with him, with her.
Mason only hoped he was strong enough.
His cell phone jangled in his sweatshirt pocket and he yanked it out, answering immediately when he saw who was on the other end. “Good morning, sir.”
“Russell, how are you? I’m trusting everything is calm on the island front?”
Mason headed into the smaller cabin, away from Blake’s prying eyes and scrumptious body. It made him mighty uncomfortable, having such wicked thoughts when he spoke to her father. His boss.
He hated how he needed to remind himself of that fact on a daily, no hourly basis. Only then he could keep his hands off her.
“Everything is fine, sir. No unusual activities, it’s calm here. Rather uneventful.”
Ha.
“Good, glad to hear it. Wanted to check in and make sure everything’s all right with Blake. I’m hoping you’ll accompany her when she makes her return to Washington.”
“And when is that, sir?” He had a vague notion but wanted to confirm it.
“Election Day, of course, or she could possibly come back the night before. I need her here during the various events that evening so my family can appear together. It’s imperative we present that united front.”
Poor Blake. He wondered if her father had said it to her like that. Knowing her, hearing her father’s words would’ve upset her.
“After the uproar over those scandalous photographs, I need her to look like the abiding daughter. And I told her just that. She was agreeable, thank God. I spoke with her last evening.”
Realization dawned. Talking to her father had to be the reason Blake had been crying last night.
“I have no right to ask you of this, but you need to keep her in line. She can’t really get into much trouble out there, but knowing Blake, she’ll look for it. Go to some small town bar and make a fool of herself, hurt herself, hurt me. And right now, I can’t afford to get hurt. My image is tainted enough already.”
Mason was surprised Hewitt didn’t tack the words “by Blake” on the end of that particular sentence.
“Can you handle it, Russell? I don’t mean to imply you’re her babysitter but...we know she needs one.”
Right. He was the babysitter who wanted to strip every article of clothing from Blake’s gorgeous body and sample her slowly. The word babysitter made him feel like a complete pervert.
If anything, he was the one who needed to stay away from Blake. Not become her overbearing protector.