Stars glittered in a cloudless night sky, and Fay was so distracted by the view that she almost missed the turn. The detective turned the steering wheel hard right, and now the little black car sped up the hill, past idyllic-looking suburban mansions. Stately street lights finally ruined the starry view as she pulled up to a stop in front of Mason's mansion and pressed the button on the call box.
"Hey, it's me," she said, sounding as bored as possible. She didn't want to acknowledge the sudden uptick in her beating heart. It had been four days since her conversation with Mason. She had been putting off their first night together, hoping for a break in the case so that she wouldn't even need his intel.
But...no such luck. Their second vic, Jessica Carleton, was still in a coma. Whether or not she ever woke up was still a roll of the dice. So, here Fay was. She was actually going to go through with this bizarre, if somewhat steamy arrangement. Three nights of passion with her ex-boyfriend from high school and college in exchange for the intel she needed thanks to his shady connections with Southside Rain, a notorious gang which was connected to both her case and the two killers she now hunted.
When she pulled up, a man in a black suit and silver tie strode up and bowed politely.
"Miss Gracey, I've been instructed to park your vehicle," he said.
Damn. Was Mason so loaded that the man actually had servants at his beck and call? Fay shook her head, but she couldn't stop the thought from forming. 'Must be nice. I guess crime pays a hell of a lot better than catching bad guys.' The idea rankled her more than a little, so she was still frowning when Mason opened the front door before she could even knock.
"Fay," he said calmly, his eyes smoldering. "Good of you to come."
Wearing her favorite leather jacket and tight jeans, Fay put her hands on her hips and gave him a sardonic look.
"You act like I had much of a choice." The undercurrent of her tone was clear. This was coercion, using her own emotional baggage with him and the lingering guilt she felt that he was now risking his life to get her information, in order to get her into his bed.
"You always have a choice, Fay," Mason reminded her as he stepped aside, let her walk through, and closed the door behind her.
Fay turned toward him, and now she had a chance to really look at Mason. He hadn't changed much, not at first glance. Mason's dark hair was cut short, as usual. His hawk-like nose and unforgiving gray eyes took everything in, like there was a hunger there that would never be sated. He was fit, muscular even, but not too muscular. At about 6'3, he was a good bit taller than her 5'9. He had on a cleanly-pressed button-down white shirt, dark slacks, and polished black shoes. His face was lean but not narrow, the proportions perfect, and even Fay had to admit, his mouth was as kissable as ever.
"You like my new place? Well, it's not really new...it's been what, five years since we last saw each other?"
They'd spoken off and on since, corresponded and kept in touch, but of course that wasn't the same. Fay was about to open her mouth to say 'Let's get this over with. Take me upstairs,' when Mason did what she knew Mason was hard-wired to do: He took charge.
"Take off your clothes."
Fay blinked. This was brisk, even for Mason. Perhaps he'd changed more than appearance seemed to suggest.
"Um...no?"
His eyes bored into her. "You know the deal, Fay. You do whatever I say, 'no exceptions.'"
The blonde girl suddenly felt her face getting hot. "Within reason," she ground out through clenched teeth.
"This is within reason," he insisted. He spread his arms wide. "Come now, are you going to adhere to our agreement or not? I can't show you what we could be together unless you trust me, Fay. The first step is for you to risk yourself for me, just as I'm risking myself for you. So I'll say it again, darling. Take your clothes off."
Fay couldn't believe this was happening, but the detective thought, 'What the hell, if he wants to take me right here in the foyer, if it'll get me the information I need, fine.' She stripped out of her leather coat and jeans. Next she took off her shoes and socks. Elegantly, Fay unclasped her bra and let it slide off her shoulders, her full breasts popping into view. Lastly, she slipped her panties down her legs, past her ankles, and tossed them on top of her clothes.
"Happy?" she said, giving him her most cynical look.
He came up to her, standing close. They were now inches apart. He placed a hand gently on one of her ass cheeks, cupping her bare skin. She looked down and saw the noticeable bulge underneath his slacks.
"It's a start," he said with a dark smirk that somehow didn't detract from the deadly-serious sheen in his eyes. "Come." He possessively kept that hand on her ass cheek as he walked her down a flight of carpeted stairs, and into the basement. Fay thought about slapping his hand away, but if she did that, chances were that he would just become even more difficult to deal with. Besides, she didn't entirely mind his hand on her ass. She remembered Mason's hands, very capable hands, doing other things to her back in college...
"What were you thinking just now?" he said as they stopped in front of an ornate wooden door.
"I was just thinking about my case," she said stubbornly.
His jaw clenched, his eyes flaring. "You're lying." Dammit, how could he still read her so well after five years apart?
Fay was about to protest, about to conveniently fail to mention the growing desire she felt the longer he kept that hand on her ass. But his other hand was already cupping her chin. He leaned forward, his lips teasing hers, giving her a gentle, fleeting kiss before pulling away.
"You want to deny what you feel, Fay. That armor you keep around you day in and day out, I understand it. Given what you do, I understand it all too well."
Surprised at how difficult it felt to breathe, Fay's tone was nonetheless low and dangerous.