“Oh, um . . .” I glimpse around, trying to figure out where we can go and doctor my ass while he talks. Rules are restricted to no guys backstage so that leaves . . . “Here.” I open the door to one of the private rooms. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
After a quick trip to my dressing table for a small first aid kit that I’ve only had to use for foot blisters, I go back to the private room to find Mason standing uncomfortably in the corner rather than sitting on the red velvet couch.
I close the door behind me and hit the “occupied” slider. His eyes widen. “Don’t worry, it’s just . . . These rooms are reserved for private dances. I get the feeling you wouldn’t want anyone walking in here and thinking the worst of you. ”
“Right, um . . .” He reaches out and grabs the kit from my hand then looks around. “Is it possible to get more light in here?”
I reach over and click on the overhead fluorescent bulbs that are usually only used at the end of the night for cleaning purposes. We both squint as our eyes adjust to the brightness.
“Better.” He pops open the kit and motions to me. “Go ahead and stand there.” He points to the armrest at the end of the couch.
I do as he instructs, but shake my head. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“No? You think you can bandage your own ass?” He chuckles, and the sound rolls through me like warm honey.
“I could have one of the girls help me out.” Why does my voice sound so weak?
I hear him move behind me before I feel the heat of his huge body close to my back.
“Really, it’s the least I can do.” He rips open a package. “Hmm . . . if you could, um . . .” His voice is lower, as if he’s crouched to put his eyes at ass level. “Just uh, lean forward and arch your back so I can, um, get underneath.”
I tuck a grin into my shoulder at the discomfort I hear in his voice, grateful that I’m finally making him as unsettled as I feel around him. I’m all too comfortable shoving my butt in a man’s face, clearly something Mason isn’t used to. I brace my weight on the chair, arch my back, and just for fun I walk my feet apart just a few inches.
Making a man squirm is one of my most favorite things to do. And considering how shaken up he made me, this transfer of power is one of the best feelings I’ve felt in a long time.
“How’s this?” I peek at him from over my shoulder, and his eyes are fixed, staring straight ahead and right between my legs.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, like a moan but with more edge. “Good.”
His hot breath feathers against my skin, shooting straight between my legs. No, no, no, no, Trix. Rule number one, do not get turned on. Sure, Mason is big, gorgeous, and smells like sugar and earth mixed, but I’m in control.
“This might sting.”
Cold hits my wound and I flinch slightly.
He dabs at my raw ass and fire ignites across my skin. “Who knows what kind of shit is living on the floor out there.”
I suck in air through my teeth.
He keeps dabbing, but his touch is lighter. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I grit my teeth. A whimper falls from my lips.
“Shh . . . almost done.”
“Damn, that hurts.” I drop my chin and breathe deep.
“I know. I’m sorry. The only thing this kit has is alcohol.” He sounds pissed, but his touch is still gentle. “Hang in there.”
“Keep talking. It helps.”
He laughs low and sexy. “Okay.”
And we’re back to sweet. The way he is with me now is such a contrast to his loss of control after our accidental run in. Now, he reminds me of that man who gave Denny confidence he’d never had before, or comforted a very sad woman who burst into tears just from being on the receiving end of that kindness.
“That girl, Jess? Is she an ex or something?”
His hand stills for a few pregnant seconds. “Jessica?” The sting of alcohol is back. “She, um . . . She was a long time ago.” He stops and rips open more packages. “She and my brother have been together now for years.”
“Your brother? So the guy with the”—I pause, trying to think of a polite way to say—“big ole scar on his face”.
“Drake, yeah.” His finger swipes across my wound, this time warm and smooth like ointment.
“I didn’t think you guys were related. I guess there’s a little resemblance.” The burning begins to numb.
“He’s the darker, stockier, uglier version of me.” He sticks what feels like a Band-Aid on my backside. “There ya go. All set.”
He pushes up, and I turn to thank him, only to realize that he’s still just a few inches away, so close I can smell the whiskey and mint of his breath.
“Look, Trix. I feel like an ass. I’ve run into you twice, and both times I was a dick.”
“No biggie.” My eyes are locked on his, and I can’t look away. “I figured you weren’t yourself.”
His eyebrows pinch, but his lips curl. “You figured? You don’t even know me.”
“I know men.” I tilt my head and study him. “You don’t have it in you to be a full-time jerk. Part-time? Maybe. You’re a good guy at heart.”