I slurp down the last of my milkshake, still grinning. “It’s hard to believe we’d both spent time on the same sand but it took us moving to Vegas to actually meet.”
He grabs our plates and takes them to the kitchen. “Guess Fate had plans for us, yeah?”
“Hm.” Fate. I’m not sure I believe in that anymore.
As a child, it’s easy to trust that there’s something bigger than yourself. That God is leading you on a path through life with your best interests in mind. Being adopted by American parents and rescued from the life of an orphan only proved that belief.
But my sister being brutally murdered squashed all that. After all, God could’ve saved her if he’d wanted to, right? If my best interests were of any concern to him at all, she’d still be alive today.
Guilt presses down on me, and I slump deep into Mason’s couch.
“You tired?” He plops down on the couch next to me, his powerful arms spread wide across the back of the couch, and eyebrows lowered in concern.
“Not really. You?”
His gaze sweeps over my body. “No.” He blinks and reaches for the television remote. “You up for a movie?”
The screen lights with a movie rental company that displays multiple movie options and a search box.
“Sure.” I shift on the couch, trying to get comfortable despite my short dress.
“Wait.” He hops from the couch and takes two stairs at a time up to a second floor loft.
I grab the abandoned remote and flip through screen pages of movies. A guy like Mason probably prefers something with blood and explosions; I’m more of a romantic comedy kind of girl. I chew my lip and flip to the horror movies. Would it be too obvious to pick something that would force me to curl close and bury my face in his chest?
“Here.” He hands me two folded-up pieces of clothing, and I resist the urge to rub my face in them and inhale. “Thought you might want to get more comfortable.”
I shake out the soft white T-shirt and light blue boxers. “Huh.” I lift an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a boxer man.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not, but I have a few pairs lying around.”
“Thank you. These are perfect.” I scoot to the edge of the couch and pull off my bangle bracelets, earrings, and necklace to set them on the coffee table. Ah, I already feel lighter. I stand to pull my dress over my head and figure, while I’m at it, axing the strapless bra would restart proper circulation to my arms. I hate these damn things. Tossing it all to the table, I reach for the shirt only to have Mason grip my wrist.
“Trix . . .” The guttural sound of his voice calls my eyes. He’s peeking up at me from beneath heavy eyelids, his eyebrows low and hunger radiating from his gaze. “What’re you doing?”
I shake my head, not fully understanding his question. “I’m . . . I thought—”
He yanks my arm and grabs my hips, pulling me over to straddle his lap. “You thought you could strip naked and I’d just sit back and admire?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I didn’t realize—”
He flexes his hips, and a low groan falls from his lips. I gasp at the feeling of him hard between my legs.
“Realize it now?”
I nod quickly. “I’m sorry?” I’ve gotten naked in front of countless men and women, and never have I felt so exposed.
He cups the side of my neck, his thumb brushing against my jawline. “Don’t apologize.” He drops his hand slowly so the backs of his knuckles skate along the side of my breast. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I think . . .” God, what do I think? Feel? My head swirls with conflicting emotions, part of me wanting to hold on and the other terrified of acknowledging too much. “I’m so used to being naked.”
“Mm, I get that.” His hands make long and gentle passes up my sides, around my back and over my shoulders, avoiding my breasts completely.
I ache all over for him, wanting his touch to be firmer, secretly hoping he’ll lose control and get rough. I want him to take from me because then I won’t have to feel. I won’t have to think and second guess. If he were like all the others, after me for one thing, this would be so much easier. But this tenderness, his touch against the inside of my elbow, the flare of my hips, and my collarbone, it’s all too much.
“Mason, I—”
“I wanted to kill him,” he says so softly I wonder if I misheard. “The night at the hotel room you were straddling Jayden like this, and he touched you.” His eyes flash to mine with steely resolve as his hands continue to move over my skin. “I wanted to rip his arms off his body.”
“Why? You hated me.”
“I never hated you, baby.” His fingers fork into my hair, and his lips are so close I can feel his heated breath. “I was a goner the second I laid eyes on you.”