“He wouldn’t kill you, Mason,” I whisper, half trying to be quiet, and half petrified by the feeling in my chest. Almost as if I’ve lost control over my own body, my fingers slide up Mason’s side. I graze the firmness of his stomach with my thumbs, taking my time to trace along the hard lines of his abs and chest until I’m at his collarbone. I hesitate, the reason-side of my brain questioning everything I’m doing, but then Mason’s hands find my wrists, and he holds them in place against him, his feet closing the inches now between us until I can feel every breath tickle my ear.
“You sure about that?” he asks, dragging those words out slowly across his lips. The sound of his voice is different now. It’s not flirtatious like before. This sound is deeper, hungrier—it’s suggestive and luring, and it’s breaking down every defense I have left. My eyes are trained on his fingers, his grip strong around my arms. That’s the only barrier I have left, and I know the moment I look into his eyes, I will forever be lost.
I consider every angle, avoiding the choice I want to make—the obvious choice—until I no longer can, and I look up at him to find his eyes waiting. His room is dark, and most of his body is cast in a shadow, but the moonlight traces his face, illuminating his eyes. I know my body is shivering, and I know he can feel it, but he’s looking at me like I’m strong, like I’m his equal. His long lashes fall slowly as he shuts his eyes, and his forehead moves to rest against mine.
“I’m battling here, Avery,” he says, his voice quiet but rough. “I want to kiss you so goddamned bad. But I told you I’d wait until you were ready. And tonight—”
I manage to free one of my hands from his grip, and I press my fingers to his lips, stopping him from making any more excuses. I linger there, feeling his lips open barely, his teeth grazing against my skin, and the sensation forces my eyes closed too. I will never be ready to kiss Mason Street. I won’t be ready, because I’ve spent a decade training myself to not want him. And then, when Adam left me, he crushed my spirit, and my taste for passion went away with it.
But I feel like this Mason might be my only chance—and I feel like if I don’t let down my guard, just a little, he may never try. I’ve done regret, and I don’t like it.
“Mason, what happened earlier…tonight? That had no effect on how I feel…” I swallow hard, willing myself to say the last few words, “about you.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Mason’s muscles to get any tenser, but they do the second I say that sentence. I force myself to live this moment, to accept it, and I open my eyes slowly to find Mason’s reflecting everything I’m feeling back at me.
“Avery…” he says, his breath barely able to complete my name. His hands slide up my shoulders and neck slowly, until they cup my face, urging my chin higher until our noses are touching. We’re so close…when he licks his lips, I feel the tip of his tongue barely touch my top lip, and my entire body is on fire, tingling with desire, and begging for his touch.
Every instinct within me is telling me to run, but I push that urge down deep—this time, I let my heart have what it wants. When I feel his warm breath against my lips, I close my eyes tightly in anticipation, but his kiss doesn’t come—not yet. I feel his fingers slide back into my hair, his right hand moving to the base of my neck while his forehead is still against mine.
A tiny breath escapes me, and I know he hears it, because the second it does, he moves his other hand to my shoulder and slides his fingers slowly under the strap of my dress, lifting it and dragging the knotted strings down the crest of my shoulder. His nose traces the line from my jaw down my neck until his lips find my bare skin, where he leaves his first kiss—soft, and sweet.
He does the same to the other shoulder, until the only thing holding up my dress is the tightness of the fabric around my br**sts. I feel his hands begin to move around my body while his lips work their way along my collarbone, and my pulse is racing with nerves, and want, and fear. He can feel me shake, and just as his fingertips find the edge of my zipper, his lips hit my ear.
“I’m going to kiss you, Avery, and it’s going to be the best f**king kiss you’ve ever had,” he says, his teeth pulling on the edge of my ear while he breathes. “But I want to feel your body, too. And this dress…as adorable as it is…is just getting in my way.”
All I can do is nod yes. I know if I try to speak, the words will fail me. I feel a chill along my spine with every inch Mason lowers my zipper, until his hand glides over the bare skin of my back. Seconds later, the dress falls in a pool around my feet. I’m about to step from it and kick it aside, when Mason’s hands lift me to him, gripping my thighs, until my legs wrap around him on instinct.