Chapter 19: Eighteen

Confession #17: I had a bad habit of setting myself up for temptation.

When Reese left through the back door, I followed. I didn’t want to be anywhere else but with her, and besides, a trio of girls who’d gathered at the other end of the hall were eyeing me as they sipped their drinks, and from the expressions on their faces, they thought they owned me. Made me think they were little Patricias in training.

So I fled from them and stuck with Reese.

She looked at me lustfully sometimes, too, but I liked the way ~she~ watched me, like I was something awe-inspiring and important, ~not~ like something she wanted to train and bend to her will. The way her eyes heated made me feel special. Essential.

When she glanced back at me now, however, her gaze seemed wary and instantly on guard.

“Or…you could just, you know, come ~with~ me,” she said slowly, making it clear that my following her made her uncomfortable.

I didn’t want to make her uneasy. That was the very last thing on my agenda. But I also refused to be left alone at this party.

So I made a joke of it. “Hey, you’re not leaving me in there by myself with fifty other Eva Mercers lurking about. I might be molested before you returned.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, rolling me a dry look over her shoulder. “Drama much?”

I shrugged, letting her decide for herself how accurate I was being.

She sniffed and started up a darkened staircase. “Well, just don’t expect me to jump in front of you like some kind of human shield if any frisky females come flying out of the shadows to ambush you for a freebie.”

With a laugh, I followed her up. “I’ll be sure to toss you in front of me ~against~ your will, then.”

“Ha, real funny, smart-ass.” At the landing, we stopped, and I listened to her in front of me, her keys jingling.

I frowned, wondering if she did this every night she babysat: stood out here in the pitch-dark night, fumbling with keys.

I was about to ask if there was a light around when she said, “Here we go,” and unlocked the door.

Suddenly realizing I was following her alone, inside the place where she lived, my libido sprang to life. As I stepped into the front room behind her, all I could think about was all the places I could take her in here.

I pictured myself shoving that textbook she had lying open on the coffee table aside so she could sit there, facing me, as I unzipped my jeans. Or I could clearly see us curled up in the blanket that lay wadded on the couch, both of us naked underneath. Or I could heft her up onto the kitchen cabinets among the dirty dishes and step between her spread thighs so I could give her a long, drawn-out kiss as I pushed inside her.

Before I knew it, I was actually walking around the apartment, fantasy after fantasy springing to life inside me. The place was small, quaint, and perfect. Like a love nest.

Nodding, I glanced at her. “Yeah,” I said, “I have to say, you were right. This is pretty awesome. I could live here with no problem.” When I caught sight of an apple sitting in a fruit basket on the table, I grinned. Since me taking her food was our thing, I snagged it and buffed it against the shoulder of my shirt.

Reese sighed and shook her head. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

I met her gaze as I took that first slow bite. “What? Resist your forbidden fruit? Hell no.” Then I winked and chewed. “What do you think of them apples?”

She snorted. “I think your pun is corny and pathetic.”

Except she really didn’t at all, and we both knew it.

I laughed and kept eating, trying to temper the desire that was roaring through me. “So, where’s this book?”

“In my room.”

Of course, it was.

She hurried through a side doorway, and because I was a glutton for punishment, I wandered to the entrance.

I knew I shouldn’t go in. I was already knocking at temptation’s door; I was being a complete idiot for even coming here tonight. But hell, I’d already gone this far, and I ached to see her room, the bed she slept on each night, the sheets that touched her skin when she dreamed.

The need was more addictive than I could resist.

I stepped inside.

The space was snug, real snug, which was probably why it smelled so strongly of her. Her scent was literally trapped in this place. Not much more than a small bed, dresser, and miniature bookshelf adorned it. We’d have to get close in here. We’d have to ~stay~ close.

I went rock-solid hard.

No one knew I was here. Not Monica, not Patricia. No one would make a case of it. No one would know anything we did.

Watching Reese’s lines bloom into delicious curves as she bent down to fetch the second ~Harry Potter~ book for me, I played with the idea in my head.

Just one night. What could it hurt? One night to live out my ultimate fantasy of being with Reese.

It would be wrong. So fucking wrong.

But it’d be worth it to finally taste her. To ~take~ her.

She straightened and turned back to me, not expecting me to be there.

“Oh!” she gasped, skidding to a halt before bumping into me. “There you are.”

She looked scared and intimidated, but also about as turned on as I felt.

“Do you… I mean…” Her hands began to shake around the book she clutched. Her timid gaze lifted to me. In them, I saw question, hesitation, but also yearning. “You can take the entire series now if you’d like. That way you won’t have to wait between each book until I can get the next one to you.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” I said, staring straight into her eyes. “In fact, I like building up the anticipation.”

She caught her breath and shuddered. When her gaze moved to my mouth, my cock pulsed greedily.

I studied her, debating my next move.

Could I really do this? Throw caution to the wind and have her? Right here? Right now?

Oh, hell, yes. Of course, I could. But ~should~ I?

Absolutely not.

So… ~Would~ I?

God, I didn’t know. I guess it would be up to her. If she gave me the slightest signal to proceed, I’d crumble like a stack of cards and be on her so fast both our heads would spin. But what would she do if ~I~ pressed the situation?

I shouldn’t find out. I really, really shouldn’t. I was the kind of person that should go nowhere ~near~ a sweet, innocent girl like Reese Randall.

Feeling like the dirty, predatory wolf I knew I was, I turned away, trying to cool myself down, and in doing so, I focused on all the lotion bottles and other cosmetics she kept scattered on her dresser top.

Idly, I opened one and sniffed, mostly for something to do to distract myself from how much I wanted her, but as soon as I did, I almost groaned and my eyes nearly crossed from the pleasure, because damn… The origin of Reese’s scent was sitting in my hand.

“You wore this Friday,” I said, glancing at her… ~And Thursday, and Wednesday, and Tuesday, as well as right now~.

She nodded silently, just watching me.

I read the label. “Sweet pea.” An affectionate grin lit my face. “So fitting.”

As if watching me hold her lotion was more than she could take, she slipped the container from my hand and returned it to its place. “I was thinking of getting a bottle for Sarah. Do you think she’d like this fragrance?”

“Don’t you dare,” I said before I could check myself. When she frowned slightly, I explained, “This is ~your~ scent. It would be too weird to smell it on my little sister.” Especially since it gave me a hard-on every time I got a whiff of it. Smelling it meant ~Reese~ was near.

“I guess I could get her some cucumber melon then. Or warm vanil—”

When she began to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, I caught her hand, startling her quiet. “If your hair getting in your face bothers you that much, why don’t you ever tie it back?”

She blinked at me repeatedly before shaking her head slightly. “You know I never tie my hair back?”

I shifted closer. I don’t know why I was doing this. It was wrong to mess around with her—it could only hurt her—but I couldn’t seem to stop. “I know you’re always pushing it out of your eyes,” I said.

Her gaze glazed and lips parted. A part of me knew exactly what was happening to her under those clothes she wore. Her nipples were puckering tight, aching to be sucked as moisture gathered at the seam of her sex, readying her body for me.

“I don’t know,” she said with a loose shrug even as color heightened the tops of her cheeks and her breathing shuddered unsteadily. “Don’t… Don’t you guys prefer long, flowing hair?”

I caught a strand of her dark locks and ran it through my fingers. “I can’t speak for other guys but, yeah, I guess I do like it long and flowing.” Because that’s how she had ~her~ hair. Finally focusing on what we were actually talking about, I sent her a disappointed glance. “So this is just to attract a guy then?” I didn’t like thinking of her as man-hunting. “Anyone specific?”

She cleared her throat and looked down. “No. Not necessarily. I just… I personally think I look best this way.”

Relieved by that answer, I lifted another piece of hair on the other side of her cheek until I was nearly cupping her face. She slowly lifted her gaze.

“Does this mean you’ll have caught your guy whenever you show up on campus someday with your hair in a ponytail?”

She blinked, probably not prepared for me to keep on with this conversation…when I could so easily just lean in and kiss her. “Well, then I’ll have to ~keep~ his attention, so probably not.”

I combed my finger through the dark strands until I’d gathered it all into a ponytail with my hand. “I don’t think you ever have to worry about what your hair looks like in order to attract a guy.” She could be bald or have a frizzed-out mess, and I was sure I’d still want her right now, more than I ever wanted anyone. “You have too many other intriguing attributes to keep them interested.”

My thumb barely grazed the front of her throat.

Realization flooded her eyes. “Mason,” she damn near whispered, her body going taut and still. “What’re you doing?”

I moved in closer, pressing my forehead to hers. “Something I probably shouldn’t.”

But if she gave me the go-ahead, I’d keep doing it no matter how wrong it was. Because God, I wanted this. I wanted it so fucking much.

Her breath trembled from parted lips and her eyes went leery and tempted even as she said, “If… If you shouldn’t, then…don’t.”

Dammit.

I might have whimpered. But God, the rejection…

It hurt.

“Easier said than done,” I answered on a shaky voice, even as I combed my fingers through her hair again, one last time. But she didn’t stop me. In fact, she reached up and gripped my arm as if to keep me there, so my final caress lingered and just...kept going. I cupped the back of her neck and tipped her face up.

Nothing else mattered but learning what that mouth tasted like.

She leaned in as if to receive me. I whispered her name, my body igniting with the knowledge that I was actually with the girl whose name I said this time, the girl I ~wanted~ to be with.

How the hell was I lucky enough to be allowed here in this moment with her?

But then, it was all just stolen time, wasn’t it, because Reese seemed to come to her senses as she lowered her gaze and said, “I think… I think it’d be best if you stopped.”

Right.

Fuck. She’d already told me no. Why the hell hadn’t I stopped yet?

“Okay,” I said, except I wasn’t moving back. Shit. She needed to push me away or something, because I literally could not move back. My mouth was inches from hers, my forehead remained pressed against hers, and I swear our hearts were thumping in the same exact rhythm.

I eased my lips closer and shifted my hand along the back of her neck, trying to stimulate her into being the one to initiate the kiss. But my fingers suddenly seemed to realize the back of her neck felt different. The skin was marred, as if it held a scar.

When Reese went taut and her expression filled with apprehension, I frowned, wondering why she looked so worried.

Clutching her shoulders in my hands, I gently turned her around and lifted her hair out of my way, only to find a nasty scar that made me suck in a heavy breath.

“So you see,” she said, “~that’s~ why I don’t pull my hair up anymore.”

“This looks deep.” I gently prodded the wound. “What happened?”

She paused, then said, “I was cut.”

“I see that.” But… “~What~ cut you?”

“A knife.”

“A knife,” I repeated. Things inside me went tense and alarmed. A knife had cut her…on the back of the neck? “Did it cut you on purpose?”

“Maybe,” she hedged, which totally meant ~yes~.

Holy shit. Someone had gone after her with a ~knife~. Why? Why would someone want to hurt ~Reese~?

Protective rage roared through me. I wanted to damage whoever had hurt her, and I wanted to hit myself for not being there to shield her from this, all the while realizing I was the one exposing her to more danger right this very moment by merely being here in her presence.

When she shuddered against me, I pressed a kiss to the scar.

She murmured a regretful sound as I pulled away.

“If you don’t give away freebies,” she said, looking up at me, “then are you going to charge me for that?”

A spark of enraged pain roared through me at the reminder of what I was and why I shouldn’t even be here. But then… Shame flooded my bones, because I actually ~needed~ the prompt.

God, I was an ass. I was ~such~ an inconsiderate, idiot ass. I never should’ve even come here tonight to see her.

“No.” I kissed her scar yet again. “It wasn’t mouth to mouth, so no charge.”

She turned to me, her eyes full of agony and censure. “So if you kissed me, say, on the breasts, that would be free since it’s not mouth to mouth?”

Irritated that she was pressing this, I muttered, “No. That’s part of foreplay; it’s off-limits.”

Her gaze hardened. “And what you just did ~isn’t~ foreplay?”

No.

Maybe.

Yes.

Definitely.

“~That~ was a friend comforting another friend,” I said, clenching my teeth because I knew I was lying to both of us. And it was obvious she knew it too.

“I see.” With a disappointed nod, she continued, “So, you weren’t about to kiss me—mouth to mouth—just before you discovered my scar?”

“Jesus.” I stepped away from her and ran a harassed hand through my hair. “Yes, okay. I almost kissed you. But I didn’t. Mistake averted. No harm done. We’re good.”

Except she said, “~Are~ we?”

My mouth fell open. Why the hell was she so mad at me right now? Because I had almost kissed her? Or because I hadn’t? “What’re you saying, Reese?”

With a whimper, she closed her eyes and pressed a fist to her forehead. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We can’t ever kiss or anything else, because you sleep with women for money. End of story.”

“Why do you always have to remind me of that?” I growled. “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”

Except for one brief, stupid moment, I kind of had.

“I’m not reminding ~you~,” she snapped, opening her eyes and dropping her hands. “I’m reminding ~me~.”

Oh.

Oh, holy shit, she was just as tempted and conflicted by this as I was.

Joy sprang to life inside me. I took a step toward her before I even realized what I was doing, just so relieved that she understood, that she ~knew~ what I was going through, because she was too. Thank God I wasn’t the only one experiencing this.

But she pulled away from me. “We’re just friends, Mason.”

Dammit. Right. What the fuck was I doing?

“Right,” I repeated aloud. Knowing I needed to go—now—I took the book from her hands that she was still holding and I waved it once. “Thanks for loaning this to me…~friend~.”

Then I kissed the scar on the back of her neck one last time and left.

I don’t think I dared to even draw another breath until I slid inside my Jeep almost two blocks later. And when I finally exhaled, a stream of curses fled with it.

That had been close. Too close.

If we had actually ~done~ something, it would’ve only been one night for me—a dream come true—but still only one night out of my entire life. But for her, it would’ve been something else entirely.

I needed to stop being so selfish. I needed to think about what was best for Reese.

And that was not me.