Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I hold them between us, and he spreads his legs so I can step closer, but I shake my head. “Up.”
He stands. “Smell like me?”
“Yeah, you know…like summer and citrus or a warm blanket right out of the dryer.” I purse my lips. “Maybe turn around so you can still keep your arm steady?”
He doesn’t move, and when I look up, he’s just staring down at me.
“Mase.”
He licks his lips, then nods and spins, and I start with the lowest wrap, gently sliding my finger between the cloth and his skin. Mason shivers, and I smirk.
“Cold?”
He huffs shaking his head, mumbling something along the lines of, “Something like that.”
I cut the bottom wrap off, and it falls to the floor at his feet. I suck in a sharp breath through my nose, my eye snapping up to the back of Mason’s head. He must hear it, because he turns slightly, but not far enough he can see my face.
There’re dark, purplish-yellow bruises all along his spine, and when I cut off the second set of wraps, they only get worse. They’re everywhere, in every shape and size all over his sides and wrapping up and around his shoulder.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
My fingers feather across the markings, trailing along the largest one at his side. Mason spins, and my hand is suddenly pressed to his abdomen. His muscles flex, and I swallow, looking up into his eyes.
“I’m fine,” he rasps, his fist wrapping around my wrist. I think he intends to remove my hand, and for some reason, my fingers splay out against his heated skin. His palm slides up until his fingers are lacing with mine.
My limbs start to shake, my breathing picking up, and it’s as if his caramel-colored eyes are whispering words not meant to be heard but felt.
I feel them.
But what am I feeling?
It’s new and…different. It’s painfully soft and strangely compelling.
“You don’t look fine.”
“What did I say?” he murmurs, tucking some loose strands behind my ear. “You don’t cry. Not for me.”
“I’m not crying.”
A sense of warmth gentles his features, and he releases me but only to grip my shoulder so he can spin me until I’m looking in the mirror.
My eyes find my own, the image blurry, because yes, there is definitely moisture in there, but my attention quickly flicks to the man at my back.
He’s so much taller than me, the top of my head just above his collarbone. Despite my swollen frame, his cages me in, his shoulders wider and visible behind mine, and when he steps closer, his stomach now pressed to my back, my heart jolts in my chest.
His hand comes around, gently gliding along my stomach as he turns his lips to my ear. They open, and my eyes close, the heat of his breath sending goose bumps down my spine.
My legs are tingling, it’s so strange.
I don’t hate it.
“No tears for me, Pretty Little…but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that you care so much. In fact, knowing that you do does something to me.”
What does it do to you?
“I’m going to get into the shower now, gorgeous girl, just in case you want to keep your eyes closed.”
I swallow, but my eyes, they open without permission, latching on to his.
I can’t help but notice his pupils have grown wider, the golden brown now hidden behind a layer of darkness.
Mason takes a step back, staring right at me as he uses one hand to push his sweats to the floor.
They puddle behind my ankles, and my toes curl into the fuzzy mat beneath my feet.
My cheeks are on fire, my eyes holding and following his in the mirror’s reflection until he’s turning away, stepping into the shower, and closing himself inside it.
The moment he’s out of sight, the spell is broken, and I run back into the room, stopping to press my back against the wall.
I pull out the yoga breathing techniques, fighting for long, deep breaths and exhaling just as slowly. It doesn’t help.
I lift my shaky hands, staring at them in shock and confusion, then press them to my heated skin, explicitly aware my face isn’t the only part of me that’s on freaking fire, but a part that’s been dormant for a while now…if ever woken at all. A part of me I’m kind of scared to acknowledge but can’t ignore.
There’s a heat bubbling between my legs, threatening to grow into a boil, and my skin is tingly all over. My eyes fly wide.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, gently banging my head against the wall. “This isn’t happening,” I mutter, clenching my eyes closed. “I’m not falling for Mason.” I swallow, taking several long lungfuls. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
I yelp, spinning on my heels to find Mason standing in the doorway in nothing but a towel, water dripping from every inch of him.