Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men #1)(91)

“Stop,” he demanded sharply and yanked me into a hard hug. “I’m not going to cheat on you, Reese. I will never do that. I tried the other way. For two years. I didn’t like it. I’m not going back. I just want you.” A tremor rattled through him and echoed into me. “Don’t break up with me already. It’s only been one day. That’s not enough, not nearly enough. Please don’t give up on us yet.”

“I won’t.” Bursting into tears, I sobbed, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep saying this stuff.” Holy crap, why was I getting so emotional? It wasn’t even close to my emotional time of the month. But I crawled into his lap and burrowed close. “I just want you too, Mason. I don’t want to break up with you. I don’t want to lose you at all.”

“Shh.” He gathered me close and kissed my hair, rocking me gently back and forth. “You’re not going to lose me. It’s okay.”

He swayed with me, letting me cry out my tears. When I finished, he wiped the wetness off my cheeks and kissed my nose, ticking the diamond stud with his lips.

“I know it has to be damn near impossible for any woman to deal with a boyfriend who has a history like mine,” he admitted, “especially being that it’s a very recent history for me. And it isn’t fair to ask you to. But I need you to. If anyone can get over what I was, you can. You are so strong. You are so amazing. You are…everything.”

See, was it any wonder I was so obsessed with this guy?

I lifted my face from his neck and met his worried gaze. “I’ll get over it,” I assured him with utmost confidence.

I didn’t care how hard it would be; I just knew I would get over his baggage. Because the alternative—losing him forever—would be unbearable.

He nodded and kissed me, but I didn’t taste passion. This kiss was desperate and seeking; he needed reassurance that I wasn’t going to leave him. Kissing him back, I put my heart into it, and it seemed to pacify him.

We held each other on the couch, just like that, for the longest time. But for the rest of the day, I sensed a distance between us. I knew it was tension on my part—worry about the evening to come—and I suspected for him, he was worried he could lose me at the drop of a hat.

In an attempt to ease some awkwardness, I suggested we finish our Harry Potter movie marathon. We made it through three more videos before evening approached. That’s when I stretched, faked a yawn, and kicked him out—politely, of course—telling him he really needed to go home at some point before Dawn labeled me Son Corrupter of the Year.

Seriously, though, I needed him gone so I could prepare for phase two of Operation Save Mason.

He looked like a kicked puppy as I walked him to the door, but he didn’t beg his case to stay. Such a guy, he didn’t want to appear whipped or anything, I guess. I put a little extra oomph into my goodbye kiss, trying to convince him how much I loved him.

But all the angst behind the glance he sent me before he jogged down the stairs and strode to his Jeep had me fisting a hand to my chest and wanting to call him back to confess everything. I watched from the opened door of my loft as he backed from the drive and disappeared down the street.

Then I blew out a breath, pulled on my big-girl panties, and got to work.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT




I dressed in all black. Remembering I’d left my car parked all weekend down the street from Mason’s house, I walked to my destination and arrived without a minute to spare.

I figured the gate separating Mason’s back yard from Mrs. Garrison’s would be unlocked to allow him entrance for their ten o’clock rendezvous. And I was right. My heart pounded as I stole across her neatly trimmed lawn to her back door, which had also been left unlocked for him.

Scared half out of my mind, and yet excited that the time was here—I was really freaking doing this—I eased the back door shut behind me, hoping she hadn’t heard me enter.

Music played from somewhere on the second story. I paused, listening to the muffled jazzy tune I could barely hear over my own harsh breathing. I couldn’t believe I was seriously inside the devil’s den. The air was warm and sticky and made me feel slightly suffocated in my dark-from-head-to-toe clothes.

Mind kicking into gear, I glanced around, not sure where to start my search.

Come on, Reese, think. If you were the computer of a slutty middle-age cougar who liked to blackmail her neighbor boy into having sex with her, where would you hide out all day?

My first guess would be the bedroom—obviously—but she was probably there right now, dolling herself up. For Mason.

I gagged at the thought.

He was so never going anywhere near that again.

Motivated by the thought, I stepped forward and glanced cautiously through the doorway of the back laundry room and into a dimly lit, state-of-the-art kitchen. I almost passed out when I saw a closed laptop sitting on her bar.

No freaking way. I couldn’t possibly be that lucky.

Oh, well. I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I darted into the kitchen and seated my rump onto a barstool in front of her Dell. After cracking my knuckles and rolling my shoulders as if to pop my neck, I held my breath and reached for the lid.

No alarms sounded. No metal bars crashed down around me. No hidden trap in the floor opened up and dropped me into her dungeon below.