Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men, #1)(37)

I think an inch separated our mouths. I could sneeze and accidentally crush my lips against his. Damn it, why wasn’t my new nose ring making me sneeze?

But no way was I going to purposely be the one to cross the line that seemed to be drawn in that inch of space. Crossing it would change everything. He tilted his head, keeping our brows attached, and shifted to the side, but he kept that inch secure between us.

I knew he wanted to breech it as badly as I did. But the invisible barrier must’ve been stronger than both of our cravings. We feared what the change would bring.

His palm flattened on my neck, and when his touch slid over my scar, he frowned and paused. His eyes questioned me before he turned me around and gathered my hair out of the way to examine the nasty gash.

Feeling bare as a light breeze washed across my nape, I closed my eyes and tightened my fingers around the book I was holding. “So you see, that’s why I don’t pull my hair up anymore.”

His fingers were gentle as he touched the numb, deadened area. “This looks deep. What happened?”

I licked my lips. “I was cut.”

“I see that. What cut you?”

“A knife.”

Jeez. I’d already told him too much. If he asked anything else, I wasn’t sure what I’d say. My original lie was to tell people I’d gotten it in a small car crash. What was I supposed to come up with now?

An urge bubbled inside me. I actually wanted to tell Mason the whole story. Everything. But the fewer who knew the truth, the better. And no matter how much he affected me, rationally I knew I hadn’t known him nearly long enough to trust him with a secret of this magnitude.

“A knife,” he repeated. “Did it cut you on purpose?”

“Maybe.” Definitely. And if I hadn’t whirled away to run from Jeremy any faster than I had, this scar wouldn’t have been on the back of my neck either. It would have been in the front, and I probably wouldn’t be standing here today.

I shuddered, trying not to remember that night, trying not to relive the fear.

As if sensing the panic that was clawing its way up my throat, Mason leaned forward and pressed his lips to the scar.

I whimpered and closed my eyes, biting my lip to stop my chin from quivering. If I started crying now, that would be it. I’d forfeit everything.

“If you don’t give away freebies,” I said, bracing myself to say what I needed to say to stop this from progressing further, “then are you going to charge me for that?”

“No.” He kissed the spot again, his lips lingering over the area. I listened to him breathe in as he smelled my hair. It sent a shockwave of awareness down my spine and cramped the muscles low in my belly. I wanted this to last. I wanted him to spin me around and give me a real kiss.

“It wasn’t mouth to mouth, so…no charge.”

I turned to face him, hating myself even before I continued. “So if you kissed me, say, on the breasts, that would be free since it’s not mouth to mouth?”

His gaze turned hard. “No. That’s part of foreplay; it’s off limits.”

“And what you just did isn’t foreplay?” I knew I was being cruel, but I also knew the fastest way to get him to retreat was to remind him of his profession. And he needed to retreat, because I was pretty sure I couldn’t.

“That was a friend comforting another friend.” His eyes sparked with anger as he clenched his teeth.

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

“Jesus,” he railed, swiping his hands through his hair and taking a big step back. “Yes, okay. I almost kissed you. But I didn’t. Mistake averted. No harm done. We’re good.”

“Are we?” I charged.

He stared at me, his mouth slightly fallen open. His expression looked wounded. “What’re you saying, Reese?”

I closed my eyes and groaned. “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.”

He rumbled out a sound of utter frustration. “Why do you always have to remind me of that? Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I’m not reminding you,” I snapped, flashing my eyes open to glare. “I’m reminding me.”

God, I was such an idiot. I cannot believe I just stood there and pretty much confessed I cared about him as more than a friend, and the only thing holding me back was his…job.

Understanding dawned in his eyes. They sparked with interest and joy. He took a step toward me.

I darted a leery leap back. “We’re just friends, Mason.”

He stopped in his tracks, turmoil swirling in his gaze. Then he closed his eyes. “Right.” When he opened them, the desire was gone. He reached out, tugged the book I’d forgotten I was still holding out of my arms, and waved it once. “Thanks for loaning this to me…friend.”

Brushing my hair to one side, he tipped his head so he could lean around and kiss my scar one last time with a brief but warm peck. Once he straightened, he said nothing and barely held my gaze before he turned away and walked from my apartment.

I waited until I heard the door close before I strayed back into my living room to lock and bolt it behind him. Then I collapsed onto my couch and buried my face into my hands.