Chapter 9
NINE
Nina
Iwince as he hastily pulls out of me, worry etching his beautiful face. My hands reach for him in a desperate attempt to keep him close, but he’s already sat back on his knees trying to put distance between us.
I use the opportunity to take him in, lazily moving my eyes down his body.
I lie on my back, legs spread wide as I shamelessly check him out, from his strong shoulders to his broad chest. Then lower, I take in the lines of his abs, each one taut and defined under his golden skin.
Short, soft, brown hair lies between the perfect v set against his hips, a perfectly groomed trail that brings my eyes to my newfound favourite thing.
It hangs heavy against his muscular thigh, still slick with our arousal.
I dart my tongue out to wet my lips as I look up, finding his deep black pools.
Literal pools—he looks like he is about to cry.
“Mason, I was joking. I’m on the pill.” I laugh, gingerly closing my legs.
“Jesus! That’s not funny,” he huffs, dropping to the mattress beside me. “You’re on the pill?” he asks, repeating my words back to me.
“Uh-huh.” I climb over him, straddling his waist daringly as I glare down at him. “Do I need to get checked?”
His frown is instant. “Do I?” he asks defensively, flattening his hands on my thighs.
I plant my hands on either side of his head, leaning over him. My hair creates a veil around us. “No. It’s been a while.”
He perks up, pinching a nipple between his fingers. “How long’s a while?”
I shrug, bringing my lips to his. “A couple months.”
“A couple months?” he repeats.
I shrug again, darting my tongue out to lick along the seam of his lips. “Maybe a year.”
“A year!” he pulls away, shocked.
“I win, right?” I fake a smile.
He swallows thickly, pushing my hair back from my face. “Yeah, you win.” He frowns, still staring intently into my eyes. “I’m clean. I get checked regularly, and I always wear a condom.”
“Always?” I pop a brow.
“No, Nina, always,” he stresses.
I roll my lips as I contemplate asking the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Out with it,” he probes, squeezing my thighs.
“You get checked regularly...because you have sex…”
“Regularly?” he finishes for me, and I have to force a fractured smile to my lips.
Of course, he has lots of sex—the man screams sex. It oozes from every inch of him, from the way he dresses to that carnal smile.
Mason rolls us, placing me on my side to face him. My legs wrap around him as his body falls flush with mine. His heavy eyes search my face as if trying to figure something out.
He looks shattered.
“What time is it?” I ask.
His hand disappears under my shirt, lazily skimming my side. “Nearly morning.”
“You sort everything with your… Scar?”
His eyes bore into mine. Sharp. Protective. “Yes.”
I nod my head, chewing the inside of my cheek.
He doesn’t want to tell me. I get it. He hardly knows me. But what he refuses to say with his words screams at me in the depths of his eyes. Pain. It lurks in the shallows of his stare, craving the unknown.
We may not know much about each other, but I’m quickly learning.
Elliot knows him well—Charlie too. And they wanted me to be here for him tonight.
I may not know why, but I genuinely believe that I should be here.
That maybe this man needs somebody. Maybe for the first time in my life, I want to be more than Nina Anderson, the dancer, best friend to Lucy and Megan, and daughter of an alcoholic mother.
Maybe I could let just one more in.
“You need to sleep,” I tell him, smoothing out the deep lines in his forehead with my thumb. He lifts his head, nuzzling my palm before gently kissing it.
His head lies heavily in my hand, our bodies intertwined as he smiles warmly at me, swiftly drifting into the darkness.
I envy his ability to sleep so soundly as I lie awake watching him, waiting for sleep to carry me away from my own demons.
The bed is empty when I wake only a few hours later, and I allow myself to lie in the quiet confinement of the bedroom before I go in search of him.
I feel surprisingly good considering the amount of alcohol I drank last night.
My head feels clear, and what I feared might happen after spending the night with Mason hasn’t happened.
I don’t feel dirty, or shameful, or like I want to run for the hills.
Mason is consuming. He enters the room, and I can barely focus on anything else, which should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Because once he leaves and I’m all alone again, I don’t feel any less of a person. I feel valued. Seen.
Lifting my arms above my head, I stretch out my deliciously sore limbs, my body humming with arousal as I’m reminded of him sliding in behind me in the early hours of the morning.
Where are you, Mase?
Pulling back the covers, I creep to the door then poke my head out into the hallway.
Silence. Satisfied I won’t get caught, I take off down the stairs in only Mason’s shirt, heading for the kitchen for a glass of water.
My mouth waters the closer I get, the smell of bacon assaulting me. I feel famished.
“Good morning,” Lance sings, bright-eyed as he stands at the hob tending to what I presume is the bacon.
“Umm, morning,” I say on autopilot, immediately wishing I’d stayed up in the room.
His eyes drop down my body, and I pull at the hem of my shirt, wishing it were longer. “Breakfast?” he asks.
“Where’s Mason?”
He smiles wide. All teeth. Fake. “Probably out, making a million.” He winks.
“It’s a Saturday?”
“Yep.” He continues to turn the bacon. “Did you make sure to shag his brains out?” He eyes me, sarcasm dripping from his every word.
“Excuse me?” I ask at the same time that keys clatter in the foyer.
I stand waiting for Lance to explain, but he doesn’t. His eyes skirt over my shoulder just before warm hands encase my waist.
I close my eyes as his minty breath tickles at the skin just below my ear.
“Clothes. Now, Nina.” Mason says, voice scratchy and rough as he squeezes my hips.
I turn my head into him, his lips finding my temple. He stands topless at my back, his long torso ripped with muscle and wet with sweat. I drop my eyes lower, finding his shorts sitting low on his hips. Boy oh boy. “Come with me?” I ask.
He licks his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth. “Later, I have a houseful to kick out first.”
He steps away from me, and I quickly exit the kitchen when he moves to open the fridge.
I take the stairs two at a time, heading straight for the safety of the girls’ room. I push inside, finding them awake and sitting up in the large bed. Stepping up onto the ottoman, I make my way up the middle, sinking down between my two pillars of strength.
“You seem troubled, girl,” Lucy says. “Hungover?”
I shake my head, my mind in overdrive. “What do you guys make of Lance?” I ask, still stuck on his comment from before.
“He’s hot!” Megan chuckles. “That beard he has going on.”
I smile as she drives the heaviness away. “I think he heard us last night, talking about Mase. He just mentioned it in the kitchen.”
“Heard what?” Lucy frowns.
“About shagging his brains out. You mentioned a proposal too.” I smirk over at her. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“Why, because he thinks you want to marry Mason Lowell? I mean, is he blind? I don’t think there is a girl on earth who wouldn’t want to marry him.”
“True,” I laugh. “Maybe I’m reading too much into it.”
“Probably,” Lucy mutters, dropping her head to rest against mine.
“I need food,” Megan groans, and just as she says it, the door flies open, and Elliot saunters in.
“Good morning, beautiful girls.” He stands in only a pair of white boxer briefs, holding a tray of food.
The man’s godly, and he knows it.
“Thank you, Jesus.” Lucy smiles up at the ceiling.
“Come here, big boy. Mumma wants some of what you got,” Megan says, grabbing the tray when he gets close enough and pulling it to her lap.
Elliot steals a piece of toast before Megan can inhale it all, then leans across our legs to pass it to Luce. I snatch some for myself.
We sit in silence, devouring the buttery pieces of heaven.
“You can go again now.” Megan grins up at Elliot.
“You just want to look at my arse,” he laughs, stealing the last piece before turning for the door. I shake my head after the cocky bastard.
Megan’s elbow shoots out and into my ribs and I look to her with a frown.
She nods over at Lucy who sits, licking her lips as she watches Elliot’s retreating back.
“Good toast, huh, Luce?”
She snaps her eyes away, blinking rapidly as her cheeks turn crimson. “Piss off.” She smiles. “That man is far too easy on the eye—we all know that. He should be in a museum. Mute. He’s the epitome of look but don’t touch.”
“Amen to that sister,” Megan agrees.
Everything falls quiet, and I close my eyes, enjoying the peacefulness.
“Nina, you’re not holding out on us, are you?” Megan pipes up, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
I burrow into the bed, hiding beneath the covers, but they’re ripped from my grip, expectant faces glaring down at me. “Later girls, we’ve already established how big Lance’s ears are,” I say with a chuckle.
“Yes, good point.” Megan nods. “Another good point…” Here we go. “Mason is seriously packing. I had that all up in my face last night, so I’m pretty certain, but can you confirm or deny?”
I laugh as I think back to the club, the girls listening outside the door. I look between them, my smile wide. “Confirmative girls. It’s an earth-shattering, toe-curling, confirmative.”
We all sigh.
We shower and dress, then go in search of the boys. We find them in the lounge, scattered around the sectional sofas. Lance and Charlie are dressed, but Elliot is still gloriously naked in only a pair of boxers - not a care in the world.