Chapter 10
Charlotte
I stand,my camera still in my hand, but other than that, I’m a completely new Charlotte. At least on the outside.
The makeup I’m wearing highlights every attribute while looking effortless, the clothes compliment my figure without being too tight or too obvious. And the way they feel…
Mason must know I have sensory sensitivities because every piece I tried on glided over my skin.
Or maybe all expensive clothing feels like that. My free hand slides from my waist down my hip just as the door opens. Mason steps into the kitchen but stops when his gaze catches mine.
“Charlotte.”
My eyes slide to the floor. “Mason,” I start, now completely overwhelmed. I’m literally covered from head to toe in gifts from him and this is an all-new feeling for me. “I don’t…”
He’s striding across the apartment and stands in front of me. Brushing his fingers through my hair, he leans in close. “You always look beautiful, but today…”
I feel my cheeks heating. “Thank you. For everything.” I don’t just mean the hair and the clothes. He spent that money to wrap me in a veil of protection.
He closes the distance between us, but this kiss doesn’t devour. It’s not full of animal passion. This one is light and gentle the way you kiss something you find precious.
My heart turns over in the strangest way to think of Mason Kincaid finding me precious.
I should not follow this feeling, it’s going to get me in trouble. Other than wanting to take my virginity, the why of why Mason is doing any of this is a mystery to me. If I were a different woman, I’d ask.
Would it be better if I were more assertive? I’ve never been very good at that sort of thing.
I’d texted Gus to tell him that I wasn’t coming in and when he’d responded that he couldn’t cover the evening without me, I’d nearly caved. Only the idea of what Mason would do if I put on that uniform after he’d gone through a great expense to transform me, had me holding the line and telling Gus I wasn’t sure when I’d be back.
Mason kisses me again, quieting my thoughts with the gentle touch and my eyes flutter closed as I sigh into his mouth.
If most women would twist themselves into pretzels, what would I do to really belong to this man? I’m not sure I want to answer that question either. Because I might do a whole lot more than twist, I might be willing to break.
His hand is on my back, sliding over my ass, pulling my hips into the cradle of his. My body thrums with need. He’s right. If he keeps kissing me like this, very soon I’m going to beg.
He pulls back his face, the rest of his body still pressed to mine. “Ready?”
I shake my head. “You don’t need to buy me anything else today, Mason. It’s already too much.”
He gives me that one-sided grin that melts my insides. “First, I’ve hardly spent anything. But second, if we’re really going to sell you as the woman of my life, then you should be dripping in clothes and jewels.”
I shake my head. So much trouble and expense.
But I let him lead me to the elevator, our hands entwined as we step in. There is something so personal about holding hands like this, I lift my camera, still in my other hand, and snap a haphazard picture. It’s at an angle, our arms exiting the frame in the corners of the shot.
He looks over at me, his gaze holding a warning. I wince. “Should I not have done that?”
I flash the screen at him so that he can see what I’ve snapped.
“That’s the second picture you’ve taken of my hand.”
“You’ve got great hands,” I murmur. He does. Strong, lean, masculine. I can’t wait to see them sliding over my skin.
He’s quiet for a moment, but I feel the energy. Nipping at my lip, I glance down. “I would never share anything that I thought compromised you or hurt you.”
“It has never occurred to me that you might be a threat to my security.”
My eyes go wide. Mason is a powerful man and likely a criminal. Of course, pictures might be a problem.
“You don’t have social media,” he says, “You’ve never spoken to anyone, not even your friends, about that night at the club.”
How does he know that? It’s a reminder that Mason Kincaid is a man to be feared as well as respected and desired.
“But I’m not sure I can allow you to snap pictures of me, Charlotte.”
I nip at my lip. I’m not sure I can not snap pictures of him. He’s magnificent. “What if I show you each picture when I take it? It doesn’t even have to be your face. I just…” I want to know you.
He considers as the elevator doors open, and we climb into the car. Sliding into the limo, he sits next to me, his hand resting on my bare thigh.
Once again, I’m struck by the beauty. His skin is so much darker and rougher than mine. We’re a study in contrast.
His phone chimes and he flicks down his gaze to read the text. I point at his hand and then wiggle my camera.
He looks back at me long enough to give a quick jerk of his chin in assent before he continues reading.
I snap his hand from a few angles, finally taking a picture that I think is just right.
It’s a short trip to the jewelry store, the traffic less thick this time of evening. In another hour, the strip will be packed.
We pull into the back of the store through an alley and enter a door I’m certain most customers don’t use. It leads into a private room that doesn’t have cases of jewels.
Instead, pieces have been set out on a long counter.
I gasp, despite myself as a large sapphire cocktail ring winks back at me.
Mason chuckles, flicking a hand in the direction of the ring. “We’ll take that one.”
I hadn’t even noticed the salesperson until the man steps forward with a nod.
“Might I suggest, this as well,” he points to an aquamarine set of earrings and necklace.
“Not my preferred stone,” Mason murmurs.
“But it suits the lady’s eyes,” the salesperson says with a flash of a grin meant to charm.
Mason nods as we move down the table. I mostly allow him to pick out the pieces. I know they’ll be perfect.
The cocktail ring is slipped onto my right finger and the way it flashes and winks under the jewelry store lights is magical. It keeps drawing my eye.
“Any diamonds, sir?” The clerk asks.
Mason nods in the affirmative and my chin snaps up. I’ve already gotten a ring, two necklaces and two pair of earrings.
Diamond studs are brought out, “For everyday wear,” the man says with a smile. They must be a carat and a half each. I don’t know a ton about jewelry, but I know fat diamonds are expensive. “These fulfil all four C’s where diamonds are concerned?”
I look at Mason, having no idea what the man means by four C’s.
“Cut, Carat, Color, and Clarity,” he answers my question that I didn’t even ask. Mason is clearly very comfortable in this world.
We keep moving down the display, Mason’s hand at my waist as he dismisses various items, chooses others.
At the end of the line is another ring.
I stop when I see it because I’ve never even imagined something so beautiful. It’s a pink diamond in a platinum setting that must be over three carats in size.
“Try it on,” the clerk has noted my reaction, and his eyes are sparkling nearly as much as the ring. Which tells me this piece is beyond expensive.
I shake my head. “No, that’s all right. I…”
Mason’s hand, which has been at my back slides to my hip, his fingers splaying out in a move so possessive, it has my nipples tightening. Does he have any idea how much his touch affects me? “I want to see it on your finger.”
That starts my heart hammering in my chest, with something that isn’t lust, it’s so much deeper. Why this ring is different, I don’t know. It’s just so…me. Simple in design, perfect in its proportions, set in cool tones that compliment my skin, I just know I’m going to love it.
The clerk lifts my hand and slides the piece on my finger. The ring is already made to size.
I stare down at my hand, my fingers splaying out as a gasp falls from my lips.
Mason pulls me against his side, my hip pressing into his erection. I had no idea trying on engagement rings might turn a man on, but he is.
I look at him, my eyes surely swimming with questions, but his gaze doesn’t answer them. If anything, his eyes are darker and more dangerous than I’ve ever seen.
I look away, slipping the ring back off my finger and then I reach out to hand it back to the clerk. I’m allowing myself to get caught up in the moment. This is not real. None of this is real.
But Mason’s hand covers mine, stopping me from returning the ring.
My eyes go to his again. He still has a glint to his I don’t understand, the predator I’ve always known lives in Mason right at the surface.
He takes the ring from my fingers and reaches for my hand, slipping the stone back on.
Only then does he look at the clerk. “We’ll take it.”
I look back down at my hand, the pink diamond sparkling back up at me. Is this part of how a predator protects or is he just garnishing his meal before he devours it?
Either way, there is no going back.
Somehow, this ring is the last step in allowing Mason to completely claim me and I am now his to do with as he wishes.
Maybe I have been for a long time. I’ve lived by Mason’s grace for the last two years. But I’m less certain than ever how this will end.