2. Mason
2
MASON
M y heart pounds in my chest as I hear them approach. Something about this feels like the calm before the storm, but I can’t quite put my finger on why.
“M, put your blindfold on, please,” Hannah says, and I can hear the amusement in her tone. There’s honestly no telling with her, but it has a smile tipping up the corner of my lips all the same.
A photoshoot hadn’t been on my list of things to do today, but when your boss’s wife calls and says she needs an emergency fill-in, you do it. Besides, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday.
I’d worn my good jeans and a white T-shirt and my favorite black leather jacket. It was one of the few material things that mean something to me. Bodhi had given this to me when I graduated from high school. Guy had been so proud to see me walk across the stage and hell, I had been too.
A happiness settles over me as I stand there with the blindfold over my eyes, acutely aware of where they are behind me. My thumb glides back and forth over the worn leather as I wait.
A decadent mix of jasmine and honey wafts over me like some kind of magical spell. It’s addictive and almost as savory as it is sweet. It’s the kind of scent that captures all your senses, not just one, leaving you breathless and aching for more.
Her back brushes against mine, the contact so incredibly minimal that if my body wasn’t on high alert, I wouldn’t have felt it.
But I did feel it.
Felt the pulse of electricity sliding over my skin, and now, the anticipation of meeting this woman has me in a choke hold.
It feels like hours, but it’s probably only a couple of minutes before Hannah finally speaks.
“All right, you two,” she starts, her voice carrying from somewhere off to my right. “I want you to turn slowly and face each other, but do not take your blindfolds off.”
“Easy for you to say,” the mystery woman mutters, and I can’t help but snicker as I follow Hannah’s instructions.
The tension is almost maddening now, almost like I can hear her heart beating—or maybe that’s just the blood rushing in my ears. I’m not sure why I do it, but I reach for her hand, and she lets me, a zip of electricity shooting up my arm when her soft skin slides against my roughened palm.
She inhales sharply and I know she felt it too.
My thumb moves back and forth unconsciously, and just when I think she’s gonna pull away, she laces our fingers together, the move possessive and projecting dominance. My lips kick up into a grin because I have no complaints about a woman who likes to take charge.
My mind registers the sound of the camera going off, but it feels muted in the fog of jasmine and honey. It’s euphoric and I like it.
“Y’all are already at risk of catching this whole damn place on fire,” Hannah says with a dramatic flair that has me chuckling. “All right, on the count of three, you’re gonna take your blindfolds off. Ready? One,” she says and I try to pull my hand away but my mystery woman stops me, holding me tighter in her grasp.
“You started this,” she murmurs.
“I like to mix things up.”
“Two!”
“And I’m more than capable of doing this with just one hand,” I add just to see how far I can push it, and she hums with definite interest.
“Three!” Hannah yells and my heart is at risk of beating out of my chest.
Reaching behind my head, I pull the blindfold off and have to remind myself to breathe. She’s stunning—breathtakingly so.
“Wow,” I manage as my gaze rakes over hers. “I think you’re my dream girl.”
She snickers. “Maybe ten years ago.” Her eyes narrow. “How old are you exactly?”
“I’ve been sworn not to tell you until the end.” I hold up my free hand in surrender, a smile stretching across my lips at the fact that her fingers are still tangled with mine. “I’m Mason Amato.”
“Lana Richards.”
She’s older than I am, by a good amount, but that’s the way I like it. Women my age are more interested in the club scene, meeting on hookup apps, and living their lives on social media.
But I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in my twenty-three years and I know how fleeting it can be—how precious—so I won’t be wasting it on staged moments and filtered happiness.
Ironic considering what we’re doing, but no one would think the chemistry arcing between Lana and me to be staged.
“I like your jacket,” I say, taking in her worn, black leather that complements my own. She’s wearing it over a flirty white dress that hits midthigh and a pair of boots that scream they’re comfortable and loved.
And I love that.
“It’s my favorite,” she says, looking down at her own jacket and then at mine, her gaze unhurried as she takes me in before meeting my gaze.
“I can see why.” Tilting my head to the side, I can see Hannah approaching out of the corner of my eye. “Make me a promise?”
“I don’t usually make promises with strange men.”
“Make an exception, and if you hate it, I’ll never make you do it again.”
“Who said I’m seein’ you after today?”
“Wishful thinking,” I say shamelessly as I lift a shoulder and let it drop.
“What’s the promise?”
“I want you to promise to have fun with me today.” She opens her mouth to speak but I shake my head. “Just promise me.”
She purses her lips but she can’t hold back her grin. “That’s it?”
I want to call her out—ask her when the last time was she actually had fun —because I can see the tiredness in her eyes and wonder what kind of responsibilities she carries. It’s heavy, but it’s not for today.
“We’re just easing into it; no need to rush.”
“All right,” she says, standing a little taller. “I promise. But in exchange,” she adds with fire dancing in her eyes, “promise you won’t hold back.”
I lick my lips and she doesn’t miss it, her pupils dilating in response. God damn, this woman is a fantasy come to life.
“I promise,” I murmur, my voice sounding like gravel as Hannah stops at our side.
“Y’all are like a dream. ” She sighs and I squeeze Lana’s hand.
“See? Dream Girl.”
“That’s not what she said,” Lana replies with a touch of sass I already adore.
“Gah! You guys are disgustingly adorable. I can’t even stand it.” Hannah beams as I chuckle before swinging the hand Lana is holding. She looks down and then up at me and shakes her head.
“Let’s go before this one,”—she nods toward me—“starts skipping.”
“Okay, I want you to walk over there and then when you get into the field, Mason, you’re going to spin her and then dip her slowly, all right?”
“You got it.” Throwing Hannah a wink, I lead Lana toward the designated spot. “You promised to have fun. Skipping might be fun.”
“I will trade dipping and spinning for skipping,” she whispers, turning to look at me. Her mouth is so close and I want to press my lips to hers.
Soon.
Because it feels like I won’t survive if I don’t.
Each brush of her body against mine, every smile and laugh has me wound tighter than I thought possible.
It’s intoxicating.
“We’ll do a couple more by this tree,” Hannah says, but the coaching is merely a formality at this point as Lana pushes me back against the trunk and arches her body dangerously close to mine.
“Lana?” I breathe, our faces nearly touching as I cup her cheek, and she grips the neck of my shirt.
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Yeah?” The single word is a tease—almost like a dare.
“Yeah.”
“Promise you’ll make it good? It’s been a long time since anyone’s kissed me like it meant something.”
“I promise.”
Brushing my nose against hers, I dip my head, capturing her lips in a soft kiss—a test.
A taste.
One kiss that would never be enough.
Lana must feel it too because in the next breath she’s tilting her face up to mine, her tongue tracing the seam of my lips until they part, her body shifting closer in a silent plea.
Resting my hand on her lower back, I pull her flush against me as I slant my mouth over hers, tangling my tongue with hers and dragging the sweetest moan from her lips.
It’s heaven on earth.
Like the stuff they write about in books.
The feeling is otherworldly in this moment.
The bark of the tree bites into my back and pulls me back to reality—the reality where I’m a half second from dipping my hand under this flowy white dress to see how wet she is for me.
Not here.
“Dream Girl, we’re not alone,” I whisper, but it’s more of a plea even though the last thing I want is to stop.
“You promised you wouldn’t hold back,” she teases as she stares up at me from under her big dark lashes.
“Well, I’m out of here. I’ll message you both when the pictures are ready. Lana, are you good with me leaving?” Hannah asks and I grin.
“I’m good,” Lana says, her voice a little lust-drunk and so damn cute.
“Mason?”
“Very good.”
“I bet.” Hannah laughs as she takes off the way we came.
“What now?” Lana asks, but the words are already out of my mouth.
“Go out with me.”