8. Lana
8
LANA
T he sound of my alarm is like nails on a chalkboard, and I hit the snooze button— because who doesn’t want five more minutes —when my phone vibrates, mocking my need to hide away for just a little longer.
When it goes off a second time, I growl and kick the blankets back, snatching the stupid thing from the nightstand as I stomp across my room.
MASON: Good morning, Dream Girl
MASON: I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your bed
I squint at the screen, the harsh bathroom light doing me zero favors as I brush my teeth. Good morning, Dream Girl . Ugh. He even sounds peppy through text.
It’s too early to admit that he’s adorably sexy, and it’s obvious we’re going to have to have some ground rules about morning communication if whatever we’re doing is going to survive.
Still, it warms my jaded, tired heart, and I purposely ignore the second message because if I start thinking of him and this weekend, I’ll be late for work. That and I really don’t have time to get myself off before I need to wake the feral beasts my children become in the morning.
So instead of answering, I turn the shower on and wait only a minute before climbing under the spray. The water is hot, the pressure is perfect, and it would be so easy to indulge in a little me time.
The thought makes me smile because this is exactly the kind of thing that would happen to me—launching from bastard ex-husband to all around amazing guy who wants to talk to me before coffee.
Apparently, there is no middle ground.
Still, when is the last time anyone besides Amara or my kids went out of their way to say good morning to me?
After breezing through the necessities, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around myself before giving in and returning his text.
LANA: It’s awfully early for that level of excitement
MASON: You didn’t complain about it the other morning
LANA: That’s because you used your tongue to do all the talking
MASON: I’m fully prepared to wake you up like that every chance you give me
LANA: The shower is far less satisfying…
I grin, biting my lip and feeling far younger than I am in this moment. I like that Mason has me feeling playful—silly—and wildly desirable. It’s a heady mixture.
MASON: Warn a man
MASON: I just choked on my coffee and Bodhi is giving me the side-eye
LANA: I distinctly remember choking on something far better this weekend
MASON: Fuck
MASON: I’m hard
MASON: And completely blanking on my go-to list of boner killers
LANA: You have a list?
MASON: Every guy has a list
MASON: Baseball, chafing while running, mowing the lawn, burpees…
I laugh out loud as I pad my way back into my bedroom and pull out a gray pencil skirt with my favorite cream silk blouse and put them on. Debating only a second, I take a selfie and hit send. Arguably, it’s not sexy—not to me at least—but I feel like teasing the man on the other side of this conversation a little.
LANA: (mirror selfie)
MASON: Dammit baby you are not helping
MASON: But don’t stop
MASON: You look sexy as hell
LANA: You don’t have to flatter me to get into my panties, Mr. Amato
Three bubbles appear and then disappear before my phone starts ringing. I’m surprised when Mason’s name flashes across the screen, even though we’d just been texting and there’s no one else brave enough to engage with me this early.
Heart pounding in my chest, I accept the call but don’t even get a chance to say hello before his voice comes over the line. It’s deeper than I remember and filled with this deliciously gravelly undertone that has me squeezing my thighs together.
“Dream Girl, you should always expect me to flatter you. If I’m not, then you better kick my ass to the curb.”
“I happen to like your ass,” I say boldly because seriously who am I? Also, it’s not a lie. I’d sunk my nails into his tight ass as he fucked me until I screamed incoherently.
He growls, and I hear a car door slam followed by the muffled sound of his boots on the ground.
“I thought that would be a safe conversation to have in an enclosed space.”
“It wasn’t?” I tease.
“You knew exactly what you were doin’ to me.”
“I like that I can get you all riled up.” He snorts and my grin grows wider.
“ Riled up isn’t the half of it.”
“No?” I ask, feigning innocence as I heat up the curling iron and pull my makeup from the vanity.
“Tell me when I can see you again, and I’ll make sure I can go all night for you.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Me?” He laughs, and my stomach feels like a swarm of butterflies have taken flight. “Dream Girl, I’m gonna have to prep like I’m getting ready for a marathon just to keep up with you.” I open my mouth and then close it again, my face heating as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. “It’s a good thing, Lana,” he adds quietly.
“It’s just been a while,” I admit, matching his tone. We’d talked about this already, but I just need to say it again. “It was nice to feel alive again. Wanted.” My fingers trace the design in the granite countertop, the admission almost too much.
“Well then, let me make it perfectly clear, Lana,”—my name on his lips has a shiver racing down my spine—“I want you more than my next breath. I want to lose myself in you and devour every sexy moan and whimper as you beg me to give you more.”
“That’s pretty clear.”
“Are you sure? Because the moment I felt you near me, I knew I’d never get enough. You’ve got me obsessed with you,”—he pauses—“you know, in the sexy way, not the oh shit I better call the cops way.”
I snort out a laugh as some of the heaviness starts to fade, but in its place is the realization that I’m a little bit obsessed with him too.
Huh.
“You’re going to make me late.”
“It was totally selfish, but I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Did you get your erection under control?”
Mason barks out a laugh, and I can picture his smile as he shakes his head—that mix of aw shucks and I’m gonna make your panties wet that really works for him.
“Not even a little, Dream Girl. I’m gonna have to do something manly like flip a tire or rappel down a building before that happens.”
“I appreciate the flattery.”
“That’s not flattery; that’s literally me being so fucking turned on just from having your attention.”
“I like it.”
“Me too, Dream Girl. Now go have a great day. Would it be all right if I text you later?”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.”