CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jenna
As I walk out into the front yard, the roar of an engine pulls my focus to the closed garage door. Is that a motorcycle? God, please let it be a motorcycle.
Anticipation coils in my stomach as the door lifts and a thick black tire comes into view. But it’s not until I see the most beautiful Harley-Davidson that my panties all but melt away. I bite back a giddy squeal, my lips parting with desire.
Damn him for making himself a whole lot sexier. As if it wasn’t hard enough to be pissed at him already.
It takes a lot to hurt me when it comes to casual sex, and last night was no exception.
It was an utter lapse in judgment. On both our parts.
I’d love to blame Mason, only I can’t. While I may not have any romantic feelings for Jack, and I’m ninety percent sure he doesn't feel anything for me, I still shouldn’t be messing with his brother.
Because what if I’m ninety percent wrong?
I didn’t come here to hurt Jack. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder what the hell I’m doing here at all...and I can’t hate Mason for that. No matter how badly I want to.
God knows he’s given me plenty of reasons.
If I were anyone else, I’m sure I’d be bitter over his brutal rejection.
Yet, all I could do was laugh, because to a degree it all makes sense.
He doesn’t want to hurt his brother any more than I do, and the girl blowing up his phone…
Somehow, I knew, without confirmation from the panic in his eyes, that it wasn't what it looked like.
It's barely been two days, and yet, I know without a doubt that Mason’s not the booty-call type. I only acted pissed off to fuck with him a little.
It’s what I do.
And apparently, it’s what Mason does too because…of course he rides a motorcycle.
As though he hasn’t noticed my staring, he walks the bike forward and stops beside me, only acknowledging my existence after jumping off and offering me a helmet.
“Ground rules,” he snaps, as if he has any right to be mad at me after the shit he pulled last night.
Instead of arguing, I let this play out.
“No talking to me while I’m riding. No screaming in my ear. No complaining about the wind.”
He waves the helmet and I snatch it from his hand. “What if I don’t want to get on your death trap?”
“You do.”
“I do?”
“Jenna, you were practically drooling at the sight of it. I bet you’d beg me for a ride if I said you couldn’t come. Hell, if I checked, I’m certain I’d find your panties soaked from how much you want this.”
Heat pools at my center and I hate that he’s not wrong. “You’ll never know. You blew your shot last night.”
“Good. I got more than enough after one kiss and the peep show you gave me.”
“Use that image a lot, do you?”
“What?” His brows furrow until he seemingly gets my joke and a smile tugs at his lips. “Twice already, so thanks for adding to my spank bank.”
“You’re welcome.” I grin widely as a warmth runs through me, the visual assaulting my mind. God-fucking-dammit. That shouldn’t be so hot.
“Back to the bike,” I say, matching his bitterness. “If I agree to your stupid rules, can we go already?”
“Yep.” He grabs my bag from the ground beside my feet and I study his movement, only then taking in what he’s wearing. And hell… He’s trying to kill me. The asshole rejected me and now he’s walking around like sex on legs.
To undoubtedly fuck with my head, he’s wearing tight black jeans and a weathered leather jacket. I’ve never seen anything sexier. The jacket’s open, giving me a glimpse of his fitted white tee, and I almost drool for real.
Why does he have to be so damn appealing?
“Are you coming?” He raises an eyebrow, biting back another cocky grin.
“Yep. I was born ready for this.”
“Okay.” He turns away, curling his leg over the seat, securing himself in position, then pats the space behind him. “Final rule. Don’t let go.”
Before I have the chance to respond, he covers his face with the visor and grabs the handlebars, revving the engine.
Conversation over. While I still have no idea where we’re going.
The sun blazes as I secure the helmet over my head and lower the visor, instantly regretting my makeup. I’m going to be a sweaty mess by the time we stop, and while I know I’m hot, it’s harder to make him regret his actions when I have mascara running down my face.
Laughing it off, I stride toward him and follow his move, lifting my leg over the seat, sliding on behind him.
The vibrations make me giddy again, but when I lightly grip his waist, his body shakes and his powerful palms curl around my thighs as he forcefully yanks me into him.
I gasp as my crotch slams into his back, and that gasp turns to a silent moan when he grabs my hands, wrapping them more tightly around him, locking them against his chest.
If my panties weren’t wet before, they are now. Because… this man. Jesus.
Mason kicks off the stand, and the next thing I know, we’re flying. Not literally, but my God, it feels that way. I’ve been on a motorcycle, but I was a kid and it was my next-door neighbor’s paddock Honda. This is nothing like that.
It’s like sin.
I’m not sure how much time passes as we cruise around in silence, the wind in my hair, my heart racing in excitement. I could spend hours like this, if my muscles weren’t tense from clenching Mason’s rock-hard abs and my ass wasn’t vibrating so hard that it hurts.
We’re in the middle of a residential street when Mason slows to a stop and lifts his visor, squeezing my thigh as he glances over his shoulder. “Can you jump off for a minute? I’ve got to grab something from under the seat.”
My leg tingles when he releases me but I lift my visor, managing a “sure” before flipping my leg over the bike, groaning when the pain in my ass intensifies. “Is this where your job is?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets and leaning back on my heels, checking out the houses surrounding us.
Is he some kind of tradesman? A male stripper, maybe? God, I’m funny. If only he wasn’t so touchy, I could ask him.
“Nope. But we're close.” Mason takes off his helmet, drawing my attention away from those thoughts and I follow suit, removing my own.
“Are we walking?” I grimace, and laughter rumbles out of him. It’s the second time I’ve heard him laugh, and I can’t deny that I love the sound.
“You don’t like being kept in the dark, do you?” His penetrating gaze bores into mine and I swallow my lust.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not I trust someone.”
Mason visibly winces but covers it with a quirk of his brow. “You don’t trust me?”
“Definitely not. You haven’t really given me reason to.”
“I got you here safely.”
“True. I’ll give you credit for that. But I’d feel more comfortable if you told me what the job was.”
He nods, a nervous expression washing over him that’s so fleeting, it’s possible I imagined it. “Okay. I can do that. Close your eyes. You’re going to need something first.”
“What?” I laugh incredulously. “Not a chance. Didn’t we just establish I don’t trust you?”
“We did, but now I’m asking you to try. Or you could wait here until I’m done.” He shrugs and I curse under my breath.
“Fine.” I huff and do as he asked, closing my eyes. “You better not be a criminal.”
“Jenna. Jenna. Jenna. Are you stereotyping me because I own a Harley?” Mock disgust oozes from his words, and I poke out my tongue like a disobedient child.
“Hurry up,” I gripe. That’s not exactly where my mind, went but it’s certainly less incriminating on my part.
Mason falls silent, leaving the only sound coming from my heart slamming in my chest. Tension courses through me, and I’m about to question him, when a shadow dances across my eyes, blocking the sunlight and making me quiver.
A warmth touches me and I jump, goose bumps coating my skin as Mason’s velvety voice soothes me. “Hold still.”
I freeze, my pulse spiking. I shouldn’t be letting him near me, let alone standing here blindly, at his mercy.
My heart continues to pound as the seconds tick over, and I’m ready to curse him when he gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek.
My breath hitches and I swear I hear him sucking in air.
“What are you doing?” I question, trying for an accusatory tone, but the words leave my lips in a whisper.
“I told you; I’m getting ready and I’ve got something for you.” The air around me changes as he steps closer, and I can’t handle the tension anymore. My eyes flash open, finding him dressed in a bright red jacket complete with a white faux-fur trim, and I stifle a snort.
“What in the world?”
Without so much as a smile, he steps back slightly and shows me a Santa hat, lifting it to my head. “You’ll need this.”
“Again, what? I’m not wearing that.” I duck out of his way, shaking my head. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.” I’m not usually a grinch. I’ve just reached my limit of shitty Christmases and I can’t feel the magic anymore.
“Just put it on.”
“No.” I stand firm. “Not until—”
“Please.” The emotion in his voice makes me pause, and my lips part. “I know you’re on strike from Christmas this year—it’s been obvious since you arrived—but you love Christmas and I promise you’re going to love this.”
Something about the sincerity in his eyes has me nodding while my mind whirs. When did I tell him I loved Christmas?
Mason thanks me and steps forward again, a soft smile tugging at his lips while he positions the hat on my head. “Perfect,” he whispers, lifting my chin as he stares down at me and my breath catches. Mason’s face contorts and he backs away, only stopping when I frantically reach for him.
God knows why.
His eyes dart to mine and I’m rendered speechless by the tenderness staring back at me. I hesitate, blinking a few times, snapping myself out of it.
“Sorry.” I look away, my stomach churning uncomfortably. “Do I need anything else?” Mason’s searching my face when I glance back, his bright blue eyes reaching into my thoughts, and I feel naked in front of him. Stripped bare and more vulnerable than I was when I was physically naked.
Why does it feel like he knows me? He can’t know me. We just met. And yet…I’ve never felt more seen. Not necessarily because he can regurgitate specific details of my life, but because he genuinely listens. He takes notice. He acts like he cares.
Until he doesn’t.
A vision of his harsh, passionless eyes works its way into my mind, and I involuntarily flinch. Last night didn’t affect me. It was a meaningless kiss. Why the hell is my throat tightening right now?
Mason lifts his hand to my face again and I bow my head, dodging his intimate strike. “You’ve got three seconds to tell me what we’re doing or I’m calling an Uber.”
“It’s a toy run,” he rushes out, his genuine smile returning while my heart jolts.
“A what?”
“Every year the motorcycle clubs put on a toy run. Hundreds of bikers collect donated toys and drop them off at various trucks around the city. The toys are then given to disadvantaged children.”
My skin tingles as everything I thought I knew about Mason completely washes away. “Who the fuck are you?”
“What?” A raspy chuckle escapes him.
“How did… Never mind.” I shake my head in disbelief, a feeling of awe taking over me. This is one of those moments that’s freaking me the hell out. I donate to a children's charity every goddamn year. If anything was going to sway me to get into the Christmas spirit, this is it.
But how the hell does he know that?
I’m still working through my shock when a moving truck pulls up beside us and Mason’s friend Kai waves through the open window. “Are you ready, Jenna?”
What? My eyes bounce between Mason and Kai, my brows pinched. “Ahh—”
“Kai’s going to take you in the truck,” Mason fills me in. “I thought you might have more fun collecting the toys from the MCs as they ride past. Figured you’d get a kick out of watching tough bikers get emotional as they hand you a bag full of stuffed toys.”
He winks and I snort to suppress a giggle. That’s exactly the type of thing I’d get a kick out of. “It sounds perfect.”
“Good.” He grins and I hate that it’s a little disarming, sending my pulse spiking out of control.
I’m here for Jack. Mason said so himself.
I’m on a mini vacation to catch up with a friend.
Nothing more. Now is not the time for my heart to join the party.
I’ve gone twenty-seven years without it.
“Good,” he repeats, squeezing my waist before he jogs to Kai’s truck, opening my door.
I smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. Mason may be good, but I’m not certain I can say the same.