Chapter Seven
Mason
"Do you want to come inside?" Olive asks, lingering on her front porch with this look in her eyes that says she desperately wants me to say yes.
And goddamn, I want to scoop her up, storm inside, and not leave her perfect body until she feels me everywhere. But I can't.
"Not tonight, Rebel," I murmur regretfully, brushing a kiss across the corner of her mouth.
"Oh."
I hate how disappointed she sounds.
"I'd do shady shit to go inside with you right now," I whisper. "But I'm trying to go slow. I don't want to be something you regret tomorrow, beautiful." Not when I'm damn sure I wouldn't regret it.
If I hadn't already been falling for her, tonight would have sealed the deal. She's extraordinary. I need her to trust me. I need her to know that she can count on me to put her first. And I fucking desperately need her to fall for me, too.
When I asked her out, she was afraid I'd ghost her. I don't know the details, but I know she's slow to trust because of whatever that prick did. I'm not going to rush this, not when it matters this much. She needs to see that I can be patient and go at her pace.
"Maybe I don't need slow," she whispers, peeking up at me.
"You do." I touch her cheek. "I know what you read, baby. You need romance and trust and a reason to believe that I won't break your heart."
Her face falls. "Mason, it's not you. It's…"
"You don't owe me an explanation, Rebel."
"I do," she whispers, sucking in a breath.
"I tried to date before. Um, it never worked out.
The first guy ghosted me after we talked for weeks.
I was stood up a few times. One guy tried to do cocaine off my coffee table.
Another got into a bar fight. Another was arrested on the way home from our date.
After all of that, I guess I started questioning my own judgment, whether I could trust myself when it came to dating. "
"Jesus Christ." I stare at her in shock. "He was arrested?"
"He was wanted, out of your home state, coincidentally."
"For what?"
"Home invasion, carjacking, and a few other things."
"Jesus, Olive." This is what it feels like to age ten years in two seconds. I damn well know it is. "Does he know where you live?"
"Yes?"
"Jesus." I shove a hand through my hair, trying not to lose my mind.
"It's fine, Mason. He's in prison in Oregon."
"Nothing about that is fine, Olive," I growl.
She cringes. "Okay, maybe you're right. It sounds bad, but it's not like he can break in from prison. He'd have to break out of there first, and I've heard that's hard to do. I think I'm good."
Do not lose your shit. Do not lose your shit. Do not lose your shi—
"Honestly, if anyone were to show up, it'd probably be Joey, the jerk who tried to do cocaine in my living room."
"You're moving in with me. Right now. Tonight," I growl.
"Mason," she says, her expression softening into a smile. "I'm fine here. It's been like two years, and no one has tried to bother me. I doubt they even remember me."
There's too much to process all at once here.
First, she absolutely is not fine here. A drug addict and a criminal know where she lives.
Nothing about that is fine. Second, she hasn't dated in two years?
What the actual fuck is wrong with men? It took one meeting and five minutes of conversation with her before I was hooked.
If the rest of mankind is too stupid to realize what a goddamn treasure she is, they have the kind of issues that can't be fixed.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" I ask, trying to focus on the most immediate issue.
"Um, giving Oscar a bath?"
I narrow my eyes at her.
She giggles softly. "This isn't another excuse like washing my hair, Mason. I'm really giving him a bath tomorrow. He smells like corn chips and butthole."
"Well, that's descriptive."
"It's true."
"Fine. I'll be here in the morning to change your locks and install cameras while you bathe him."
"Mason."
"Olive."
She huffs at me.
"I'm serious, baby. I'm installing security cameras and changing your locks." I tip her chin back, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Non-negotiable."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of hot when you're being all bossy?" she asks, smiling at me.
I groan, crushing my mouth to hers to silence her before she manages to get herself fucked on her front porch. I'm half tempted to do it anyway. Maybe then I'd feel better about leaving her over here tonight.
Jesus. She was stressing about me being a serial killer. Meanwhile, she's been walking around for two goddamn years while a drug addict and a fucking criminal knows that she lives here alone.
I need her to fall in love with me immediately so I can get my ring on her finger, move in with her, and ensure she's safe. She cannot be walking around unprotected for the rest of her life. I'll lose my damn mind.
"Behave tonight," I growl, breaking the kiss when she starts trying to climb my body.
"Maybe," she says. "Maybe I'll run naked through the neighborhood instead."
I swat her gently on the ass, nipping her bottom lip. "Let me catch you out here naked, Rebel. See what happens."
"You aren't making me want to behave any," she whispers.
I groan, practically launching myself down the steps. "Lock the door behind you, Olive. And put a table in front of it."
"They aren't going to break in, Mason," she says, laughing quietly.
I turn, shooting her a look hot enough to scorch the planet. "No, but I might."
The way she whimpers is going to kill me. It'll be listed right there on my death certificate under cause of death. Olive's hot-as-fuck whimpers. I can't get enough of them.
Hell. I can't get enough of her.
I barely sleep all night. Instead, I stalk my window like I'm on guard duty.
I'm not even sure if I'm checking to ensure she's safe, if I'm hoping to catch another glimpse of her, or if I'm waiting to see if she does try to go streaking through the neighborhood.
All I know for sure is that I've got it bad.
By the time the sun comes up, I'm at the hardware store, buying the best fucking locks on the market.
I hit up an electronics store next, grabbing a security camera for her front door and another for her backyard.
Maybe it's overkill. I don't know. I've never felt like this.
I've never had something precious enough to protect.
I do now, and I'm not fucking it up.
She's dressed in the tiniest pair of shorts known to man when I knock on her door. Her hair is a wild mess, a pillow crease still on her cheek. She looks ravishing, utterly fuckable, and adorable all at the same time.
"I dreamed about you," she blurts by way of greeting.
"Yeah?" I look her up and down. "Were they kinky dreams, Rebel?"
"No." She scrubs her hands over her face like she's trying to get her head together. "You were a prophetic parrot named Heathcliff, and you and Oscar ate the mailman."
"Jesus Christ." I chuckle, striding forward to kiss the fuck out of her. "At least I wasn't a serial killer."
"You ate a mailman, Mason," she mumbles before melting into my embrace with a soft sigh.
I palm her ass, squeezing one plump cheek.
She gasps, grinding against me.
"Keep that up, and it won't be your doorknob getting drilled today, Olive," I growl, nipping her lip before I set her away from me. "I came to work."
She looks me up and down, licking her lips. "Are you going to do it shirtless?"
I set the bags on her coffee table, chuckling. "Is that a hint, Rebel?"
"Maybe."
I reach over my shoulder, yanking my shirt up over my head. It lands on her couch before I meet her gaze, smirking. "Happy now?"
"What?" Her gaze crawls all over me, her eyes glossy. Christ, I love the way she's looking at me like she wants to climb me and have her filthy way.
"You happy now, baby?"
"Almost," she whispers. "Ask again when you're sweaty."
"I'll do that."
She grins at me, completely unrepentant, and I swear to Christ, I feel myself falling harder. I don't know what kind of magic she has or what the fuck this is, but I like it. A whole fucking lot.
"Grrr."
I glance down in time to see Oscar come racing out of the hallway, ready to fuck me up.
It's hard to take him seriously when he's in pajamas with rubber ducks all over them and a goddamn bonnet.
When he realizes it's just me, he skids to a stop at my feet, his warning growl turning to an excited yip.
"Hey, Killer." I scoop him up in one hand, stroking his tiny nose. "You babysitting your mama today?"
His tongue lolls out.
"More like he's going to terrorize me while I bathe him," she mutters, watching him with a smile on her face.
"He doesn't like baths?"
"Oh, he does. It's getting him out that's the problem." She rolls her eyes. "He has opinions about being evicted from his spa."
"You want me to bathe him?"
"I can do it." She flashes me a bright smile, gathering her hair back into a quick ponytail. "I'm going to make breakfast first. Are you hungry?"
I look her up and down. "I could eat."
Her cheeks turn pink. "For food, Mason."
"I could eat," I repeat, smirking. "Matter of fact…" I set Oscar on his feet before stalking toward her.
"W-what are you doing?" she asks, licking her lips when I hook my hands around her waist, boosting her up onto a desk pushed up against the wall.
"I want dessert first," I growl.
She whimpers, her eyes going glossy. The pulse in her throat jumps.
I run my hands down her thighs, loving the way her skin feels beneath my palms. She's so damn soft, so sweet. I kneel between her legs, my eyes locked on hers. "You going to be good and let me eat, Rebel?"
"Y-Yes," she whispers.
"Lift up." I tap her hip, helping to balance her and rip her shorts and panties down her legs at the same time. As soon as they're off, I toss them over my head.
Oscar growls and chases after them. I catch him disappearing down the hall, dragging her shorts with him, but I've got more important matters to deal with right now.