Chapter 29
EVA
I’m going to kill Mason Grant.
My pulse won’t slow down as I pace the small storage room—stocked with bottles and barrels and God only knows what else—hiding from the nosy gazes and answering texts for the last hour, including the one I was dreading.
Daniel
I was hoping you’d changed your mind. Apparently not.
Damn it.
Now, I wish I hadn’t ignored Mason. I should have known he isn’t capable of a reasonable response. Last time, he had a gun to Caden’s face. This time, he’s painted a target on mine. What the hell was he thinking?
In a way, I’m glad Penny knows. I’ve been feeling guilty, keeping it from her. Especially since she doesn’t keep a single secret from me. But as for the rest of the world… I’m terrified.
God, Jack is going to kill me. That is, if he hasn’t maxed out on stress and exploded already.
My hand hesitates on the doorknob as I draw a long breath, steadying myself before I step out into the music pulsing through the walls.
I slip out the back door into the pitch black, into the haze of smoke.
In complete contrast to the inside, it’s tranquil out here, under the moonlight, stars peering through thick clouds.
A massive bonfire crackles at the center of the wide circle, flames hissing and spitting, smoke curling upward and drifting through the space.
All around it are rough-cut tree trunks, serving as makeshift seats. But no one is using them.
I search through the football-pitch-sized yard that stretches endlessly, merging into adjoining fields until darkness swallows the horizon. People are scattered through like ghosts in the faint firelight. But I can’t make out any faces.
“Looking for me?” A strong arm snakes my waist from behind, tight enough to squash my resistance. I look him in the eye and give him my best glare. “Where have you been hiding?” Mason grins. Smugness overload.
“I had a lot of messages to get back to,” I spit as eyes everywhere zero in on us. Something that doesn’t seem to bother him at all. I don’t understand that. This affects him, too. How can he be so brazen?
“You had no right to do that,” I bite out.
“Haven’t we established my rights already?” He raises a brow. “Or did you want to remain my dirty little secret?”
No. I’m relieved to have that weight lifted.
Even elated that the pack of girls in the corner aren’t all over him.
But what now? Mason doesn’t think as far ahead as tomorrow, forget weeks or months away.
Or what this means for our families. I’m still trying to decide whether I should call Kate and make sure Grandpa didn’t see it.
Though I doubt it; he still dictates texts to his assistant.
“No, but I didn’t want any more heat on me, either.”
His thumb grazes my lower lip, gently, testing how far he can go. “You can’t cry about something and expect me not to do anything about it.”
My lips part, but no words come. Only the wild flutter of my heart against my ribs. Everything Mason does is so selfish; I didn’t recognize his impulse was purely for me. Still impulsive and reckless and stupid. But for me.
“Now, stop overworking that pretty little head of yours and kiss me already.” He smirks. My eyes squint, but I don’t move. “They are watching.” He cocks his head toward the cluster of girls.
They—because he can’t remember any of their names. And I like that now. If that’s what comes out of this, I’ll take it. Mine is the only name he should remember.
Jesus! I am starting to sound like him.
Just what the hell is this man doing to me?
With a pursed smile, I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. He seizes my waist, lifting my feet off the ground and kissing me raw. Staking his claim. Making a show of it as his friends and some of mine holler and whistle in the background.
An hour later, when most of the crowd leaves, only Mason’s closest group stays back.
Mason, Hugo, and Kane, because they live here.
Me, because Mason won’t let me go. And my friends, because I’m not staying here alone with the death squad.
Mason hasn’t stopped touching me since our kiss.
Whether it’s his hand on my waist, around my shoulder, or pinning me to his side, he keeps me glued to him, literally.
Even as Hugo gathers everyone around the bonfire, he plops down on the wooden bark and drags me onto his lap.
“Nick is pissed at you for getting his hand broken,” Caden tells me across the circle. “He had to skip the tennis tournament.”
“Tell him, he deserves it just for the pool incident.” I shrug.
“Wait, what pool incident?” Mason asks, his gaze dragging to Caden, demanding an answer.
Caden opens his mouth, but I warn him with my eyes. Penny perches next to Caden, close enough to accidentally touch and Caden uses that opportunity to dodge Mason’s question.
Mason pinches me and whispers, “I saw that.”
I roll my eyes and look over to Thea, who sits between Penny and a brooding Kane, the resident grim reaper.
I do not like that.
Why is she sitting next to him? A protective urge to rescue her from his proximity runs through me. If only Mason would let me flex.
Hugo clears his throat and stands, instantly commanding the space.
“All right, people, Bonfire Night! That calls for a lot of drinking, a lot of games and…” He flashes a grin at the two blonds beside him. “A lot of shagging.”
They burst into a mixture of giggles and groans.
“First up: Most Likely To. You ask the question, we vote, the winner takes a shot. Got it? Good. I’ll start.” He places a thumb at his puffed chest. “Who’s most likely to—”
“—have a threesome tonight?” Mason and Kane blurt together before Hugo can finish.
Laughter fills the space as Hugo scowls at Mason and Kane.
“Drink already,” Mason smirks. Hugo grins wide then downs a shot.
Luka, Mason’s fun younger cousin, who I’m pretty sure is completely stoned, raises his arm next. “Who is most likely to have a one-night stand?”
“Not you!” Hugo chortles. The other Fort guys seem to agree. Luka tells them to go fuck themselves. Fingers get pointed, and James takes the win. James? The guy who never looks up from his phone and speaks only when spoken to. I’m learning a lot from this game.
“I’ll go next,” Caden chirps with a secret smile and looks directly at me. “Who is most likely to get blocked by a celebrity on social media?” Penny and Thea exchange a look. Caden bursts into laughter. “Drink, Eva!”
I down my shot, scowling at Caden, then shoot back. “Who is most likely to forget their best friend’s birthday?”
Penny’s jaw drops as Caden chuckles and takes a shot.
“How are you still alive?” Thea asks.
“Cost me a fortune.” Caden shrugs. What it actually cost him was five trips to the Poker Lounge.
“I’ve got one!” Kane raises a lazy finger like he can’t be arsed. All heads turn to him. The last person anyone expected to participate. “Who is most likely to be pussy-whipped tonight?”
My mouth hangs open. Mason is already downing the shot before Kane finishes his question, then pulls me into a kiss while my cheeks burn. Then he throws the glass at Kane’s feet. It breaks next to his shoe as the Grim Reaper laughs manically. And that’s the first time I have seen him laugh.
“Speaking of which,” Mason drawls. “Who’s most likely to die a virgin?”
All fingers point at Kane, apart from Thea and me. We are the only ones not participating in what’s turning into a very crude game.
As the night moves on, true to the English climate, it starts pouring, the bonfire fizzling out with the rain until it’s soaked ashes. We all run inside, half drenched.
Mason grabs my wrist before I can join my friends and pulls me up the stairs, his grip allowing no room for detours. He escorts me to his room, which sits at the end of a long, narrow, haunting hallway with uneven floorboards, a symbol of its age.
The door opens to a large master bedroom, its windows staring out into the wide, beautiful landscape shimmering in the night.
A stone fireplace sits in the center of the room, which has a single recliner in front of it.
There are gym weights set in one corner, a desk, a wardrobe next to the ensuite, and a very large bed.
“That’s a big bed.” I point to black silk sheets.
“It’s king-sized.” He smirks.
“Ah.” I bite my lip. “I dread to think how many queens have been in this bed.”
“One.” I squeal as he lifts me and drops us onto the mattress, me perched on top of him. “And she’s about to do some queening.”
My heart thumps, my thighs already clenching for him on cue. Though I’m not familiar with all the terms he keeps throwing at me.
“What’s that?” I ask, a little nervous.
“It’s when a queen rides her king’s face.” He grins as my jaw slow drops.
Without warning, he reaches under my skirt and rips off my panties. Another pair, gone. I’m about to scold him when he pulls me onto his face so hard, I buckle forward, grabbing the oak headboard for balance.
“Mase…” I begin, but my words desert me when his hot tongue licks the length of my opening.
“Eyes on me,” he says against my pussy lips.
My eyes fly to his bright ones. He holds my gaze as he wraps his lips around my clit, then sucks on it.
“Fuck,” I moan, completely unprepared for the sharp pleasure that ripples through me. My back arches, pressing into him for more.
With a tight grip on my hips, he starts moving me in circular motions, while he dives inside me and eats me out, turning me feverish.
Over the last few weeks, he’s fucked me every which way.
I’m used to his fingers, his thick cock in my pussy and my mouth, so many positions, but having his head between my legs is a sensation I can’t even name.
But it’s one that makes my fingers creep into his hair, grip them tight, and start rocking my hips until I’m riding his face shamelessly, desperately, helplessly.
His eyes deepen, watching me, as I rub myself all over his mouth and stubble.