Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Nina
Ifeel refreshed when I leave Lowerwick. It made me see that there are so many more important things in life than the studio.
Seeing Anthony and the poor health he has right now, it makes me realise that sitting around and wallowing over my misfortune won’t make a difference.
You have to get out, do something. I plan to explore all my options over the weekend so that when Monday comes, I’m ready to get my shit together.
I have to stay positive.
Mason’s been on my mind all afternoon, and being at his childhood home made me feel closer to him. He’s distant right now and it’s hard to understand his headspace, but I want to make things okay between us.
Pulling out my phone, I call him, hoping he will answer.
“Angel,” he says down the phone, his voice smooth and comforting.
I smile wide at the endearment. “Hey.”
Silence stretches between us, and I worry I should have just waited until I got home to talk. I just missed him.
“Sorry I didn’t call today. It’s been busy in the office,” he tells me.
“You don’t need to apologise, it’s me who should be sorry. I know you have a lot on right now, and I should be better. I was a little emotional last night, and I was deflecting my own problems.”
“What?” he says, sounding confused.
“It’s just a job,” tears fill my eyes, and I fight to keep my voice steady. Do I even believe my own words? “I will find something else, and I will work at making it just as good. But I shouldn’t be dragging you down into my mess, it’s not your fault and you have enough going on.”
He clears his throat. “Can we talk about this when I get home, babe? I’m nearly there.”
“Uh, yeah, you might beat me back though.” I chuckle as I think about my impromptu afternoon.
“Where are you? You’ve been out?”
“Yeah, I went to see your sister and dad.”
“Where?”
“Lowerwick.” I frown, gripping the phone tight.
Shit.
Should I have asked him first?
“The girls were both working, and I knew Scar would be home,” I try to explain.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you at home.”
I already know it’s not fine. The tone of his voice tells me it’s not fine. I keep fucking this up.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Mase.”
“Stop saying sorry. Please. There is nothing for you to be sorry about.” He exhales heavily down the phone, and my heart aches in my chest.
Why does he feel a million miles away from me right now?
“I’ll see you soon,” he says, hanging up.
My mood hits rock bottom, and I regret calling him. I drop my head to the taxi window and let the first tear fall.
Crying. Again.
I feel fed up.
I feel hurt.
And I feel like a fool. I can’t mask the turmoil that’s plaguing me, not when my only escapes are gone.
My studio and my Mase.
Mase
I make it back before Nina, and with my head thoroughly fried after a day trying to find the perfect studio, I decide to order in Chinese for dinner, knowing it’s her favourite.
I’ve been in the gym every morning and evening this week, trying to work off the guilt that seems to be hanging over my head. Despite my constant workouts, my body is still wound tight, and I have no idea how to shift it.
And as for her, I struggle to even look at her, knowing what I’ve taken away.
“Mase?” she calls, making her way through the penthouse.
“In here,” I call back.
“Hey!” She smiles as she steps into the kitchen, and my heart sinks when I see her red-rimmed eyes.
I go to her, taking her in my arms and holding her close. “I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“I’m okay.” She sniffles as more tears fall to my shirt.
I take her chin and lift her face so I can see her. I haven’t given her this connection in days. Our eyes blaze, and I can’t look away, something passing between us that’s deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
A carnal need to take what we both crave.
I shake my head as my mouth comes down on hers, and the world seems to tilt just an inch back into place.
Nina
I’m hungry for him. Starved. If you told me ten minutes ago this is how my evening would go, I would have laughed in your face. But this is us, and it’s what we know. It’s what we are good at.
Mase pulls at his tie, loosening it enough to pull it over his head. His shirt follows moments later. And this isn’t a romantic undressing of one another, we shed our clothes ourselves as we rush to have the connection.
I only manage to get my jeans off of one leg when he lifts me, pushing me back hard into the fridge. My legs wrap around his body as he pulls my trousers down over my foot.
His strong, powerful body ripples under me and I squeeze my legs around him, urging him to come closer.
The lace of my underwear tears as he rips my thong from my hips, and in the next second, he fills me. He drops his head on a deep groan, resting it against my breast bone. He takes a second—unmoving—his breath fanning my heated skin.
“Mase.”
When his head comes up and his gaze meets mine, I see the darkness lurking there.
His brows dip low as I smile down at him, and it seems to break his trance. He begins to move inside me. Hard and fast, not giving me a moment to catch my breath.
His hand lifts my leg, putting it flush to the fridge. My other leg drops an inch from his waist, and the move has him rubbing perfectly against the spot inside me.
“Fuck!” he bites out. “Don’t come yet.”
I close my eyes and try to think of anything but the feel of him.
His movements are uncontrolled and unlike him; a hyper wave of adrenaline as he thrusts into me relentlessly. I grit my teeth as his hand grips my thigh tight enough to mark.
He’s wild. Unleashing everything he has.
My eyes flash open as a tortured cry leaves his throat. His sad eyes are locked on my face, and for a moment, he looks utterly broken.
Dropping his head, he hides from me, picking up the pace until my toes are curling and I can’t hold off any longer.
My body coils tight around him, and I jerk forward as my orgasm takes me.
He follows behind me, pumping three more times inside me before he stills, gripping my shoulder hard as he rains open-mouthed kisses against my throat.
What the fuck was that?
“Mase?”
His head rests heavily on my shoulder as we stand connected as one, but he doesn’t answer me. My leg begins to cramp, and I push from his grip, letting it fall to the ground. My tired eyes meet his, and the smile he gives me soothes some of the worry.
“Go shower, angel, and I’ll set up the table for dinner.”
I yawn and stretch, feeling incredible, my body the perfect kind of sore. Mason couldn’t get enough last night. Every time I thought he was done, he would be desperate for more and I know I’ll pay for it today; I feel exhausted.
Slipping from the sheets, I reach for my phone and see Maggie has texted me.
Maggie
No news this end. Have you had any luck?
I exit the message and chuck my phone to the bottom of the bed.
Shower first, then I’m fixing this mess.
Mason isn’t in bed, so I head for the stairs to look for him. I’m not surprised when I find him in his home office. It’s where he spends all his time lately.
“Hey.” I smile, moving around the desk and climbing into his lap. He buries his nose into my hair, kissing my neck. “You’re up early, Bossman. Even for you.”
“Hmm, I had to get some things sorted for the day. I have something to show you.”
“Yeah?”
He reaches forward and picks up a folder from the desk. I frown, stilling on his lap as he flips over the page and hands me the top sheet. “You can have your pick, but I think this one is perfect,” he whispers into my shoulder.
My heart rate begins to pick up. “I don’t understand; this is for sale and won’t be in my budget—ever.”
“The price is because of location, it puts you close to my office.” He squeezes my hip, watching me for a reaction.
I think he’s trying to suggest this as a new studio, but that would be ridiculous because I could never afford it. “I need to find someplace for rent, Mase. This is ridiculously big, and completely out of my budget.” I laugh nervously.
“I know. Which is why I placed an offer.”
“You what?” I utter, standing and staring down at the sheet of paper in my hands.
“I’ve been looking for days. I viewed a couple, but none of them were right. Then this one came up just yesterday. Do you like it?”
I’ve been looking for days.
“Yeah, but I don’t want it.” I drop it to the desk and leave the office, making my way to the kitchen. I stand at the coffee machine on autopilot and switch it on.
I’ve been here alone the past two days, and he has been out looking at new studios?
“What do you mean you don’t want it?” he fumes, following in after me. “It’s ten times better than your old studio.”
My eyes lift to look at him.
I don’t want to argue.
I don’t want to yell.
I want to run because I know what comes next.
“I don’t want you buying me things,” I tell him, my hand shaking as I pour the coffee. “I’ve told you this so many times.”
“Fucking this again. I thought we were past this? Nina, you won’t be able to afford the start-ups on a new studio now. Let me help you.”
“No. Drop it, please. I will figure it out. I always do.”
“So, what? You’re going to mope around here all day until a studio miraculously lands in your lap?”
“I’m not moping, thank you, asshole!” You’d know if you’d been here. “Leave me alone, I’m not doing this now.”
His anger is pissing me off, and I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later, but the more he pushes, the more my walls go up.
“No, you’ve not been moping because you’re too busy playing house with my fucking family!” he roars.
My eyes go wide, my heart thumping almost painfully in my chest, which is dumb because I knew it was coming. The nasty slap that stings with each syllable that penetrates.
“I thought you said you didn’t care that I went to Lowerwick? Why are you throwing it in my face now?”
He drops his head, his hands spread wide on the worktop. “I just want to fix this. Let me fix it!”