Mason
MASON
T he anxious feeling deep in my gut won’t quit. It only gets more intense as Julia walks behind me, politely maneuvering her small frame amid the crowd of people. Watching her from my periphery, I listen to the rhythmic sound of her heels and watch how her hips sway gently.
She doesn’t notice me, which is by design, but still it aggravates me.
She passes so close behind me on her way to the restrooms that I catch a hint of her sweet scent.
No doubt it’s perfume, a gentle floral mixed with citrus of some sort but as it fills my lungs, I can’t help but grip the bar top tighter to keep myself from following her.
Ever since I caught a glimpse of her, I haven’t been able to move or get her out of my head. For months, I haven’t thought twice about her. Each time her picture swept into my head, I pushed it away.
But she’s here now, so close that I could touch her.
I can’t approach her, though. How fucked up would that be?
I can’t cross that line. She doesn’t know a damn bit of the truth.
I down the remainder of my whiskey and slide the empty glass forward, pissed off and frustrated.
As I stand abruptly, the stool slides backward and bumps into someone. I turn to look over my shoulder while reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. “Sorry,” I say without thinking only to find myself staring directly at Julia.
Her eyes still aren’t on me as she waves off my apology, looking at the bottles lining the back of the bar before finally resting her gorgeous blue eyes on me. This close to her I can see they’re pale blue with flecks of silver speckled throughout. They’re beautiful.
She shakes her head just slightly, making her hair fall off her shoulder and exposing more of her bare skin.
“It’s fine.” Her voice is soft as she walks forward without missing a beat, stepping up to the bar on my right, coming closer.
Like a lamb heading into the lion’s den, teasing and taunting unknowingly.
She’s so close to me, so damn alluring. The black lacy dress clings to her curves. Her hips are seductive and I can just imagine how they’d feel to hold as I took her from behind. I can feel the bartender’s eyes flicker to me questioningly as Julia orders, but I can’t take my gaze off Julia.
I swallow thickly, leaning my forearms against the bar and attempting to act casual, getting that much closer to her.
She doesn’t know anything about how we’re linked and she doesn’t have to. She’ll never know the truth and this is my chance to learn more about who the pretty face in the picture is.
“Julia, right?” My heart pounds, questioning why the hell would I admit that I know anything at all about her. I don’t intend to lie to her, though. Nothing but lies of omission. I’ve heard her name in social circles. Her family is well known so I doubt she’ll be surprised that I recognize her.
“Jules,” she corrects me warmly, now looking at me differently than she did a moment ago. She seems to do a double take and a hint of playfulness sparkles in her eyes. It’s as if I’m suddenly what she’s been looking for. Or maybe who she’s been waiting for.
“Ah, Jules.” I tap my fingers on the bar and glance away for a moment. What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t just playing with fire, this is worse. It’s asking to be burned and shoving my fists into the coals.
Patricia sets two shots of what look like chilled tequila in front of Jules. I watch with interest as she throws the first one back without thinking twice. Her slender fingers slip around the second one, ready to down it as well.
The pain comes off her in waves. She’s drowning it in alcohol. She’s good at hiding her emotions on the surface, but her actions speak so much louder than words.
“For a moment I thought you got two so you could share with me,” I say teasingly with a smirk, more to keep her from drinking it than the desire to have it for myself.
She licks her lips and smiles. “You want it?”
Goddamn, does she know how she’s coming off right now? She’s already testing me, because just hearing those words slip between her lips has my dick straining against my zipper. Yes, I fucking want it. She’s forbidden. The one woman in this city I should stay far away from.
“If you’re offering,” I answer her with a flirtatiousness I don’t recognize. She blushes and tucks her hair back behind her ear. As she pulls her eyes away from me, she catches a glimpse of something across the room that rips the happiness from her in an instant.
I throw back the shot but keep my eyes on her. The cold liquid burns. I was right about it being tequila. It’s strong too. Stronger than I expected and it takes the breath from me, making my chest feel tight, but then it relaxes me all the way down.
I hold up two fingers for Patricia. “Another two,” I say and stand, sliding the stool I’d been sitting on over to Jules. “I took your shot so it’s only fair,” I say. Instantly, her eyes come back to me.
I watch as they swirl with a mix of questions. Vulnerability is clearly present and that only makes her that much more enticing.
“I’m not sure I should,” she says softly. Her honesty is so raw, so genuine.
“You really shouldn’t,” I say with complete honesty as well. She deserves that much. She’s Little Red Riding Hood in fuck-me heels and I’m worse than the Big Bad Wolf. I lean forward, knowing I’m breaking every rule I have as I bring my lips just inches from the shell of her ear.
Her fingers tighten on the edge of the stool as I whisper, “But you want to. And this is so much better than whatever you were going to do.” I’m not sure if what I said is meant more for her or for me, but either way, I’ve convinced myself.
My rough voice and hot breath make goosebumps trail down her shoulder. Her nipples pebble under her dress, just barely becoming noticeable beneath the expensive fabric that graces her skin. I pull away from her, offering her space and an out.
She could leave if she wanted to. She could walk away. Fuck, she could call me an asshole and I’d sit here and do my best to pretend I’ll never go after her again.
It takes a moment for Jules to pull herself together. She sits there in what seems like a daze. It’s only when Patricia sets down the shot glasses, spilling just a touch of the chilled tequila, that she meets my gaze again.
I take the one closest to Jules and hold it out to her. She keeps her eyes on me but accepts it.
“Here’s to things we know we shouldn’t do,” I say with a smile, lifting my glass and extending it for a toast.
Slowly, so very slowly, that bit of happiness comes back to her. Her eyes keep flickering with uncertainty to the floor and across the room.
“Here’s to doing what makes us happy,” she says, forcing her shoulders back straight as she clinks her glass against mine and then downs every drop. She slams her glass on the bar while I’m left holding mine and watching her every move.
I toss it back as she picks up her clutch, obviously ready to pay for the shots.
“Don’t.” There’s more strength in my voice than I should have used. I soften my tone as I tell her, “It’s on me.” I hesitate then add, “I was just getting ready to leave.”
She watches me cautiously, but I look toward the bartender as I get out my wallet. All the while paying attention to Jules in my periphery.
“Well, thank you … what’s your name?” she asks.
“Mason,” I answer her hoping she’s never heard of me, but she brightens and nods her head.
“Thatcher. Yes, I thought I recognized you.” She bites the inside of her cheek as something occurs to her and her expression falls slightly. “I’m sorry to hear?—”
“To happiness, right?” I say, cutting off her apology, then pass my card to Patricia. It hurts me to say the words, but I don’t bother to hide it.
That only makes her frown, somehow making her appear even more beautiful and alluring. We’re both in pain. Both getting over something. Only this shit I did to myself whereas she’s collateral damage.
She turns to the bar again, the playfulness gone.
“To happiness, and to the things we want,” I tell her as I sign the receipt and leave the pen on the bar. I spear my fingers through my hair, feeling the heat of the moment and the buzz of the liquor starting to affect me.
I glance at her and watch as she closes her eyes. It’s affecting her too. She’s easy prey—beautiful, naive, innocent. I’m an asshole for doing this, but I can’t help that I want her. Her eyes haunt me, but her body tempts me.
“I’m going to get out of here.” I let my hungry gaze roam down her sexy curves, not hiding what I want from her in the least. “You want to come with?”