Definitely worse than cum.
“I’m super sorry,” Max grabbed the boy. “I would have waited to come over if I knew he was this sick. I only came to grab the Xbox. They wanted to play.”
“Don’t worry about.” She struggled to not speak through clenched teeth. “I need to clean up, though.”
“I’ll show you were the bathroom is. You can take a shower.” Mason stood.
She might tease him about not peeking, to see him blush again, but not in front of the kids, and definitely not when she was covered in vomit.
Mason led her through a bedroom that was barren except for some luggage and a bed. He reached through a doorway and flipped a switch. Light spilled from the bathroom, across the dark rug.
“Towels are in the closet. Take your time,” he said.
She locked the door after he left, and a second one that led to another room. She assumed it was Max’s, with more space dedicated to the three monitors on a desk than anything else.
The bathroom was clean. Sparkling white tile and simple decor. Not at all what she expected from two bachelors. Something to be grateful for. She’d take any small ray of sunshine in the midst of this shit day.
Mason was more than a ray. Would she give up all the bad luck of the past thirty-six hours if it meant not meeting him? The impulsive answer was of course. The rest of her wasn’t so eager to surrender the random encounters.
She stepped into the shower clothed, and let the cool water rinse her shirt. A wicked thought flashed through her mind. If she’d left the door unlocked, would Mason risk peeking in?
The image played in her mind as she stripped off her shirt. He wouldn’t. But that was part of what made the idea so tantalizing. The fantasy of hearing the door creak, and seeing him leaning against the door frame, watching her with that dark gaze.
Ginny draped the clothes over the top of the shower. The pictures danced in her mind. Of soaping up while he looked on. Sliding her hands over her skin. Stripping had ceased to be a turn-on for the most part, years ago. But at the thought of the private peep-show, dampness grew between her legs.
She slipped her fingers lower, imagining him stroking himself through his jeans while she performed.
A squeal carried in from the other room, shattering her fantasy.
Had she really been about to finger herself because of such a simple idea? She had more control than that.
She finished her bathing, ignoring the thrum of desire between her thighs. She dried off, and toweled her hair the best she could. It would frizz uncontrollably if she slept on it wet, and it took hours to dry.
She dug through her bag. Figured, she’d either packed her diffuser away, or left it at her apartment.
With a sigh, she braided her hair. It would still be damp in the morning, but that was better than the alternative.
Feeling refreshed and more relaxed than she had since yesterday—if she ignored the desire that lingered under her skin, she wandered back into the living room.
“Ah, no.” Mason gave an exaggerated groan and fell back on the cushions. “I can’t believe you got me.”
The kids giggled and high-fived each other. They were all playing some version of Smash Brothers. Mason’s smile was as huge as theirs. He looked up and his gaze lingered on her.
An explosion came from the TV and he jerked his attention away.
“They wanted to make sure you were all right.” Max’s voice next to her ear startled her.
She whirled to see him standing in the doorway of his bedroom, backpack slung over his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. Was she just horny? No. Because the idea of the roommate peeking in on her didn’t move her needle one way or the other.
“Good.” Max clapped his hands. “Come on, y’all. We need to go.”
The girl ran up to Max and tugged his hand. He crouched, and she whispered something in his ear.
“You’ll have to ask her.” Max stood again.
The girl moved to Ginny. “Can I have a hug?”
Ginny had never been a fan of kids, but how was she supposed to say no to a request like that? “Of course.” She knelt and hugged the girl.
“Me too,” the brothers shouted in unison, and ran forward. They half-tackled Ginny, nearly knocking her over. She laughed in spite of herself.
“I hope you feel better,” she said to the younger one.
He nodded.
“Come on. In the car.” Max shooed them toward the door. “It was nice meeting you,” he called over his shoulder.
She waved. An unfamiliar longing pinged in her chest, loving the normalcy of all of this. Growing up, she’d never appreciated the cookie-cutter, suburban life. There was a kind of sugar to it though that almost made her miss that part of her past. Almost.
She was far less stifled this way.
She shook the thoughts aside, and joined Mason again. She tried to be subtle about keeping a few inches between them on the couch. A little teasing was fine, but she wasn’t fucking someone else’s boyfriend. Especially not the guy she had to spend the next three-plus days in the car with.
He switched the TV back to MST3K, and they watched until he was yawning as much as talking.
They both acted without many words, throwing away the pizza box, and straightening the living room.
“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into his room, and returned with a blanket, pillow, and sheet. He unfolded the futon frame. “I’d be a gentleman and offer you my bed, but it’s no more comfortable than this is. I don’t regret leaving it behind.”
Another odd ache pinged inside, and she tried to ignore the desire to invite him to curl up next to her. Not for sex. Maybe for sex. But mostly she wanted to... cuddle? Not like her at all. Especially with a stranger. “No worries. I’m good here. See you in the morning?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t turn away though.
“Who’s wedding are you going to?” She didn’t know where the question came from.
He paled, and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at the ceiling, then at her. “Just a friend. No one. Good night.” Mason turned away and closed the bedroom door behind him.
She wasn’t certain, but she swore she heard a lock turn.
The obvious lie must be because she’d pried into something too personal. A night of movies and pizza, and meeting a couple of his acquaintances, didn’t make them friends.
She couldn’t shake the nagging that there was more to what he was holding back, though. She hoped if the truth came out, it wasn’t painful. Or dangerous.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mason was grateful Ginny didn’t seem to be any more of a morning person than he was. They grunted enough words to get some coffee, finish packing his car, and get on the road.
Last night when she asked about the wedding, too many answers stuck in his throat. Seeing her in a tight T-shirt, nipples perked up, and a flush on her cheeks, he wanted to say I don’t really have a girlfriend. Let’s share that futon. But fuck, that was tacky and crass. He could have just told her the truth. It was a stupid, silly thing to hesitate over. The longer he waited, it more significant it would seem, when it wasn’t a big deal
But he’d paused too long, and the only thing that came out was the same story he’d already told.
Now, they drove in silence toward Alabama. Once they left the commuter traffic behind, it was smooth driving. The sun was behind them, and the caffeine was kicking in.
They crossed the state border. “How do you want to handle gas?” he asked.
She was snacking on dry Honey Nut Cheerios that they grabbed from the cupboard on their way out. There was also a bag of Doritos in the back seat, and the second Coke they never drank last night.
It wasn’t much, but it would fill in blanks and save them both a little money.
“You fill up, and I give you have the cost in cash. Does that work?” She crunched on another chip.
“Sounds good to me.”
Silence settled bet
ween them. Being more alert, it meant Mason’s mind was free to do what it wanted. Apparently that included flashing him reminders of Ginny taking off her clothes. Slowly. Seductively. Until she wore nothing.
“We should put on some music.” He blurted out the suggestion. “What kind do you like? I’m open to anything.” Like her grinding in his lap to Cherry Pie. No. Not that. “Dance beats. Hip hop.” He wasn’t a fan of the throbbing bass, but it would distract him from his throbbing cock.
“Anything with a heavy bass line reminds me of work.” She drummed long, slender nails on the dashboard. “What do you like?”
He’d start with not being reminded of her work. “It’s gonna sound weak, but my parents raised us the stuff they grew up with. Eighties hair metal and classic rock. I’m kind of a fan.”
“Warrant? Poison? Def Leopard?” Excitement wove into her voice?
“Yeah. Among others.”
She grabbed the connector for his stereo and plugged it into her phone. “I have the perfect thing.” The opening strains of Cherry Pie drifted through his speakers. Because of course that was what she’d pick. “This is my practice at home, just for me playlist. But I can share just this once.”
“Practice as in...?”
“Dancing. Duh.” She laughed.
His mind was filling in new images with each new verse, of Ginny straddling his legs. Of gliding mouth along her body. Of dipping lower, and the soft gasps she’d make when he plunged two fingers inside her. Desire prickled over his skin, and his jeans were too tight. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached.
Nope. Music was a bad idea. He turned the volume down.
“Is something wrong?” Her question was too flirty. Too light and playful.
Either she knew exactly what he was thinking, or his imagination needed to be kicked to the curb. “Nah. I’m just thinking it’s too early to appreciate the music. Besides, I still don’t know anything about you. How do you do that?”
“Professional magic. On two fronts. And sure you do. You know I have a Harley Quinn stripper outfit. You know I like MST2k. And you know I have a playlist of raunchy hair metal that’s easy to retrieve at a moment’s notice.”
Good point. He needed to pay closer attention. What else did he know about her? “You have a sweet tooth.”
“Busted. Give me sugar—or pizza—any day, and I’ll follow you like a puppy.” She ducked her head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I promise not to use the knowledge for evil.”
She trailed her nails up his leg, leaving goosebumps behind. “No need to be hasty.” She snatched her hand away. “Sorry. Forgot the girlfriend. Tell her any implied indiscretions were my fault. You’re being a perfect gentleman.”
Except he wasn’t. Tell her. And then she’d flirt even more, and he’d have an even harder time ignoring it, and he didn’t need that kind of complication.
Weak excuses. Every one of them.
Said the brain trying to sabotage him with a permanent erection. “I’m not that great. I have my man-boy moments, too.”
“And I have my psycho-bitch moments. Everyone’s got their flaws. Favorite band and song. Be honest. If you had to listen to one song on repeat for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
“Wow.” He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. That was a specifically tough question. “A single song for the rest of my life...? I’d pick nothing.”
“You have to pick something, for hypothetical purposes.”
That was a lot of pressure. He spit out the first thing that came to mind... that wasn’t Cherry Pie. “2112.”
“Rush? Geek rock?”
He didn’t know how to interpret her tone, but he refused to apologize for his taste in music. “Yes.”
“Love it.” She scrolled through her phone, and a second later, the muted sounds of Rush filled the car. “Plus, it’s so long, it won’t repeat so many times.”
Good point. He should’ve thought of that. “What’s yours?”
Ginny made several hmm and ummm sounds. “Nothing nearly so elegant and well-orchestrated. Rag Doll.”
“Aerosmith?”
“Trite. I know.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. And not even because I’m being polite. It’s a good song,” Mason said.
“Yeah? I really like the...”
Mason glanced at her to see her staring out the window at the passing scenery. “Everything all right?” he asked.
“I grew up just a few miles away.” She gestured. “Bad memories.”
“Abusive home?”
She gave a barking laugh. “My childhood wasn’t at all what you’re thinking.”
He didn’t know what to make of the abrupt shift to sarcasm. “What am I thinking?”
“That I’m the poor little stripper girl, who grew up subject to the wrath of a belt. Probably by my mom’s boyfriend. That I ran away from home to escape.”
He hated to admit the possibility crossed his mind. “That’s a bit cliché.”
“Yeah. But it’s true.” She let out a heavy sigh.
“Really?” He rolled his eyes when he saw the twitch of a smile on her face. “No. Not really.” He was starting to get a sense for when she was teasing him.
Her laugh was more genuine this time. Clear and light. “No. Not really. Upper middle-class family. Exclusive school. Adoring parents. Think Clueless.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“What?” Her shock sounded real. “Classic cheesy teen movie. We have to fix this hole in your experiences.”
Mason wasn’t sure he needed that, but he wouldn’t turn down the chance to watch movies with Ginny. The abrupt thought surprised him. “What spoiled your childhood, then?” he asked.
“What makes you think something did?”
“Upper middle-class family that loved you, but you’re scrimping for enough change to split gas costs and drive cross country. Did they cut you off? Is this a learn to make it on your own tough love kind of thing?”
“I was expelled in high school.” The sadness was back in her voice. “They caught me fucking one of the girls. We both got kicked out.”
Mason didn’t dare make any assumptions. “Then what?”
“Her parents disowned her. We stayed with mine until we had enough to get our own place. I came home one day to find her in bed with someone else.”
“Ouch.” He bit back the impulse to say I know how that feels. He didn’t, and there was no reason to paint himself in that light. Trina broke up with him before she started dating Spencer.
“Eh. I moved on. No big deal.” The hitch in Ginny’s voice implied it was at least a little bit of a deal. “My parents lost most everything in the tech crash a few years back. A series of bad investments. They live in a manufactured home in North Carolina now.”
In other words, a trailer. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure how much more he was allowed to push for. He had his own secrets he was still figuring out how to spill, and didn’t know if they would come out right, if she turned the questions back on him.
He let silence lapse in the car again.
GINNY DIDN’T WANT TO sink into memories of the past. Especially the depression the break-up with her girlfriend had sent her into. It took Ginny months to climb out of that funk, and decide she wanted to live her life for herself.
“You said you’d lived in California before?” She very much wanted the conversation off her. That was true under most circumstances, but especially now.
He hesitated. “Yeah. I worked out there a year or so ago. My dad got sick, so I moved back home to help. He’s doing better now. My old job and friends are waiting for me in Malibu.”
“And the girlfriend.” She shouldn’t keep going back to that.”
“Exactly.” The word came out flat.
Ginny should drop the subject. He’d let her shift away from her past. But that was the difference—she was glossing over her past, and he was hiding something about now.
At least, that was what she tried to tell herself. A bit of her argued back that it didn’t matter if he had a girlfriend or not, or the details of their relationship. She was just being nosy and curious. “I hope I have a chance to meet her.”
Why did she say that?
“I guess we’ll see.” His reluctance was almost tangible.
“Unless you’re embarrassed to introduce her to your stripper friend.” It was almost a mean card for Ginny to play. She got the impression he didn’t mind.
“She’d probably love you.” That was the sincerest sounding thing he’d said in the last several minutes. “But I think she’ll be busy.” And now the lies were back.
“Does she work a lot?”
He hesitated again. “She does. But she’s also involved with the wedding.”
Drop this. “Is she a friend of the bride?”
“Definitely. And she’s pretty close with the groom, too. They knew each other when they were younger.”
“What’s her name?” That was an innocent question. Wasn’t it?
“Trina.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
Mason sighed. “Why are you badgering me?”
The edge in his question caught her off-guard. She was asking a lot of questions, but she didn’t mean to harass him. A sliver of hurt worked in too, despite the nagging in her head saying I told you so. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you. Fuck.”
She forced herself not to pout, despite the wound left behind by his irritation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mason shouldn’t have snapped. He was annoyed with himself for being unable to tell the truth, and he took it out on her. “I’m sorry. I think the sun is making cranky.”
“Sure. I get that.” Ginny’s voice was flat. “Anytime you want to trade off, let me drive so you can take a break, let me know.”
“Will do.”
And that was that. The music drifting from the speakers didn’t do anything to hide the uncomfortable silence between them. Through another stop for gas, and the sun sliding past them in the sky, to land in front of the car, she stayed tight-lipped.
Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4) Page 4