by Parker, Ali
“Dead isn’t in my plans,” I said.
Benji’s jaw tightened. “Then don’t pull stunts like the one you did last night. You knew full well that they were setting you up, and you took the bait anyway. All because you wanted to pass a painted line first.”
I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that.”
“Is there?”
“Yes,” I said sharply.
The conversation was cut short when Rick emerged behind Benji. His hair was still wet, and he had a fresh shave. His eyes were still bruised and his nose still swollen, but he was looking a little more like himself each day. He nodded at me. “How you feeling, brother?”
“Fine.”
Rick frowned as he looked from me to Benji. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Benji said, leaving the kitchen. “Take it easy today, Mason. Head trauma is tricky. It’ll sneak up on you and knock you on your ass. Let’s go, Rick.”
Rick didn’t follow Benji right away. He looked to me as if asking for permission.
I nodded. “I’m all right.”
They both left. I heard the front door close. I was sure Rick would pick Benji’s brain until he told him what we’d been talking about. Then they could both sit in the car and talk about how reckless they thought I was being.
And it wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I was racing on Saturday. There was nothing that would keep me off the track. I could face whatever Mark and Sid threw at me next. I had to.
My stomach rolled. I wasn't sure if I felt ill from the head trauma or if I was hungry. I decided to wait it out a bit and killed time by making my way upstairs—with excruciating slowness—and into the bathroom to shower. The hot water stung the cut on my scalp from where my head had slammed into the roll bar, but besides that, the hot water felt like a dream. I scrubbed the blood out of my hair and stepped out feeling squeaky clean and smelling like soap rather than copper.
I toweled off and headed downstairs to make something to eat. I went for something bland, toast and butter.
I managed to eat one slice before my stomach clenched in protest.
My head spun.
“Fucking shit,” I hissed as I gripped the kitchen counter to steady myself.
Benji had been right. Head trauma could be a finicky bitch. One minute you felt fine, and the next, it was kicking you in the teeth.
I waited for it to pass. It didn’t. It lingered.
When the dizziness refused to subside, I decided I wasn’t going to fight it. Each step was risky as the world tipped and spun around me. The stairs were hell, but I made it to the top and then to my bedroom where I dropped my towel and slid under the blanket.
I melted into the mattress and passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Chapter 20
Laina
Work was soul-sucking on Sunday evening. All I wanted to do was get back to Mason and make sure he was recovering well. He was all I could think about. It took everything I had to stop myself from calling him. If he was asleep, I didn’t want to wake him up.
So I called Rick instead, who told me that he and Benji had been out of the house, but they’d stopped by to check in on Mason around six in the evening. Apparently, he had made it up to his bedroom and was out cold but doing fine.
Rick told me that he and my brother were going to head out that night and meet with some car guys to try to find one to race. He promised me he and Benji would stop by my work and give me a key to Mason’s place so I could see him after work.
They came by an hour before my shift ended. Benji didn’t seem too thrilled to be handing over a key to Mason’s house, but he did it regardless.
“Thanks,” I said as I pocketed it. “I’m off at nine, so I should be there just after.”
“I won’t be back until late,” Rick said. “One of the guys we’re meeting up with isn’t available until midnight. He might be our best shot at landing a car.”
I bit my bottom lip. “So Mason still wants to race then?”
Benji nodded. “He’s hell-bent on it.”
I sighed. “Okay. Well. It is what it is, I guess.”
My manager called over to me and told me one of my tables was waiting. I nodded at both Benji and Rick. “Thanks for stopping by. Good luck finding a car.”
They ducked out, and I went back to serving my tables. I told all our customers the meal and drink specials. I smiled and put on a brave face. I joked with the fun tables and pretended not to be annoyed by men who hit on me. All the while, I was thinking about Mason.
At a quarter to nine, Carrie came up to me. I was in the kitchen waiting for my order to be plated. She put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey. I’ll take over. Why don’t you get out of here? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“Really?” I asked.
She nodded. “Really. It’s only fifteen minutes, but hey, it’s better than nothing. And I owe you for the other night. Go home.”
“You’re the best,” I said, giving her a quick hug before I untied my apron and hurried out into the break room. I threw my sweater on, grabbed my purse, and ducked out the back door before my manager had a chance to see me leaving. I got to my car, slid into my seat, and pulled out of the spot with my heart feeling lighter in my chest. I was going to see him soon.
I arrived at Mason’s at nine o’clock. The lights were off inside, and he didn’t answer when I knocked. So I let myself in.
I took off my black heels and jacket, pausing only to hang it on the hook in the hallway. I headed into the depths of the house and called Mason’s name softly. No answer. He must still be sleeping.
I didn’t find him in the living room. The sheets I’d thrown over the sofa were gone, probably thrown in the wash after getting blood on them. I did a lap of the lower level to make sure he wasn’t downstairs, and then I put a hand lightly on the railing as I crept up to the second level.
I found him in his bedroom.
Mason was lying under his blanket—well, half under. His legs and ass were covered, but his back was exposed as he slept on his front with his head turned to the side, facing away from me. Even in the darkness of night, I could make out the bruises on his back from the crash.
I put my purse down on the floor with my sweater and went to his side. I perched myself on the edge of the bed and fell perfectly still. His breathing was low and calm. Relaxed. I let the sound of it wash over me and soaked up the sight of him, bruises and all, and reveled in how lucky he was to still be alive.
How lucky I was to have him.
My fingers trembled as I reached out and ran my index finger up his spine. His skin was warm. I let my touch wander over his shoulders and back down before resting my hand in my lap. I sighed.
There was no sense in lingering while he slept, so I got to my feet. The bed creaked when I stood, and I froze, hoping I hadn’t woken him.
But he stirred.
He lifted a hand to his head and rolled halfway to me. His voice was thick with fatigue when he spoke. “Laina?”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine thirty.”
“Where are you going?”
I bent and picked up my purse from the floor. “Home. I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you were okay. Do you need anything?”
He rolled all the way onto his back. “Yes.”
I was surprised by his answer. I’d always taken Mason for the type to never need help—or to refuse it even if he did. I went closer. “Anything. Just name it.”
His smile surprised me even more. He reached out and took my wrist and pulled me to the edge of the bed. My purse slipped from my shoulder and landed on the floor at my feet. “I need you,” he said.
He pulled me down on top of him. “Mason,” I said, trying to sound serious through my bashful giggling. “You’re hurt. We shouldn’t—”
“But we should.”
“I think this is a bad idea.”
“I was i
n a car crash,” he said. “And you’re going to deny me this?” He grabbed my ass and squeezed.
More laughter bubbled out of me. “You’re so bad.”
He ran his hands over my hips and down my thighs to my knees, which were planted on either side of his hips. Then he worked his way back up, this time slipping his hands up the inside of my black button up. “Are you telling me you don’t want this, Laina?”
I bit my bottom lip. My brain was telling me this was a bad idea. He was still hurt and should be taking it easy so he could recover. But my body was straining to be free of my clothes. To feel his hot flesh against my own and to have his cock buried inside me. “I want this,” I whispered.
Mason popped open the bottom button of my shirt and then the next and the next until he had worked his way all the way to the last one. He undid that one, too, and then pushed the shirt open, revealing my plain black T-shirt bra. Had I thought this was going to happen tonight, I would have worn a sexier one.
“Take it off,” he said. His voice was deep.
I shrugged my shoulders out of the shirt and let it fall to the bed. Mason grabbed it and threw it on the floor as I undid the clasp between my breasts. I took it off and threw it where he’d tossed my shirt.
“The pants too,” he said.
He watched me with hungry eyes as I undid the fly of my black jeans. I probably smelled like a restaurant. He didn’t seem to give a damn or even notice. I stood up on the bed, keeping my feet on either side of him, and stepped out of my jeans. He watched, looking up at me like I was some sort of goddess, and ran his hands up my bare calves.
I went back down on top of him, straddling him. I could feel his thick erection through the blanket. I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against him.
Mason chuckled and tugged the blanket down, revealing his own nakedness.
In the dark, I could pretend his bruises were more tattoos. Tattoos I had to be mindful of.
His cock reached up to his navel and rested between my thighs. He was pressed up against my lips, and my wetness was trying to take him in. I rotated my hips, grinding myself on him. Mason made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat that had me aching with need so intense, it almost hurt.
“Do you have condoms?” I asked. My voice was almost a whimper.
“Nightstand,” he grated.
I leaned over him. My tits were in his face, and he seized the opportunity to squish them together with his hands and take my nipples in his mouth, one after another, switching back and forth with care and equal attention. I fumbled to find a condom as he moved his hips beneath me, rolling his shaft between my folds.
“I can’t get it when you’re doing that,” I breathed.
“Yes, you can,” he said before pinching my nipple between his teeth.
I gasped and flinched. He chuckled and kept rolling. Good lord. He was going to destroy me. I searched blindly through the drawer until my fingers found something that felt familiar. Foiled and edged, pliable, and containing what felt like a rubber ring.
“Yes,” I half whispered, half moaned.
Mason gripped my ass and held me down as he rolled his hips some more. I tore open the condom, and he released me, letting me lean back to roll it on for him. Then I retook my position on top of him and lifted my hips up. He gripped his shaft and held it up for me as I lowered myself down, taking the tip first, then the first couple of inches, and then when I was ready, all of him.
His size took my breath away, and I had to remain still for a good fifteen seconds or so before I was able to rock gently back and forth on top of him.
“Fuck,” he said between clenched teeth. “Your pussy is so fucking tight.”
“And your cock is so big,” I cooed. “It feels so good.”
Mason moved to wrap his arms around me. I knew what he was going to try to do. He wanted to flip me over and put me on my back. I leaned forward and put my hands flat on his chest. I applied pressure but didn’t put my weight on him for fear of hurting him. “No,” I said firmly.
“No?”
“You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed,” he said with a smirk.
“Let me take care of you,” I said, lifting up and down on his cock, seeing how far I could take it.
Mason drew a deep breath and looked down as I rolled my hips and then worked him over, up and down. “Fuck, baby,” he said, gripping my thighs and squeezing hard.
I quickened my pace. I rode him hard and fast and brought him close to the edge several times. I leaned over him, planting my hands on either side of his head, and he ran his hands up my back and into my hair. He pulled me down to him and kissed me fiercely. Our lips crushed against each other, and his tongue plunged into my mouth as I rode him.
I moaned into his mouth, and he held me tighter. His fingers curled into fists in my hair as I bounced my ass on his dick. The back of my thighs slapped against the top of his, and all of a sudden, I was about to unravel.
Mason thrust his hips beneath me, and I cried out as I came. He groaned and silenced my cry with another kiss, and I continued bouncing on him as he came. I slowed down once he was done, but he didn’t stop kissing me. He rolled me onto my side, stroked my cheek, and kissed my neck, shoulder, and breasts.
I curled up on my side and pulled his blankets up over my hips. “Did I hurt you?”
Mason propped himself up on one elbow and stroked my cheek. “Hell, no, baby girl.”
I kissed his palm. He might have been lying.
I watched him get out of bed and go into the bathroom to take the condom off. He left the door open and didn’t bother turning on the light. When he came back, he was walking gingerly. He was definitely still hurting. He would be for a while.
He slid under the blankets beside me and pulled me against his side. I rested my cheek on his chest and nuzzled in as close as I could get. Mason stroked my shoulder with his thumb, but it didn’t last long. He drifted back off to sleep within minutes, leaving me to lie there listening to him breathe again.
I fought to stay awake just to hear it for as long as I could.
Chapter 21
Mason
“You ballsy motherfucker.”
I opened my eyes. It was morning. Definitely morning. Sunlight was streaming in through the cracked blinds of my bedroom. I could feel the warmth of it on my face, arm, and shoulder of the arm I had out of the blankets and wrapped around Laina.
I rolled halfway over and looked over my shoulder to see Rick standing in the doorway of my bedroom. His words had woken me, and he was shaking his head while grinning at me. “You’re lucky it’s me standing here and not Benji. He might have done Sid and Mark a favor and killed you in your sleep.”
I rubbed at my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Seven thirty.”
“Why the hell are you waking me up so early?”
Rick grinned. “I think we found a car.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Meet me downstairs. We’ll talk about it. And try not to wake her. She’s had a rough couple of days dealing with your shit.”
I listened to Rick’s footfalls on the stairs and rolled back over, propping myself up so I could look down at Laina. She looked incredibly peaceful. Her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, and her hair was splayed out across the pillow.
I kissed her shoulder and slid ever so slowly out of bed—partially because my whole body still hurt and partially because I didn’t want to wake her up. Once I made it out of bed, I got dressed, took a leak, and headed downstairs to find my brother sitting on the sofa.
He had one arm draped over the back and was sipping a coffee he’d clearly helped himself to in my kitchen. His face looked better than it had yesterday. Soon he’d look like his normal self again.
I lowered myself to the couch with care, minding my still burning ribs. Rick watched me and sipped his coffee. Once I found a comfortable position, I sighed with relief. “All right. You said you found a car?�
��
Rick nodded. “A guy named Kline.”
“Kline Patrick?”
“You know him?”
“Sort of. He used to race back in the day when I was getting started. I haven’t seen him around lately, though.”
“That’s because he withdrew from the scene when Mark and Sid started making enemies of everyone,” Rick said. “Kline wasn’t too keen on ending up, well, how you are now, to put it bluntly.”
“I can understand that,” I muttered.
“But,” Rick said, leaning forward, “he does want to stick it to those sons of bitches and see them lose in The Streets. So when we reached out, he was happy to come to your aide. He was down at the industrial park on Saturday night, and he saw what went down. Not only was he shocked that you’re walking, but he’s also stunned you want to race again.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if Rick was trying to offer me a last chance out of this mess. It didn’t matter if he was. I wasn’t taking it.
“Kline wants you to win,” Rick said finally.
“That makes two of us.”
“He’s offering his Boxster.”
“I don’t want to drive—”
Rick held up his hand. “You’re not in a position to be choosy, Mason. Take the damned car. I saw it with my own eyes. It’s a winner.”
I frowned. “Fine. What’s his cost?”
“That’s the best part,” Rick grinned. “Five grand.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I told you. He wants you to win. He’s got a shit ton of money, and he finally found a way where he could stick it to Sid and Mark. This is our best shot.”
“Fuck,” I said, stroking my chin. That was a good deal. “I feel like I’m going to owe him a hell of a lot more than that when this is done.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“All right.” I nodded. “And Benji is in for this? He thinks it’s a good idea? The car checked out?”
“Benji’s in. He’s a bit sour lately. Not sure if it’s cause he’s pissed that he didn’t move ahead to the next round for Saturday or if it’s because you’re banging his sister. Maybe a bit of both.”