by JC Hawke
“I had a meeting that ran late,” he replies flatly, his eyes flicking between me and the road and then to where my hands are currently exploring.
“This car is super flashy. It’s not like an average car with simple buttons!” I manage to change the clock from twenty-four to twelve hours. It now reads 11:23.
Oops!
“There we go.” I grin up at the deity beside me, pretending it was intentional.
He pops a thick brow at me, a devilish smirk on his face.
He’s so fucking hot.
“Can we drop Luce to her parents’ house?” I ask. “I don’t want her alone tonight, and her sofa is stupidly lumpy.”
“Sure, what’s the address?” He starts tapping the screen, and a box pops up to enter the postcode. It’s outside the city, so I feel bad, but Megan will probably end up at Sam’s, and I can’t have Luce alone tonight. She drank far more than me, and I want to wake up in my own bed in the morning.
I shoot a text to Maggie—my stand-in surrogate mum, and let her know we are on the way.
We pull up to Lucy’s parents’ home twenty minutes later. Childhood memories flash through my mind, and I climb from the car with a smile. Both boys follow, standing off to the side of the pavement.
I lean in to wake up the sleeping beauty. “Luce, babe, we are home.”
She comes around slowly, smiling up at me for a moment before realisation hits. She looks out the window with a groan. “You called my mum? Nina!” She ambles out of the car, her body swaying as I throw her arm over my shoulder and hug her close.
Maggie greets us at the door and takes Lucy from me, pulling her into a warm embrace. I envy their beautiful relationship. Even though I know that she loves me like a daughter, I still wish I had what they did.
She looks over the top of Lucy’s head, slowly opening her other arm out for me. “Come here, you,” she whispers into my hair as I step into her. I’ll never grow tired of that sound. I’ve fallen asleep on this woman as her voice has vibrated through her chest. Every child deserves to know that feeling. It’s the most grounding sound of earth.
I remember we have company and turn, smiling at the gods behind me.
“Maggie, these are our friends, Mason and Charlie.”
Charlie dips his head, muttering a polite hello, while Mason steps up and holds out his hand. Maggie looks more than a little flustered as she takes it.
Not just me, then.
“Nice to meet you,” Mason says, flashing his beautiful smile.
I kiss Maggie’s cheek and hug her waist, then promise to be there for lunch on Sunday. Just as I step away, I feel her hand squeeze my shoulder, a tentative look on her face.
“I’ll be careful,” I tell her.
“I know, and I’ll still worry.” She smiles softly. “You’ll message me when you get home, okay?”
I nod.
We make our way back through the city, the boys both quiet and reserved in their seats. Although, I can feel Mason’s eyes lingering on me every now and again.
Unfortunately for the two of them, I’m drunk, and I have no way of controlling my mouth.
“Who’s Sullivan?” I ask, turning in my seat so I can see both of them.
“Lance?” Mason asks with a frown, his features hardening. “Why do you want to know?”
“Elliot said he was off to meet him tonight.” My gaze drops to the smooth skin of Mason’s hand as he fists the gear stick… hmm. “Is he pretty too?”
They both chuckle, deep rumbling sounds that only the rarest of species seem to be able to make. “Lance Sullivan and pretty isn’t something that goes together in a sentence,” Mason tells me, looking over at me with a warm glint in his eye. He wets his bottom lip and looks back to the road. “Think Tom Hardy, with dark hair and tattoos.”
“Ohhhh, so Sullivan is the bad boy of the group? I thought that was Elliot.”
“What?” Charlie questions from the back seat. “How could you think Elliot?”
“Only in the beginning when he chased off Joey.” He was so in control. So possessive and—
“Who’s Joey?” Mason interrupts my thoughts, adjusting his legs as he looks between me and the road.
“Just some guy at the bar. How do you guys all know each other? Are you actually Elliot’s boss?” I ask Mason.
“Something like that. I’ve known Elliot my whole life—unfortunately. Charles here.” He flicks his head back. “I met at college, and Lance runs our accounts department.”
“Our?”
He gives me a panty-melting smile. “Mine and Elliot’s company.”
“Hmmm. So, you’re both the boss.”
“Uh-huh. Charlie lives just up here. You okay if I drop him off first?” he asks, a boyish look on his face.
Sober Nina would say no. I shouldn’t even be in the car with two men I’ve just met, especially with how drunk I am. God, what was I thinking? “Well, I don’t exactly know either of you, but I have more chance of taking one of you than both at the same time.”
His brows rise in surprise.
“Oh, no! I don’t mean—Jesus, fuck. I mean, if you were to kidnap me or try anything, not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, like I wouldn’t fight you if…”
Oh, my god. Shut up, Nina. Just stop talking now!
“It’s fine. You can drop him off first.” I roll my lips and look out the window.
“Wow,” Charlie remarks at my back.
I don’t dare look at Mason for the rest of the journey, but at least my embarrassment has sobered me up a little.
“Cheers, Mase. We still on for tomorrow?” Charlie asks, climbing from the back seat and shutting the door.
Mason lowers his window farther so he can answer him. “Definitely. It’s fucking needed after the week I’ve had.”
Charlie gives a grim smile in return, then leans his head through the window so he can see me. “I’m sure I will see you again, little Pixie.” He gives a soft wink before disappearing into his building.
Why Pixie? They’ve been calling me that all night.
Mason looks over at me again, his eyes darkening. I squeeze my legs together, trying to ease the ache that’s forming there. It’s been too long.
He pulls out onto the road, thankfully not saying another word. I sit, trying to process the effect he has on me.
“Are you okay?” he asks after a few seconds of awkward silence.
“Umm, yeah. Why?” I feel my palms start to sweat.
“I couldn’t shut you up twenty minutes ago.” He smiles. “You’ve gone quiet on me, and you’re fidgeting.” His eyes drop to my bare legs.
“Just look where you’re driving, Bossman.”
His smirk does nothing to ease the fluster I’ve gotten myself in.
Oh god, why can’t I be normal? He seems so unaffected by me, yet I can’t sit still in my seat.
I turn my head a little to look up at him, taking in his broad chest… that thick neck. My clit throbs against the lace of my underwear.
First job when I get home is to fix that problem.
“You seem close to your friend’s mum? Lucy, wasn’t it?”
My smile is instant, and I welcome the distraction. “Maggie’s the best. One of the most beautiful women I know.”
“Have you known her long?”
“Pretty much my entire life. I met Lucy in nursery school, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”
He nods in understanding. “Me and Elliot have known each other since birth. We are more like brothers than friends.”
We turn onto my street, and I direct Mason to my building. As much as I want to get inside and shower off the remnants of the night, something pulls at my gut, telling me to stay exactly where I am.
Mason taps his finger on the steering wheel, a deep frown in place.
I turn to face him, rolling my lips as I think of ways to delay his departure. “Sorry about your clock.” I laugh, nerves taking flight in my stomach.
“It’s fine. Eas
y fix.” He winks, and then I sit, needing to leave but unable to open the door.
“Thanks for the ri—” I cut myself off when I notice a shadowy figure at the entrance of my building. I gaze past Mason’s head, trying to make out who it is.
Then he turns, giving me a perfect view of his face.
Joey.
Fuck.
I try to school my features but clearly fail. Mason watches me for a moment with a questioning stare, then frowns, turning to look behind him.
“Who’s that?” he asks. I can see his jaw clenching.
“Joey. He’s a friend.”
“Do all your friends wait outside your building late at night?” He raises his brow as he pulls open the handle.
Shit!
“Looks like we are getting out of the car. Okay,” I mutter, cringing as I pull open my door and round the car.
Joey spots me and starts walking toward us. “Nina.” He looks to me and then to Mason with a look of pure disdain. “Who’s this?”
“Mason,” he answers for himself. It comes out a deep growl, and I quickly step in front of him.
“Right.” Joey looks over my shoulder, his eyes narrowing into a glare as he puts his weight on one foot then the other. “Nina, can I speak to you a minute, please?”
“Now isn’t a good time, Joey, maybe tomorrow? You have my number, right? You can call me.” I will do anything to get rid of him right now.
I feel Mason’s hand take hold of my hip, bringing my body back flush against his.
My heart seems to skip a beat at the contact.
“Really, Nina? Do you even know this guy?” he spits.
“Joey, that’s really none of your business!” I can tell he is drunk; he has never spoken to me like this. He is probably still hurt from the bar fiasco earlier.
“What happened to the blond? Or have you already fucked him, bored already?” he asks, tipping his chin.
Mason’s grip on my hip tightens. “Watch your mouth,” he warns, and the air crackles at the tone of his voice.
“Fuck you! You’re better off giving up on this one.” He looks me up and down, and my heart blisters a little. “She’s a prick tease.”
“I said watch your fucking mouth!”
“This has nothing to do with you!” Joey shouts.
Mason grips my arm, pushing me to the side just as Joey comes at us. He swings, catching Mason clean in the mouth. His head goes back, and I’m left standing in utter shock.
Mason recovers quickly, spinning and gripping Joey at the throat, then pins him to the car. Joey’s eyes go wide as the air is squeezed from his body.
“Apologise!” Mason roars.
Joey gasps for air. I’m unsure he could speak even if he wanted to. His eyes dart to me, pleading for me to help.
Slowly, I approach Mason and gently curl my hand around his elbow. “Mason, he can’t breathe.” I can feel his rage radiating off him.
His eyes meet mine, softening some before he loosens his grip around Joey’s throat.
“I’m sorry,” Joey splutters at me.
Mason releases him. “Good boy. Not so hard is it? Have some respect.”
Joey falls to the car, trying to breathe air back into his lungs, but just as he finds his feet, Mason rears his fist back and punches him in the face. Blood pours from Joey’s nose.
“Nina, get in the car,” Mason tells me without taking his eyes from Joey.
“You get in first. Please,” I plead on a shaky breath.
He looks around at me, regret instantly taking over his face. Reaching for my hand, he walks me to his car, opening the door and helping me inside.
He crouches down beside me, his eyes searching my face. I sit frozen as he clasps my jaw in his open palm. My head involuntarily leans into it—his thumb brushes over my bottom lip.
Why does that feel like the most natural thing in the world?
His voice drops dangerously low as he asks, “Do you trust me, Nina?”
“Yes,” I answer far too quickly. Mason shuts my door, muttering something to Joey before he slides into the driver’s seat. He puts the car into drive, pulling back out onto the road.
“Mason, you’re bleeding,” I tell him, my eyes zeroed in on his lip as blood oozes from the wound.
“Have you slept with him?” he asks unapologetically.
My head recoils at his words. “What? No!”
“Would you have let him in tonight? If I wasn’t here?” His jaw tics, his annoyance blatant.
“Ummm, no. I barely know Joey.”
“You barely know me,” he shoots back.
I start to clutch at straws. “I know that you have a Bentley… and a best friend called Elliot,” I tease, my argument weak even to my ears. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? Trust me, sober Nina would not be in this car right now.” I blow out a breath, running my hand through my hair in frustration. “What is it with you men anyway? You’re like a bunch of testosterone-charged teenage boys.”
He drops his head back to the seat, giving me a swoon-worthy smile. “Testosterone-charged teenage boys?” he teases.
I shake my head, my lips twisting up into a reluctant smile.
We arrive at Mason’s a little after one a.m. and I try to act unaffected by the level of wealth in front of me. The building sits back from the tree-lined road—sleek but timeless in its structure. I manage to count maybe twenty apartments in the large building. Each one spaced out, clearly offering a substantial living space.
We park in the underground car park and quickly walk to the elevator. Mason matches my every step with his hand sat low on my back. A flare of panic rushes through me as the steel doors begin to close.
What the hell am I doing?
Maybe I should get a taxi home.
As if sensing my unease, Mason grabs me at the waist, his thumb innocently brushing along the underside of my breast. “I won’t touch you while you’ve been drinking.” His jaw clenches as if it pains him even to say it.
“You can touch me.” I blink up at him, snapping out of it when he laughs and brings his nose to mine.
I swallow, anticipation stirring in my stomach.
“I brought you here so I’d know you’d be safe.” My eyes search his, and I hope mine don’t reflect the disappointment that he doesn’t want me.
“Am I? Safe here?”
“That depends,” he deliberates, playfully weighing up the options.
I choose to humour him, wanting—needing to know. “On what?”
“If you are going to continue to look at me like that.”
I frown, rolling my eyes. “Like what?” I’m aware I am playing directly into his hands.
He has me right where he wants me. Our faces are only millimetres apart, and with each passing second, I can see him starting to relent. His fingers clench around my waist, then instantly smooth over the fabric. I sway on the spot, my eyes fluttering closed as he inches in closer.
“Drunk,” he breathes out across my lips. He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Come on, out.”
He nods his head in the direction of the apartment that stands before me. Only it’s not an apartment like I first thought. No, we are standing in the foyer of the penthouse. It’s enormous, rich… It’s so him.
Stepping out after Mason, my eyes are immediately captivated by the floor-to-ceiling windows that give way to the most incredible view of the city. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my feet carry me on their own accord, lost in the visual sensation before me.
“It looks different from up here. Lit up in its slumber.” I speak my mind, forgetting where I am and the man at my back. I spin, seeking him out, only to find him watching me with an intense fascination. “It’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.”
“Yeah,” he says, his throat working on a swallow as his brows pull in farther.
My eyes scan the rest of the room, only confirming my thoughts that Mason is a lot richer than I first thought, and judging by the look in his eye, maybe—for som
e reason—he doesn’t see the beauty in the world that surrounds him.
Large, grey sectional sofas surround the television, which is mounted on the wall. Magazines litter a rectangular padded footstool that sits on a rug in the centre.
A dining table is on the opposite side of the room, a large open space laying bare between the two areas. It would be the most beautiful spot to dance in as the city looked on.
“It’s beautiful, Mason,” I tell him.
“Thank you,” he says in earnest as he approaches me. “Would you like a drink?”
“Not of alcohol.” I waggle my eyebrows at him.
“Ah, of course. Wouldn’t want you intoxicated now, would we?”
I smile wide, feeling my dimple pop in my cheek. “Absolutely not. Water. Lots of water, please.”
He laughs as he leaves me, and I follow after him through to the state-of-the-art kitchen. He busies himself in the cupboards as I hop up onto the kitchen island, the cool marble teasing my bare thighs.
Handing me my water, he uses his hips to widen my legs, stepping between them and giving me a look that dares me to challenge him on the move. I lick my lips slowly, giving him the best come-fuck-me look I can muster.
I hardly know this man, yet he’s making me act more brazen than I have in years—maybe even ever. I don’t know what it is, but I’m drawn to him.
Reaching up, I run my finger across his split lip. He winces slightly, darting his tongue out across my finger.
“I’m sorry about Joey. Elliot already chased him off tonight,” I admit.
“He did?” Mason looks surprised but wears a knowing smirk.
“Yup, testosterone-filled teenage boys,” I say, shaking my head.
He smiles up at me, his hands sliding up my thighs to grasp my hips. “What is it you do for a living?”
“I’m a dancer. I own my own studio and gym.”
“In the city?”
“Yeah, in the city.” I smile as his brows rise in surprise. I love being able to tell people that at the age of twenty-eight, I own my own business. Pride spreads through me.
“How long have you been in London?” he asks with genuine interest.