Grand Lies (The Promise Duet Book 1)

by JC Hawke

  Literal pools—he looks like he is about to cry.

  “Mason, I was joking. I’m on the pill.” I laugh, gingerly closing my legs.

  “Jesus! That’s not funny,” he huffs, dropping to the mattress beside me. “You’re on the pill?” he asks, repeating my words back to me.

  “Uh-huh.” I climb over him, straddling his waist daringly as I glare down at him. “Do I need to get checked?”

  His frown is instant. “Do I?” he asks defensively, flattening his hands on my thighs.

  I plant my hands on either side of his head, leaning over him. My hair creates a veil around us. “No. It’s been a while.”

  He perks up, pinching a nipple between his fingers. “How long’s a while?”

  I shrug, bringing my lips to his. “A couple months.”

  “A couple months?” he repeats.

  I shrug again, darting my tongue out to lick along the seam of his lips. “Maybe a year.”

  “A year!” he pulls away, shocked.

  “I win, right?” I fake a smile.

  He swallows thickly, pushing my hair back from my face. “Yeah, you win.” He frowns, still staring intently into my eyes. “I’m clean. I get checked regularly, and I always wear a condom.”

  “Always?” I pop a brow.

  “No, Nina, always,” he stresses.

  I roll my lips as I contemplate asking the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.

  “Out with it,” he probes, squeezing my thighs.

  “You get checked regularly...because you have sex…”

  “Regularly?” he finishes for me, and I have to force a fractured smile to my lips.

  Of course, he has lots of sex—the man screams sex. It oozes from every inch of him, from the way he dresses to that carnal smile.

  Mason rolls us, placing me on my side to face him. My legs wrap around him as his body falls flush with mine. His heavy eyes search my face as if trying to figure something out.

  He looks shattered.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  His hand disappears under my shirt, lazily skimming my side. “Nearly morning.”

  “You sort everything with your… Scar?”

  His eyes bore into mine. Sharp; protective. “Yes.”

  I nod my head, chewing the inside of my cheek.

  He doesn’t want to tell me. I get it. He hardly knows me. But what he refuses to say with his words screams at me in the depths of his eyes. Pain. It lurks in the shallows of his stare, craving the unknown.

  We may not know much about each other, but I’m quickly learning. Elliot knows him well—Charlie too. And they wanted me to be here for him tonight. I may not know why, but I genuinely believe that I should be here. That maybe this man needs somebody. Maybe for the first time in my life, I want to be more than Nina Anderson, the dancer, best friend to Lucy and Megan, and daughter of an alcoholic mother.

  Maybe I could let just one more in.

  “You need to sleep,” I tell him, smoothing out the deep lines in his forehead with my thumb. He lifts his head, nuzzling my palm before gently kissing it.

  His head lies heavily in my hand, our bodies intertwined as one as he smiles warmly at me, swiftly drifting into the darkness.

  I envy his ability to sleep so soundly as I lie awake watching him, waiting for sleep to carry me away from my own demons.

  The bed is empty when I wake only a few hours later, and I allow myself to lie in the quiet confinement of the bedroom before I go in search of him.

  I feel surprisingly good considering the amount of alcohol I drank last night. My head feels clear, and what I feared might happen after spending the night with Mason hasn’t happened. I don’t feel dirty, or shameful, or like I want to run for the hills. Mason is consuming. He enters the room, and I can barely focus on anything else, which should scare me, but it doesn’t. Because once he leaves and I’m all alone again, I don’t feel any less of a person. I feel valued. Seen.

  Lifting my arms above my head, I stretch out my deliciously sore limbs, my body humming with arousal as I’m reminded of him sliding in behind me in the early hours of the morning.

  Where are you, Mase?

  Pulling back the covers, I creep to the door then poke my head out into the hallway. Silence. Satisfied I won’t get caught, I take off down the stairs in only Mason’s shirt, heading for the kitchen for a glass of water. My mouth waters the closer I get, the smell of bacon assaulting me. I feel famished.

  “Good morning,” Lance sings, bright-eyed as he stands at the hob tending to what I presume is the bacon.

  “Umm, morning,” I say on autopilot, immediately wishing I’d stayed up in the room.

  His eyes drop down my body, and I pull at the hem of my shirt, wishing it were longer. “Breakfast?” he asks.

  “Where’s Mason?”

  He smiles wide. All teeth. Fake. “Probably out, making a million.” He winks.

  “It’s a Saturday?”

  “Yep.” He continues to turn the bacon. “Did you make sure to shag his brains out?” He eyes me, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

  “Excuse me?” I ask at the same time that keys clatter in the foyer.

  I stand waiting for Lance to explain, but he doesn’t. His eyes skirt over my shoulder just before warm hands encase my waist.

  I close my eyes as his minty breath tickles at the skin just below my ear.

  “Clothes. Now, Nina.” Mason says, voice scratchy and rough as he squeezes my hips.

  I turn my head into him, his lips finding my temple. He stands topless at my back, his long torso ripped with muscle and wet with sweat. I drop my eyes lower, finding his shorts sitting low on his hips. Boy oh boy. “Come with me?” I ask.

  He licks his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth. “Later, I have a houseful to kick out first.”

  He steps away from me, and I quickly exit the kitchen when he moves to open the fridge.

  I take the stairs two at a time, heading straight for the safety of the girls’ room. I push inside, finding them awake and sitting up in the large bed. Stepping up onto the ottoman, I make my way up the middle, sinking down between my two pillars of strength.

  “You seem troubled, girl,” Lucy says. “Hungover?”

  I shake my head, my mind in overdrive. “What do you guys make of Lance?” I ask, still stuck on his comment from before.

  “He’s hot!” Megan chuckles. “That beard he has going on.”

  I smile as she drives the heaviness away. “I think he heard us last night, talking about Mase. He just mentioned it in the kitchen.”

  “Heard what?” Lucy frowns.

  “About shagging his brains out. You mentioned a proposal too.” I smirk over at her. “I don’t think he likes me.”

  “Why, because he thinks you want to marry Mason Lowell? I mean, is he blind? I don’t think there is a girl on earth who wouldn’t want to marry him.”

  “True,” I laugh. “Maybe I’m reading too much into it.”

  “Probably,” Lucy mutters, dropping her head to rest against mine.

  “I need food,” Megan groans, and just as she says it, the door flies open, and Elliot saunters in.

  “Good morning, beautiful girls.” He stands in only a pair of white boxer briefs, holding a tray of food.

  The man’s godly, and he knows it.

  “Thank you, Jesus.” Lucy smiles up at the ceiling.

  “Come here, big boy. Mumma wants some of what you got,” Megan says, grabbing the tray when he gets close enough and pulling it to her lap.

  Elliot steals a piece of toast before Megan can inhale it all, then leans across our legs to pass it to Luce. I snatch some for myself.

  We sit in silence, devouring the buttery pieces of heaven.

  “You can go again now.” Megan grins up at Elliot.

  “You just want to look at my arse,” he laughs, stealing the last piece before turning for the door. I shake my head after the cocky bastard.

  Megan’s elbo
w shoots out and into my ribs and I look to her with a frown.

  She nods over at Lucy who sits, licking her lips as she watches Elliot’s retreating back.

  “Good toast, huh, Luce?”

  She snaps her eyes away, blinking rapidly as her cheeks turn crimson. “Piss off.” She smiles. “That man is far too easy on the eye—we all know that. He should be in a museum. Mute. He’s the epitome of look but don’t touch.”

  “Amen to that sister,” Megan agrees.

  Everything falls quiet, and I close my eyes, enjoying the peacefulness.

  “Nina, you’re not holding out on us, are you?” Megan pipes up, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

  I burrow into the bed, hiding beneath the covers, but they are ripped from my grip, expectant faces glaring down at me. “Later girls, we’ve already established how big Lance’s ears are,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Yes, good point.” Megan nods. “Another good point…” Here we go. “Mason is seriously packing. I had that all up in my face last night, so I’m pretty certain, but can you confirm or deny?”

  I laugh as I think back to the club, the girls listening outside the door. I look between them, my smile wide. “Confirmative girls. It’s an earth-shattering, toe-curling, confirmative.”

  We all sigh.

  We shower and dress, then go in search of the boys. We find them in the lounge, scattered around the sectional sofas. Lance and Charlie are dressed, but Elliot is still gloriously naked in only a pair of boxers - not a care in the world.

  My eyes lock on Mason. He sits in the corner of the room fresh from a shower, dressed in a tight white T-shirt and black jeans. He takes me in, his eyes roaming my body. I do a little two-step as my stomach knots. I want to rush him, demand he takes me back to bed for the day. He raises a brow as if challenging me to voice my thoughts. He can read me too well.

  I don’t want to go home.

  “Everyone out,” he states, his eyes stuck on me.

  “Fuck off, Lowell,” Elliot retorts, rooting himself deeper into the sofa, clearly too comfortable to move.

  “I’ll call a taxi. Do you girls need one?” Charlie asks.

  “Yes, please,” I reply.

  “No, not you. We have our date,” Mason says, running his tongue along the front of his teeth. He comes to stand beside me, blocking my view from the others. I frown as I look around him, all of them standing to leave.

  “Our date isn’t until seven thirty. I need to go home and get some fresh clothes.”

  “You don’t need any clothes, and it’s gone seven thirty, so technically we are late.” He gives me a boyish grin, and I relax a little.

  “This evening, Mason. I’m going home to change first.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  Lucy gives me a wave as she starts to leave the room, and I shake my head at her. Is she really going to abandon me with this demanding ass?

  “I will call you, babes!” she states, disappearing with everyone else into the elevator.

  “You’re infuriating,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

  His lip tips up at the corner, eating away at my defensiveness. Damn it. Why is he so hot?

  “What would you have done today? If you’d have gone home?” he asks, his voice softer now.

  “I don’t know, got myself prepared for this evening, caught up on some sleep.” I look at him as if that’s his problem. “Try and find something to wear.”

  “Sleep first then.” He nods towards the stairs. “Back to bed.”

  I hesitate, unsure of his motive. “I could just go home and sleep.” But I want to stay. “Are you coming with me?”

  “You could go home, and you can, but then I will have to come and pick you up again later and that seems pointless.” He steps closer. Pulls me closer. “And no, I have things to attend to today. I will be back in time for our date.”

  “You’re leaving me here?”

  “I won’t be gone long. Get some sleep.” He leans in, placing a tender kiss on my forehead. It’s sweet. A softer side of him that I’ve only had small glimpses of shining through.

  Then he ruins it. I squirm as he pulls away, pinching my nipple through the white fabric of my dress. “I could see these from the other side of the room. Elliot was looking too.” He scowls, and it’s all sorts of adorable.

  “Ouch! Elliot didn’t even know we were here.” I lean away, using my hands to protect my sensitive buds.

  “Montgomery doesn’t miss a set of tits, especially not those.” He eyes my chest, walking backwards away from me.

  “I totally noticed,” Elliot groans, reminding me he is still buried in the sofa. He stands, grabbing his clothes and throwing me a wink as he starts dressing.

  “Don’t leave me here,” I call out to Mason.

  “You’ll be fine, Pi—” His eyes tighten and he pauses. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

  And then he is gone, with Elliot not far behind him.

  Mase

  Am I mad to leave her alone in my home?

  I suppose this is one way to test her. Does that make me an ass? I’ve not let a woman sleep in my bed since Cara. I thought I could trust her, but what a piece of work she turned out to be. She was my hardest lesson learnt when it came to the dos and don’ts of casual sex. I should check in on her, make sure she is sticking to our agreement.

  The thought of Nina in my home, amongst my things—it shouldn’t feel so right. Something tells me I can trust her, and maybe that makes me a fool, but the primal need to protect her, to fuck her, keep her close, is overwhelming. I didn’t even use a condom.

  What was I thinking?

  She is fast becoming my only thought, and that’s a dangerous thing, and the fact I’m about to go shopping on a Saturday in central London should tell me all I need to know on the matter.

  I sit in my car, considering where I should go. I know what I need. I just don’t know where to start.

  I hesitate as my thumb hovers over the contact. Fuck it. I hit call and put the phone to my ear.

  “Mr Lowell?”

  “Alice, I need your help.”

  Nina

  I sit on the sofa scrolling through the channels but not paying any mind to what’s on the screen. It’s becoming clear that I don’t like being in this place alone. Maybe it’s because of the first time I was here, or maybe it’s because it’s so big.

  Does Mason feel the same way? Being here alone all the time must be awful. What does he do in his spare time? What do you think, stupid? God, he even told me he has sex ‘regularly’. Who brings that shit up straight after sex? How embarrassing.

  After getting fed up with the TV, I start to wander around the penthouse. He told me to make myself at home, but it seemed like a rude thing to do.

  Boredom won out in the end, and that’s on him. He shouldn’t make me wait.

  The rooms are all beautifully decorated, and I’m sure someone has spent hours making it look magazine-worthy. Yet there isn’t anything personal—no photos on the walls. No mess. You wouldn’t know it’s lived in. Like the kitchen, it’s equipped with top of the range appliances, but they look unused.

  I come to the only door left at the end of the hall, the one that sits between the gym room and entertainment room.

  The catch clicks as I test the handle, and I feel a wave of excitement rush through me. I feel like I’m doing something wrong when I’m not.

  Pushing open the door, I find an office.

  It’s smaller than I’d expect in comparison to the other rooms. A desk sits in the centre with shelves lining the entire left wall. Some sit empty, and some are filled with books and photos.

  I lift a picture frame and smile wide at the image. Charlie, Elliot, Lance and Mason. They sit on the back of a yacht, legs dangling into the infinite blue ocean that lies calm beneath them as the sun sets in the distance.

  All four men are completely different in their individual styles and personalities—all equally as hot—it
makes me wonder how they met. Lance, although he seems friendly, still confuses me. He’s made it clear that he is just as unsure of me as I am him.

  Elliot I can’t even take seriously enough to figure out. And Charlie seems to be the most complex of them all. He seems so closed off yet always aware and watching, he shows a soft side towards me and the girls, and it’s not forced or fake when he asks you a question, he genuinely wants to know.

  My eyes find Mason in the picture, the only one I want to understand. I feel like I have so much still to learn about him. I have seen his temper, a switch that goes from a tender sweet man to a dark, brooding beast with little influence. First with his altercation with Joey, then last night when he left to see Scar, and when he came to me at the gym—always so quick on the defence.

  Other than his unreasonable, possessive attitude towards me and his need to get his way in every situation so far, I’d say he hides his emotions well. He doesn’t say much with his words. But those moments when we are alone, just the two of us, I see a different man. A tender man.

  I drop down into the desk chair and scan the contents. Sat off to the side is another photo, this one of a family, and the resemblance of the father and son uncanny. I reach for it, smoothing my fingers across the polished frame.

  This is Mason’s family. His foundations.

  They stand outside of a beautiful sprawling home, a tiny baby in the arms of the mother, a young boy standing at his father’s feet, proud hands placed on his son’s shoulders.

  My heart aches as a wave of untamed jealousy floors me.

  What I would give to have a dad. A sibling. A mother who loved me more than herself. Mason may have lost his mother at a young age, but if even for just this one day, the day this photo was taken, the look in the woman’s eyes as she looks at her son, her hand rested on her husband’s forearm, a baby in her grasp. Even if for just that one moment they were happy, then he already had more from her than I’ll get in a lifetime from my mother. His father may stand proud—the man of the family—but his mother’s love visibly runs through each one of them like a thread, tying them all together with a simple look, the slightest touch.