by JC Hawke
Classy, I know.
I am out of breath as I lug my suitcase behind me, praying we make it to our gate on time. We would have been here early if Lucy didn’t decide to try a new colour. She now has bright pink hair instead of pastel pink. She FaceTimed Scarlet and gave her an earful about how she followed her directions, and it hadn’t worked. She was mortified and now has a cap pulled over the bright roots. It will fade in the sun—we hope.
The girls veer off as we pass our gate.
“Girls!” I yell, looking between the gate and then back to the direction they are running. I stand panting and out of breath, a sharp pain shooting through my gut. I haven’t had a stitch in years.
Serves me right running on a stomach full of prosecco.
I take off after them, yelling for them to slow down.
“Come on, sugar tits. You don’t want to keep them waiting,” Megan quips.
“Them? Guys, we’ve missed the gate.”
They chuckle to each other as if that’s the funniest thing they have ever heard. It gives me a chance to catch up with them.
The corridor opens up, and we come to a lounge area. It’s over-the-top luxury and filled with five faces I was not expecting to see.
Mase approaches me, his hand going to my waist.
His lip twitches. “Happy holiday, Pix.”
The cocky bastard.
Lucy stops beside us. “Surprise!”
“Tell me I didn’t just give him world-class going away head when he is coming with me?”
33
Nina
They were all in on it: Charlie, Elliot, Lance, Scarlet and the girls. Was I the only one who didn’t know? I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. As much as I want to get away with everyone, what I wanted and needed was a girls’ trip.
Mase hasn’t stopped smirking at me the entire flight—and it’s a long one. Spain turned out to be a decoy and we are currently on our way to Bora Bora on the company’s private plane.
He thinks he’s hilarious, and he kind of is. He got me on my knees with his sulking, and it didn’t take a lot. I give myself a mental slap for being so stupid. As if he would be so chilled with me leaving him for a week.
“You’re glaring,” Elliot mutters in my ear.
He steps around me and drops into the empty seat next to me.
“Why does he have to look so smug? And why was I the only one who didn’t know? It’s Lucy’s birthday. She is the one who should have been surprised.” I’m moany and ungrateful, but I hate that they didn’t tell me.
“You would have come along if he asked?”
“Probably not, but still.”
“He’s trying to make it up to you; go with it.”
“Things would be so much easier if he didn’t have money.”
Elliot pops a brow at me. “Do you really believe that?”
I shrug, looking towards the girls who are standing at the bar. Lance is making them all cocktails.
“I don’t know. I just wish I didn’t feel like everything is in aid of something. He throws money at anything that doesn’t go his way.”
“Wouldn’t you? If you had enough money, would you not make sure the people around you were safe and secure?”
Is that how Mason sees it? Is that his only goal? Deep down in my gut I know he is a good person.
It’s why I’m still here.
“I suppose it depends who you have to step on to get that security.”
“You have to be ruthless in this game, Pix. You’d be surprised how many people only attach themselves to him for his money. I’ve had it my entire life, my parents, too.” His eyes move from Mason to the bar, and there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s Lucy who has drawn his attention.
She has her head thrown back, laughing freely. Her denim shorts sit high on her hips, and a black bralette scarlessly covers her chest. She looks hot.
“Why pink?” he remarks.
I drop my head back to the seat and laugh lightly. “She’s just trying something new. You don’t like it?”
He draws his head back to look at me. “It’s different.”
“I’m watching you, Montgomery.” I grin.
“Hey, you know nothing is going to happen there.”
“Why not? You’d be like… Barbie and Ken. You’re kinda perfect for each other.”
“Luce is the girl you marry. She’s not the type of girl you pick up on the weekend. I’m too young to get married, and she isn’t my type. At all.”
“Okay! There is so much wrong with what you just said. Firstly.” I hold up one finger. “You’re the same age as Mase, right? When is the right time to settle down?” I release a second finger. “Secondly, what is your type? If that’s not it.” I eye Lucy and her long, tanned legs. “Thirdly.” I snap my fingers, bringing his eyes back to me. Yeah, he likes what he sees. “The type of girl you pick up on the weekend? That was me, asshole. I was that girl. And because of you and your promise…”
He grins wide. “You’re not like the girls Mason used to pick up. Trust me. I didn’t even remember that promise until I met you.”
“Why did you pick me?” I ask, my fingernails digging into the armrest.
It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before, but now he’s mentioned it, I feel almost desperate to know why.
He starts checking off his fingers like I just had. “Hot. Not a psycho.” He shrugs, and we both laugh.
I don’t know why I expected anything else.
“Move it, Montgomery,” Mason demands, looking down at us curiously.
Elliot gives me a wink as he moves past me and over to the bar, where he throws his arm around Megan. I watch as Lucy’s eyes follow him. “Something is going on with those two.”
“Who?” Mason asks, draping his arm over my shoulder and bringing his lips to rest against my hair.
“Elliot and Luce.”
“No,” he says, sounding so sure. “Luce isn’t Elliot’s type.”
“Why?”
Elliot said the same thing, which is frustrating. Call it women’s intuition, but there’s definitely something there.
Mason sits square in his seat, stretching out his legs. “She just isn’t.”
“Is he gay?”
He seems to choke on air because the next moment, he is bent over trying to clear his airway and control his hysterics. I sit staring at him, unamused, waiting for him to calm himself.
“No, definitely not gay,” he tells me.
“Well, I can see it with them. I’m calling it.”
He sits up in his seat and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. “Let’s make this interesting.” I look around at our friends, but none of them are watching us. “How long?”
“How long what?” All I can think about is how long his cock is right now, pushed up against me.
“Get your head out the gutter. Lucy and Elliot.” He rearranges me on his lap, lining himself up perfectly. It’s just the right amount of friction.
“Mase,” I warn.
“How. Long?” He draws out the words as if he knows what they are doing to me.
“I don’t know.” I try to form a coherent thought. Luce told me she isn’t interested. It’s just a feeling I get with those two. “A year?”
“A year? Shit, I’ve got this in the bag.” He grins. “So, if in one year nothing has happened between them…” He eyes me warily, unsure. “You have to marry me.”
“What?” I go statue-still. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Completely.” He leans in, kissing my neck.
“No.”
“No?” He pulls away, putting distance between us.
“Absolutely not. Christ, I don’t even think I want to get married, let alone within the next decade.”
His eyes flick around my face, and then he swallows, his hands lingering on my thighs.
“Fuck,” he sniggers. “I should set you up with fucking Montgomery.” He lifts me and places me back in my se
at, then turns to look out the window.
Is he sulking?
“Mase? Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“It’s fine. Forget I said anything.”
“You’re mad at me.”
He looks back at me, his eyes softening some before his arm lifts for me to slip under. “No, not at you. Forget I said anything, okay?”
I slide into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. If he isn’t mad at me, then who?
We landed an hour ago, and if I wasn’t sure before, I’m certain of it now.
Mason is sulking.
We pull up to the villa, and the girls bounce in the seat next to me in excitement. I should feel the same, and I do, but I’m also trying to figure out what to say to Mason to make him understand my reasons. Marriage isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to think about before now. It came out of the blue, and I can’t help my gut reaction. I mean, he sold my studio a little over a month ago. At this point in our relationship, marriage doesn’t feel like the goal.
Trust. That’s my goal.
The girls rush through the door and start squealing in excitement. I squint, shielding the sun from my eyes as I smile up at Mason. He has his arm thrown over my shoulder, and I push up onto my toes to give him a dusting kiss.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
I leave him with the boys and follow the girls into the house.
The villa is breathtaking. It’s set on a private island with only two other homes inhabiting it—one of them being the Montgomerys’. It sits on the edge of the cliff and looks out across the infinite ocean. It’s like something from Lucy’s Pinterest board, only real.
It’s like a shack, but around fifty thousand times bigger and made up of wood and glass panels.
Lucy and Megan are standing in the living room I’ve just walked into. Their faces are just as awestruck as I imagine my own to be.
Wooden beams line the room, which opens up into a state-of-the-art kitchen. Megan takes my hand and pulls me away just as I head in that direction.
“Let’s pick rooms!” she squeals.
“How many are there?” Lucy starts to count the doors as we walk down the corridor and up the steps. This part of the house is set on two levels, and I spin, looking back down the hall where the ceiling opens up, letting the sun beam through four glass panels. This place is insane.
“Six,” Scarlet states, walking up behind us from a different direction with the boys. “Some of us will have to share.”
I try to look around her to see where they came from.
“You’ll have to bunk with me, princess.” Elliot throws his arm over Lucy’s shoulder, but she shrugs him off.
“Uh, no.” She looks offended, and I scoff at her. No sane women would kick Elliot Montgomery out of bed. “Megs, Scar? Looks like we are rearranging rooms,” she tells them, arching a brow and giving them a look that says ‘go the fuck along with it’.
“Add ‘and drinking cocktails’ and I’m down for whatever,” Megan says, already in full relaxation mode.
“You got it, girl.” Lucy winks.
“What’s the plan?” Scar turns, looking at her brother to take charge. “Are we going out tonight or eating here?”
“We can eat here tonight. Get settled, dinner is at eight.” His hand snakes around my waist, and I purse my lips as I look to Luce. “If you need anything. Any of you. Don’t come knocking.”
They all chuckle as he pulls me backwards and through a bedroom door.
“Ma—”
I squeal as he lifts me off my feet and chucks me onto the bed with ease. His top is pulled off over his head, and he is on me in a matter of seconds. “Don’t speak,” he tells me, hiking my legs up around his waist.
These moments with him are my favourite. We don’t need words because they only complicate the easiness that’s between us. The way we fit, it’s perfect. But the words we utter sometimes have a way of bending the corners, making us jagged pieces of the same puzzle.
I want to iron out the creases and make them fit. I just don’t want a marriage proposal, not yet, and maybe not a year from now either.
Mase
No.
That’s what she told me. No.
Marriage isn’t something I was interested in before Nina. It was never something I contemplated because I had never met someone who I wanted to share my life with.
Now I have, and she doesn’t want it.
I’ve had women throw themselves at me, giving anything for a date. Yet the woman I want to give my world to doesn’t want a part of it, or at least not yet.
She lies asleep in my arms, her head on my chest as her breath fans out over my heated skin. It’s ten to eight, and I know I need to wake her. I just don’t want to. Everything seems better with her locked tight in my arms.
“I’m coming in.” The door rattles and then a thud. “Guys, come on!” Megan, I think, shouts from the other side of the door.
Nina jolts awake, looking up at me and then to the door. “Time is it?”
“Almost eight,” I tell her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Nina! You have my strappy sandals. I want my strappy sandals.”
She grins up at me then slides from the bed. I watch as she walks naked around our room, her skin smooth and taut. She is fucking perfect. Dropping down to her knees, she unzips her suitcase, and I pull myself up the bed to watch her, grabbing a pillow and covering my semi.
She opens the door, and a hand reaches in to snatch the shoes. “Thank you. Filthy whore.”
She slams the door and spins, leaning back against it with her eyes gently closed.
I love that she doesn’t hide from me.
“I need to shower. Do I have time?” she asks.
“No. But I need a shower too, and guess what?”
She cocks her head to the side. “We are having a shower?”
“Come here.”
“Nuh-huh.” She holds up a finger as I rise to my knees. “We are showering, but separate.”
“That’s stupid,” I protest, dropping the pillow.
“Is it? We know what will happen if we shower together.” She eyes my growing length. “We will never make it to dinner.”
“Well…” I launch the pillow at her. “Put some damn clothes on then.” I stand, my erection only getting harder the more wound up I get.
“Walking around naked expecting me not to want it,” I mutter under my breath as I stalk into the bathroom.
Leaning into the shower, I turn on the spray and wait for it to warm up. She follows in behind me, sliding past and into the heat.
“You’re such a child when you don’t get your way, you know that?”
I step into her, taking her chin between my thumb and finger. “I always get my way.” My free hand finds the back of her knee, and I lift it, wrapping it around my waist and sliding home in one deep thrust. “Always,” I whisper against her lips.
She may have told me no, but the look in her eye tells me she knows.
She will marry me.
Even if I have to drag her down the aisle myself.
“Better late than never!” Elliot shouts as we walk across the decking hand in hand.
We cross the small path to the outside seating area. It’s spread out on the patio, and the area is littered with lights that Scarlet insisted would set the mood.
Pulling out a chair, I nod for Nina to sit. “So polite, Mr Lowell. Shame you didn’t remember your manners a half hour ago.” She smirks and my cock twitches. That’s the fourth time today. It’s either the heat or there is something wrong with me.
I lean down and whisper into her ear. “Careful, Pix. You know what that smile gets you.”
“It will fall off if you’re not careful, Lowell,” Lance shouts, making everyone laugh.
Silly prick isn’t wrong; I’ve been hard on her today.
We settle in and devour our meal. The food is exquisite and I make a mental note to see Hank later this evening. He’s been wi
th us since me and Scar were small, and I haven’t seen him since last year.
After our food, the girls start working their way through Lance’s famous cocktails. They are all light on their feet and giggling loud before long, and I watch them—Nina specifically—as she looks at something on Megan’s phone.
They have congregated around her and have their heads smashed together as they laugh at something on the screen.
“Give it back.” Nina laughs, leaning in to take the phone.
Lucy grabs it. “Holy shit, Nina.”
“Let me see.” Scar giggles. “Wow, you look incredible,” she tells Nina with wide eyes.
“Guys!” Nina blushes, and I frown.
I want what’s on that phone.
I stand. “Pass it to me.”
Megan looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Fuck off, asshole.” She laughs and carries on.
“Sit down, Lowell,” Lance calls from the other side of the table, a smirk on his face.
“Nina.” I jerk my head for her to come to me. She sticks her tongue in her cheek, holding the phone to her chest. “Come here.”
She shakes her head, grinning wide. “You come here,” she mouths.
I walk to her, needing to see what has caused her to blush. “I want to see,” I tell her, stepping up in front of her.
She passes me the phone, and I look down at the screen. My chest constricts as I take in the image. She is breathtaking. It’s a photo of her, the one she told me about. She is reaching for the camera, but it feels like she is reaching for me. Her dimple is gracing the side of her cheek, and her eyes are locked on the lens.
I look up at her, that same blush from before colouring her face.
“You’re beautiful, angel. You know that, don’t you?”
She looks past me at the boys behind. “Give me that.” She snatches the phone from my hand as I take her into my arms.
“When do you get the photos?” I ask, knowing they are important to her.
“I was supposed to get them this week. I should probably call Joey.”