Page 65 of Fallen Hero

“Mase—”

“Or was it you brushing your fingers over my lips? Or was it your sweet kiss? Because, baby, that wasn’t a mistake. It was pure fucking torture, but trust me, I know a mistake when I make one, and that sure as fuck was no mistake.”

I felt my face heat.

Torture?

It was that bad?

Fuck Tom and his op. Screw Jason Anderson, I’d find another way to take him down. I needed to leave. I could be in London in ten hours. Far away from Mason and my horrible kiss.

“Jesus. What the hell is going on in your head?”

“Nothing. I apologized last night, but that was before I knew it was torture. So I say it again, I’m really sorry.”

I moved quickly to get around Mason. He moved quicker and grabbed me by my upper arm and hauled me to his chest.

“What’s happening right now?” he asked.

“Nothing. I want to—”

“Explain to me what’s going on.”

“Let me go.”

Instead of doing what I’d asked, he studied me in his Mason way. Meaning I had his full, undivided attention and his eyes were roaming my face. When they landed on mine, I knew I was in trouble.

“I see you misunderstood what I said. So let me rectify that.”

No way in hell I wanted him to rectify anything.

“Let me go,” I repeated.

He again ignored my demand and doubled down, tightening his hand around my bicep and pulling me closer.

“I told you most of the story last night, but I didn’t tell you everything. That being, I haven’t slept with a woman in ten years.”

“I could guess that when you were clear on all of those women being nothing but—”

“No, Calli. I haven’t fucked a woman in ten years.”

I felt myself blinking—rapidly. I opened my mouth to say something but snapped it closed. When I reopened it, still nothing.

I tried again, and this time words came out. Unfortunately, they weren’t very eloquent. “Um. What?”

“You heard me.”

“How’s that possible? I mean, I know how. But, um, why?”

“A smart man reevaluates his life choices when some rando tracks him down to tell him she’s pregnant.”

Mason has a child? Tom didn’t include that in his dossier.

“You—”

“No. But for seven months until the baby was born, I was sweating bullets. Me and three other guys had to submit DNA for the who’s-the-daddy lottery drawing. The kid wasn’t mine, but it was the reality check I needed. Condoms break, and then I’d be stuck with a baby mama I didn’t remember banging. But worse, my kid would be the result of a meaningless orgasm that, for me, had long ago stopped feeling all that great. After that scare, I haven’t touched a woman.”

Ten years. No sex.