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He moved toward me again, and even though I refused to give ground, he kept on coming until our chests brushed together and I took two steps back. My heels thunked against the door, and my back hit it a second later, but Mason didn’t stop coming.
Our bodies were practically flush against each other as he tilted his head down to stare at me. I had to lift my chin uncomfortably to meet his gaze, and I could feel his body trembling through all the places we touched.
“What if I am, Princess? What if I am a monster?” His voice had dropped to match mine, becoming a low, dangerous purr. His green eyes softened—the kind of softness I hated, the kind he used as a shield when he allowed himself to be abjectly cruel. “If I’m already lost, shouldn’t I try to save the people I care about while I still I can?”
I was trapped between him and the door, rendered completely immobile. My hands slipped between us to rest against his chest, but instead of shoving, I just left them there, absorbing the heavy, dull thud of his heart with my palm.
“You’re not a monster,” I whispered. “I can see you, and you’re not.”
A low noise sounded in his throat. His heart pounded against me like it was looking for an escape, but there was no escape for either of us at this point.
My fingers dug into his chest, and I shook my head. “And you can’t save everyone, Mason. You just can’t.”
For a moment, his face crumpled.
It was as if every mask he’d ever worn was stripped away. The pure, unfiltered truth of who this boy was washed over me as grief, confusion, and helpless rage flowed across his features.
Then he grabbed my face in both hands and kissed me.
Chapter 14
My body jerked at the sudden onslaught of sensations, and I unconsciously fisted Mason’s shirt with both hands as I tried to keep my head above water in the rising tidal wave of his kiss.
He kissed me like he was trying to find salvation between my lips… or he was trying to drag me down to hell with him.
And maybe there was a little bit of a monster in both of us, because wherever he went, wherever his soul ended up, I wanted to go there too.
The last time I had kissed Mason, truly kissed him, had been in the ocean on my seventeenth birthday. In that kiss, we had walked the delicate line between love and hate.
In this kiss, we redrew the line completely.
His hands were on either side of my head, and his fingers dug into my hair as his lips attacked mine with desperate need. His tongue swept my mouth, and mine clashed with every stroke, forcing his aside to delve into his mouth. It felt like we were trying to devour each other alive, to be the first to consume the other person completely, to take in their entire essence.
That was what I wanted. Nothing more or less than every single thing that was Mason Van Buren.
I wanted every fucked up piece and every beautiful piece. I wanted to take them all, complete the puzzle, and then make him look at it—make him see the parts of himself he refused to acknowledge or had forgotten existed altogether.
His large body was still pinning me to the door, his hands controlling the movement of my head as he angled the kiss to bring it deeper. All I had free were my hands and arms, and I finally released my grip on his shirt to rake my fingernails over the sculpted terrain of his shoulders, bracing against the door with my back to push against his body.
I wanted freedom of motion, wanted the space to touch him everywhere.
To touch what I own.
Heat flooded my veins at the thought, and I pushed harder, tweaking a muscle in my ankle again.
I gasped into his mouth, and whether he knew what had caused the noise or not, he reacted instantly, stepping back and releasing me from the heavy wooden door.
He didn’t let go of my head though, as if he was afraid he’d lose me if he stopped holding on so tight. I pushed again, and he moved backward at my urging this time, tugging me with him as we stumbled awkwardly through the small apartment toward the bedroom.
Mason almost crashed into the wall, and I pulled him sideways into the open space of the doorway, still kissing him wildly, still running my hands over every inch of his body I could reach.
My fingertips found the hem of his shirt just as we made it into the bedroom, and the second they slipped underneath and met bare skin, Mason groaned into my mouth, as if just that small touch had almost undone him. He pulled off my uniform blazer with a sharp movement. Then his arms wrapped tightly around me, and the next thing I knew, he was lifting me, carrying me the last few steps to the bed before dropping me on the soft mattress and following me down.
His body covered mine like it belonged there, like it had never been meant to be anywhere else, and he ground his hips into me, making slick wetness dampen my panties. He was moving against me, and I was writhing beneath him, the motions desperate and almost violent as we tried to press our bodies together in more places, to touch everywhere, to satisfy the need that threaded between us like jagged bolts of lightning.
His movements were jerky and uncoordinated as he tore at my uniform, loosening my tie before giving up on it and moving down to my buttons, undoing several before grabbing both sides of the fabric and ripping them apart. His head dipped to taste the skin of my breasts as I shoved his blazer off his shoulders.
As soon as it was off, I tried to work on his shirt, but I couldn’t focus with his mouth on me, trailing fire across my skin. As his lips, tongue, and teeth worked on the soft flesh of my breasts, nudging my bra down to get better access, he slipped one hand under my skirt, finding the spot between my legs and making me buck against him.
