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Ham’s screech is ear-piercing. "What the fucking fuck!" he shrieks. “You knocked out my tooth, you crazy asshole!”
He's got one hand cupped over his mouth, but the other is pointing to something. Sure enough, there's a bloody tooth on the sidewalk.
“Your tooth would still be in your mouth if you didn’t behave like a little bitch,” Mason spits. “I’d think very carefully about your next words because I won’t hesitate to throw punches until you’ve got none left.”
“Fuck this,” Ham wails. “I’m out of here!”
I cringe when I see some blood trickle down from beneath the hand he has over his mouth before he turns to run away. He races up the sidewalk to a jacked-up yellow truck parked at the curb, and the tires are so big he essentially has to throw himself into the driver's seat. The thunderous sound of the engine starting seems to shake the ground beneath me, and I watch wide-eyed as he peels out of the space, smoke coming from the tires as he guns it down the street, which causes the giant pair of fake testicles on the tow-hitch to swing back and forth.
As thrilled as I am to have seen the last of Ham Wood, I’ve got another issue now. Schooling my expression, I take a deep breath to center myself and turn to face the man I’ve had no luck getting over.
I swallow past the nervous lump that takes up residence in my throat when our eyes connect.
“Hello, angel.”
His voice is liquid sex, and his use of the endearment he called me during our relationship rocks me even more. I hate that all the weeks without seeing him have done nothing to alter the effect he has on me. The feral expression on his face sends my pulse racing, and my clit immediately begins to tingle with need.
It’s been less than five minutes since he strolled back into my life, and the resistance I thought I’d built up is nowhere to be found.
What the hell is wrong with me?
2
“I see you’re back,” I say, sounding like Captain Obvious. In my defense, I didn’t think he’d be returning to LA until next week.
“I got back late last night.”
“Oh. Did you, um, have a nice flight?”
Mason rakes his hands through his dark brown hair and looks at me with evident frustration. “Fuck the flight, Rory. We’ve got much bigger things to talk about. A fucking date? Really?”
My nerves are quickly replaced by annoyance.
He’s.
Got.
Balls.
In a roundabout way, it’s his fault I’m here. I wouldn’t have agreed to this stupid date if we hadn’t broken up eleven weeks ago—just before he left for Italy to be on the set of the new movie he’s directing for Garrett Riordan’s studio.
Mason’s clear frustration should not be a turn-on, but I’d be lying if I said the thought of climbing him like a rock wall at the gym isn’t an appealing idea right now. Reminding myself that we broke up for a good reason—albeit one I didn’t fully explain to him—I steel my resolve and take a deep breath.
“Am I not supposed to date?” I ask, my voice casual. “I didn’t get that memo.”
He growls low in his throat, which causes my nipples to tighten. The sound is not all that far off from the one he makes when he's about to come, and I know if I don’t control myself he’ll wind up realizing how affected I still am by him.
I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Don’t get all growly alpha with me, buddy. I don’t believe for one second that you really care about my dating life.”
His jaw clenches as he shakes his head emphatically. “Don’t ever doubt that I fucking care, angel.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. We ended things, so I can’t imagine why you think this concerns you one way or the other.”
“If you’d have answered any of my emails, you’d know why I think it concerns me,” he grumbles. “I tried calling and texting, but you changed your fucking number instead of picking up. We need to talk, so here I am.”
I’m flustered by the fact he was so determined to get to me. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to care at all. Knowing I need to remain aloof, I shrug as though I’m indifferent. “I distinctly remember telling you I wanted a clean break,” I remind him.
He frowns and stares at me in silence before he sighs and shakes his head. “And I distinctly remember telling you I was fucking confused about what was going on. You came out of nowhere with the whole I-don’t-think-we-should-see-each-other-anymore thing. I was caught off guard because I had no idea where any of that came from.”
“I don’t think rehashing the whole thing is necessary.”
“Well, I do, but I can see you’re not going to make this easy on me,” he says gruffly.
