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“Then what?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say again.
Mason shakes his head. “I’m not willing to accept that. We had a great night. We have a connection; you can’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. Since that first time we’ve been together, we have…a spark, for lack of a better word. Why are you pushing me away?”
“I don’t feel the same.”
It’s a lie. I feel the connection, too. He’s demanding and smoldering and I can see how much this hurts him. It shouldn’t hurt him. Or me. We don’t know each other.
But it feels like we’ve known each other forever. And walking away from this is going to be hard.
“Don’t tell me that,” Mason snaps. He’s getting angry, and that only pisses me off, too.
“Why not?” I demand. “Am I supposed to tell you I do to stroke your ego?”
“You feel something. I know you do. I’ve never felt so comfortable around someone. I’ve never been able to just talk to a woman. And you feel the same.” He challenges me, his eyes serious, his jaw set. He towers over me and his strength is intoxicating; the frustration that rolls off him in waves turns me on rather than scares me off.
I swallow hard. My emotions are at war. Everything he says is true. I feel that spark when I’m with him; it’s deeper and more real than I’ve felt in a long time. And we connect in a way I never thought I would find again.
“I can’t do this,” I say, shaking my head. Mason stopped trying to get a cab so I can’t leave, but I turn around and walk in a direction—any direction.
“What’s going on?” Mason asks, keeping up easily with long strides. He wrenches his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt like he can’t breathe otherwise.
“Nothing,” I say, but tears sting my eyes.
Why is it so hard to walk away from him?
He takes my hand and I stop. I try to glare at him but I start falling apart instead.
“We have a connection, I’ll admit it,” I say, forcing myself to sound angry. “But this will never work. You have all your big dreams and you have your big life and I…”
“What?” he asks when my voice trails off.
“I’m a single mom,” I blurt out. “My daughter is almost nine and being with me isn’t a party.”
Mason frowns. “I didn’t know. You didn’t say anything—”
“Of course, you can’t know. We don’t know anything about each other.”
“But that’s why I want to spend more time with you. I want to find out.”
I shake my head. “Another date turns into another and another and another, and before you know it, we like each other, and what then, Mason? How do we go from there? I can’t just casually date. I can’t do flings. I have to think about my daughter every step of the way. Besides, I’m a mess—”
He doesn’t let me finish my sentence. He grabs me and kisses me, cutting me off. At first, I’m rigid against him. But his lips are like butter and his hands are warm. He stands so close to me, leaning against him is the most natural thing in the world.
When he breaks the kiss, I’m out of breath.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“I didn’t want you to finish that statement,” he says simply. “So I stopped you.”
His eyes are so dark, they suck me in. One hand is still on my neck. He slides the other down my arm and to my hand.
“I don’t have a five-year plan,” he says. “But I do know what I want. And right now, I want you.”
He kisses me again, and I know I can’t say no to him. All night long, I was able to resist him, but that kiss set me on fire.
I have to think of Kylie. But a small voice at the back of my mind screams I also have to think of me. I have to do what I want, sometimes. Dianne has been trying to drill that into my mind for the last five years.
