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I shift my shoulders so I can face him. “Yeah. You’re a nice guy.”
“A nice guy?!” he echoes, clearly not taking it as a compliment.
Swinging one leg over his thighs and climbing into his lap, I tease him further. “You’re a total sweet, gooey, nice guy, Mason Westbrook. You might try to act hard on the outside, but that’s mainly all the hair gel you use. Underneath that strong hair gel, you’re soft and gooey. And you’re pretty, too.”
He growls, sounding absolutely nothing like a gooey, nice golden retriever. In one lightning fast, head-spinning maneuver, he tosses me on the couch. Before I can catch my breath, his fingers are tickling and poking at all my most ticklish and poke-ish spots. I wiggle and whine and fight back, until I’ve somehow got him pinned beneath me.Well, to be fair, I have a feeling he’sletting mepin him down.
I lean down in his face. “Admit it once and for all—you have a crush on me.”
“You fucking wish,” he shoots back, but I see the smallest hint of that boyish grin.
“I don’t believe you.” I challenge him. “Why were you staring at me like that at the bar last night then?”
When I say that, his expression softens and he’s pulling in a breath. “Truthfully?”
I cock my head to the side. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to lie to me,” I say with a snort.
I shriek when Mason abruptly flips us over so he’s on top again. “I was wondering how bad I’d get my ass kicked if I asked you to dance.”
“My brothers wouldn’t kick your ass over an innocent little dance,” I say with an eyeroll.
Mason’s voice drops to a low rumble, his lips brushing my ear. “It wouldn’t be an innocent dance, Karli.”
Holy shit.
My thighs clench instantly. “Oh…? What kind of dance would it be?”
His grin curls wickedly at the edges. “I’d drag you to a dark corner of the room. Then my hands and my lips would be all over you.” With one finger, he draws a slow line down the center of my chest, causing goosebumps to surface. “I’d turn you around and pull you up against me. So you could feel how hard I was for you.” He dips his head, sweeping his lips down the same path. “I’d grab hold of your hips to guide you, to grind you against me just how I like. Consequences be damned.”
My stomach does a dangerous little twirl. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
I gulp.
He stares down in my face. “You look like you might need a demonstration, Ms. Brighton.” His lips quirk.
“Yes, please.”
Wearing nothing but his boxers, Mason rolls to his feet. He grabs my hand, and pulls me off the couch, into his arms. I go willingly, dressed only in his T-shirt.
He situates us in the middle of the living room. Chest to chest, he wraps his strong arms around me and I melt from the inside out. As he sways us side to side, I can’t rein in the thoughts running loose in my head. This guy cannot be real. Mason has seen me at my lowest again and again. He’s seen all my defects, every flaw I’m hiding beneath the ‘pretty’ mask the world gets to see. And yet…he’s still here. Still awing me.
Scam!! This man is a scam!!my brain shouts.
Because there’s no way he’s this hot and this sweet and this good. There has to be a flaw somewhere, right? Right.
When he starts humming a familiar tune in my ear, I fall even deeper under his spell. I giggle quietly.“You like Lana Del Ray?”
“My sisters do.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, blame that one on your sisters, too.”
He frowns at me. “Well, it’s true.”
“Take some of the damn credit, Pretty Boy. You’re a nice guy. I like it.” A surge of color races up his neck. “You’re blushing. Ha!”
Mason growls. “Shut up.” He flips me around and yanks my ass up against his erection. Just like he said he would.
