Price of a Kiss Page 11

I stared down at my Harry Potter book in shock. Frowning, I took it slowly. After slipping it from his hand, I looked up. “What? You mean, you finished it? Already?”

  He nodded and actually blushed. “Sarah...she kept pestering me to read it to her. I think I missed a couple of homework assignments because we had to read it every free chance I had.” He breathed in a deep breath, lifting his shoulders. “So…what’s the name of the second one? The Secret Chamber, or something like that?”

  I sputtered and gaped down at the book in my hands, still stunned he’d actually read it. He was definitely turning out to be full of surprises. “It’s The Chamber of Secrets,” I corrected as I ran my thumb up the spine of The Sorcerer’s Stone. When I looked at him, I squinted suspiciously. “Did you really, really finish this already?”

  “Yes!” He sounded flustered and kind of embarrassed. “Do you want to quiz me about it, or do you want to give me the next book already?”

  My mouth popped open. “You want to read the next one?” A smirk knotted my lips. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Sarah wants to know what happens next.”

  “But you do too,” I taunted and leaned closer. “Admit it. You liked it.”

  He sent me a warning scowl. “Don’t even think about saying I told you so.”

  “Ha!” I crowed, shooting my hands into the air, one full of alcohol, the other full of Harry Potter. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! I so told you so.”

  “I see you’re one of those gracious, humble types of winners,” he said dryly, though his lips twitched with amusement.

  “This is so awesome,” I went on, totally ignoring him. “I created a Harry Potter fan. You know, if this keeps up, J.K. is going to have to give me a cut of her royalties. Don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re pushing it, Randall.”

  For a second, I blinked, wondering why the heck he’d called me Randall before it clicked into place. Oh, right. My new last name.

  Reese Randall, Reese Randall. Don’t forget it.

  “Whatever,” I rolled my eyes as I grinned. “This is still awesome. I can go get you book two right now if you really want it.”

  He frowned. “You carry Harry Potter books around with you to college keggers?”

  I lifted the volume he’d just given me and shook it in his face. “What? You do too.”

  He laughed. “Wow, you really are aiming to be the top recruiter of the year.”

  “You know it.” I grinned and tapped the dimple in his chin playfully with the edge of my book. “But seriously, my apartment is right above the garage, which is, like, twenty feet away from that back door, so…I can get it for you in two minutes tops.”

  Mason glanced at the back door. Then he turned to me, his eyes squinting with suspicion. “You’re staying above the Mercers’ garage?”

  “Yep, and I know what you’re thinking, but trust me. The place is super cool. It’s honestly like a mini apartment up there with a kitchenette, bedroom, bathroom, and living room. And the privacy is…awesome.” I had to sing the word awesome. “Eva is so jealous. She had no idea what kind of gem was on her property until I moved in. I swear, she’d probably kick me out and move in herself if her closet wasn’t twice the size of my entire bedroom.”

  “Hmm.” He looked utterly confounded. “Wow. I could tell you and Eva were close, but I had no idea her parents would let you move in.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry; I guess you didn’t realize Eva’s my cousin. Her mom, Aunt Mads, is my mom’s little sister.”

  Mason paled. “Yeah,” he drew out the word. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Okay, seriously,” I growled, suddenly dead sober. “Is there more to this thing between you and E. than you two are letting on?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, I just…no. Not at all. I was only worried the contention between her and me would bother you. I mean, you’re not going to stop talking to me now in loyalty to your cousin, are you?”

  I arched a suspicious eyebrow. “If I haven’t stopped by now because of her, then I’m probably not going to stop later either because of her.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Okay, good. It’s just…I know she doesn’t consider me to be from her…ilk. It’d be a shame if you jumped over that cliff with her.”

  Eva might’ve coaxed me into going all sandal. She might’ve talked me into getting a diamond jammed into my nose. But no one could talk me out of being friends with Mason Lowe, except maybe Mason Lowe.

  I sighed. “I may love my cousin to pieces and go all fashion crazy with her on occasion, but trust me, I do know how to be my own person. If I ever become as condescending as Eva Mercer, please shoot me, okay?”

  Mason’s expression was a little stiff, as if he didn’t believe me. But he nodded. “Okay.”

  I grinned. “Great. Now that we have that settled, wait right here. I’ll be back in a jiffy with your next book.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I had intended to dash up to my apartment by myself and return to Mason with the book, but when I glanced back and saw him following me out the back door and into the warm night, I gulped.

  “Or…you could just, you know, come with me,” I revised, pretty sure I didn’t want him to come with me at all.

  Mason. Alone with me in my apartment. The two together threw my breathing all out of whack and made Eva’s warning—don’t do it, don’t do it—whirl through my brain.

  He snorted. “Hey, you’re not leaving me in there by myself with fifty other Eva Mercers lurking about. I might be molested before you returned.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, my God. Drama much?” But really, I wasn’t all that certain he was joking.

  Did every drunk girl throw herself at him?

  Okay, that was a stupid question. If I were drunk right now and all my inhibitions went bye-bye into alcohol land, I’d be throwing myself at him.

  “Well, just don’t expect me to jump in front of you like some kind of human shield if any frisky females come flying out the shadows to ambush you for a freebie.”

  He chuckled as we started up the steps to my apartment. “I’ll be sure to toss you in front of me against your will, then.”

  “Ha, real funny, smart ass.” I paused to fiddle with my keys in the dark.

  To be perfectly honest, I was kind of glad to have him with me. There wasn’t a nightlight outside the doorway to my loft, and standing in the dark alone during one of Eva’s keggers didn’t sound appealing. What if some drunk Jeremy-wannabe stumbled across me and tried to get frisky?

  Mason was quiet as I fumbled, and I relished the sturdy, protective feel of his presence.

  “Here we go.” Finding the right key, I unlocked the door and pushed my way inside.

  I hadn’t thought to clean before leaving for the party. My place wasn’t a disaster by any means, but it looked well lived in. My Brit Lit book hung open on the coffee table. Yes, I was still in Dr. Janison’s class, and passing—whew. A throw blanket lay wadded on the couch. A handful of dishes were piled in the sink, and I’d yet to toss the empty latte cup I’d run out to get this morning for breakfast.

  Mason seemed to take everything in as he slowly wandered around the living room and kitchen space.

  Nodding, he murmured, “Yeah, I have to say, you were right. This is pretty awesome. I could live here with no problem.” He strolled toward the table in front of the window unit and snagged an apple from my fruit basket.

  I shook my head. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

  His eyes glittered with amusement as he sank his teeth in the apple’s pulp. “What? Resist your forbidden fruit? Hell no.” Then he winked as he chewed. “What do you think of them apples?”

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I think your pun is corny and pathetic.” And completely adorable.

  He laughed and took another massive bite. “So, where’s this book?”

  “In my room.” Hugging book one of the series to my chest, I left him ea
ting and dashed into my small sleeping nook. Flipping on the light, I tossed The Sorcerer’s Stone onto my unmade bed and knelt in front of the mini bookshelf set up under my window.

  Finding book number two almost immediately, I slid it free and stood. Whirling away to hurry back to Mason, I found him the doorway, still chewing slowly as he watched me.

  “Oh!” I yelped and skidded to a halt. “There you are.”

  Heat covered my body like a rash. I suddenly felt the presence of my full-size bed only three feet away as if it were a living thing, breathing hot air down the back of my neck to remind me of its existence. I pulled my hair into my hand only to let it go again. But the sensation remained. I think as long as Mason stood in my room, I’d be hyperaware of any available flat surface.

  “Do you…I mean…” I swallowed and took a breath. “You can take the entire series now if you’d like. That way you won’t have to wait between each book until I can get the next one to you.”

  “I don’t mind waiting.” His gaze was direct and meaningful. “In fact, I like building up the anticipation.”

  Whoa. Were we still talking about books?

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  As if completely oblivious to my growing arousal, Mason turned toward my dresser and examined all my personal effects on top. I felt exposed, probably more exposed than if I’d been standing in front of him naked. He smiled softly as he set his half-eaten apple down and picked up my favorite lotion.

  Knees turning to jelly as he flipped open the top and took a deep sniff, I could only watch as he glanced at me. “You wore this Friday.”

  No way in the world could my vocal chords work. I simply nodded.

  He turned the label and read it aloud. “Sweet Pea.” When his grin broadened, I thought I was going to pass out from hormone overdose. “So fitting.”

  Slowly, I reached out and slid it from his hand because watching him hold my lotion was doing wicked, evil, wonderful things to me. “I was thinking of getting a bottle for Sarah. Do you think she’d like this fragrance?”

  Mason frowned and shook his head. “Don’t you dare. This is your scent. It would be too weird to smell on my little sister.”

  After setting the Sweet Pea back on the dresser, I pushed my hair out of my face. “I guess I could get her some cucumber melon then. Or warm vanil—”

  He caught my hand when I lifted it to my hair again. “If your hair getting in your face bothers you that much, why don’t you ever tie it back?”

  Startled and pleased, I gaped up at him. “You know I never tie my hair back?”

  His nostrils flared as he leaned in to smell the Sweet Pea…off my skin. “I know you’re always pushing it out of your eyes.”

  My body went into a dazed kind of shock. In sensory overload, I scrambled to think properly. “I don’t know,” I said with a loose shrug. “Don’t…don’t you guys prefer long, flowing hair?”

  Mason caught a strand of my hair and ran it through his fingers. “I can’t speak for other guys, but, yeah, I guess I do like it long and flowing.” He glanced at me with a disappointed expression. “So…this is to attract a guy then? Anyone specific?”

  I flushed and ducked my face. “No. Not necessarily. I just…I personally think I look best this way.”

  He picked up another piece of hair that had been lying on my opposite shoulder. With both hands full on either side of my face, he almost appeared as if he were holding a pair of reins, about to bridle me in close to him.

  “Does this mean you’ll have caught your guy whenever you show up on campus someday with your hair in a ponytail?”

  I shot him a strange look. “Well, then I’ll have to keep his attention, so…probably not.”

  Mason gathered my locks at the back of my head as if preparing to put it into a ponytail. Once he had a hold of it all in one hand, he stroked a couple of knuckles down the side of my exposed jawline. “I don’t think you ever have to worry about what your hair looks like in order to attract a guy. You have too many other intriguing attributes to keep them interested.”

  My lips parted and my entire body throbbed. “Mason?” I said slowly, my voice timid. “What’re you doing?”

  “Something I probably shouldn’t.” His voice sounded hoarse and tender as he dipped his face and pressed his forehead against mine.

  I began to tremble. I don’t know if it was because of anticipation, utter excitement, dread, or outright fear. “If…if you shouldn’t, then…don’t.”

  A throaty whimper like a wounded cougar tore from his voice box. “Easier said than done.” With his fingers slipping through my hair, he curled his hand around to the back of my neck, urging my face up, probably to align me into position for a kiss. Then he whispered my name.

  God, the achy, husky way he said it was like a silken caress to every erogenous nerve in my body.

  “I think…I think it’d be best if you stopped.” My voice shook as badly as my limbs. But even as I spoke, my hormones cried out for him to continue.

  “Okay,” he said, but his breath continued to beat against my lips and his forehead remained tattooed to mine.

  I think an inch separated our mouths. I could sneeze and accidentally crush my lips against his. Damn it, why wasn’t my new nose ring making me sneeze?

  But no way was I going to purposely be the one to cross the line that seemed to be drawn in that inch of space. Crossing it would change everything. He tilted his head, keeping our brows attached, and shifted to the side, but he kept that inch secure between us.

  I knew he wanted to breech it as badly as I did. But the invisible barrier must’ve been stronger than both of our cravings. We feared what the change would bring.

  His palm flattened on my neck, and when his touch slid over my scar, he frowned and paused. His eyes questioned me before he turned me around and gathered my hair out of the way to examine the nasty gash.

  Feeling bare as a light breeze washed across my nape, I closed my eyes and tightened my fingers around the book I was holding. “So you see, that’s why I don’t pull my hair up anymore.”

  His fingers were gentle as he touched the numb, deadened area. “This looks deep. What happened?”

  I licked my lips. “I was cut.”

  “I see that. What cut you?”

  “A knife.”

  Jeez. I’d already told him too much. If he asked anything else, I wasn’t sure what I’d say. My original lie was to tell people I’d gotten it in a small car crash. What was I supposed to come up with now?

  An urge bubbled inside me. I actually wanted to tell Mason the whole story. Everything. But the fewer who knew the truth, the better. And no matter how much he affected me, rationally I knew I hadn’t known him nearly long enough to trust him with a secret of this magnitude.

  “A knife,” he repeated. “Did it cut you on purpose?”

  “Maybe.” Definitely. And if I hadn’t whirled away to run from Jeremy any faster than I had, this scar wouldn’t have been on the back of my neck either. It would have been in the front, and I probably wouldn’t be standing here today.

  I shuddered, trying not to remember that night, trying not to relive the fear.

  As if sensing the panic that was clawing its way up my throat, Mason leaned forward and pressed his lips to the scar.

  I whimpered and closed my eyes, biting my lip to stop my chin from quivering. If I started crying now, that would be it. I’d forfeit everything.

  “If you don’t give away freebies,” I said, bracing myself to say what I needed to say to stop this from progressing further, “then are you going to charge me for that?”

  “No.” He kissed the spot again, his lips lingering over the area. I listened to him breathe in as he smelled my hair. It sent a shockwave of awareness down my spine and cramped the muscles low in my belly. I wanted this to last. I wanted him to spin me around and give me a real kiss.

  “It wasn’t mouth to mouth, so…no charge.”

  I turned to face him,
hating myself even before I continued. “So if you kissed me, say, on the breasts, that would be free since it’s not mouth to mouth?”

  His gaze turned hard. “No. That’s part of foreplay; it’s off limits.”

  “And what you just did isn’t foreplay?” I knew I was being cruel, but I also knew the fastest way to get him to retreat was to remind him of his profession. And he needed to retreat, because I was pretty sure I couldn’t.

  “That was a friend comforting another friend.” His eyes sparked with anger as he clenched his teeth.

  “I see.” With a nod, I asked, “So, you weren’t about to kiss me—mouth to mouth—just before you discovered my scar?”

  “Jesus,” he railed, swiping his hands through his hair and taking a big step back. “Yes, okay. I almost kissed you. But I didn’t. Mistake averted. No harm done. We’re good.”

  “Are we?” I charged.

  He stared at me, his mouth slightly fallen open. His expression looked wounded. “What’re you saying, Reese?”

  I closed my eyes and groaned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We can’t ever kiss or anything else because you sleep with women for money. End of story.”

  He rumbled out a sound of utter frustration. “Why do you always have to remind me of that? Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”

  “I’m not reminding you,” I snapped, flashing my eyes open to glare. “I’m reminding me.”

  God, I was such an idiot. I cannot believe I just stood there and pretty much confessed I cared about him as more than a friend, and the only thing holding me back was his…job.

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. They sparked with interest and joy. He took a step toward me.

  I darted a leery leap back. “We’re just friends, Mason.”

  He stopped in his tracks, turmoil swirling in his gaze. Then he closed his eyes. “Right.” When he opened them, the desire was gone. He reached out, tugged the book I’d forgotten I was still holding out of my arms, and waved it once. “Thanks for loaning this to me…friend.”

  Brushing my hair to one side, he tipped his head so he could lean around and kiss my scar one last time with a brief but warm peck. Once he straightened, he said nothing and barely held my gaze before he turned away and walked from my apartment.