“Jealousy? That is somethin’ I’ve never felt before. This isn’t jealousy, Whitley.” My fingers trail over his tattoos, caressing the skull with the blue flames blazing from its eyes. I trace each letter of the words Soulless Bastards before Mason’s hand snaps up to capture my wrist. Jerking my eyes up to his, he’s damn near on fire. A slow burning inferno creeps its way to the surface and ignites between us.
“What is it then?” I ask before I swallow hard.
“You remind me of a past that I can never get back. Every time you look at me, there’s a flicker of hope. I don’t fuckin’ know why I see it in you. I didn’t see it before until it was too late,” he says as his voice cracks with emotion. I slip my free hand up his chest and rest it on the side of his neck.
“Whatever you think you see in me, you’re wrong Mason. There is nothing in me. Nothing, Mason. I lost it all a very long time ago.”
Shaking his head, he lowers it until his forehead is resting against mine. He breathes me in. “You’re wrong. I saw it that night in the alley. I saw it in the bar, and I see it now. Every goddamn time I look at you, it’s there. It’s like a fuckin’ flashin’ light tellin’ me I need to walk away before I ruin you too.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, I press myself up and merge our lips. I kiss him roughly before his fingers release my wrist. My hands snake around his shoulders, as his go around my waist. Whatever this is between us, it’s hot as hell, but also very scary.
Chapter 11
Mason
She reminds me of Briann. She looks at life like there isn’t anything more out there for her. That’s how Briann was at the end. She didn’t believe in anything anymore. It scares me to see that in Whit. She’s vibrant and outgoing, but she doesn’t see it. She sees a past that she can’t change and a future that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve always been good at reading people, and even I couldn’t predict what Briann had planned.
It’s been two days. Two days of the most intense sex I’ve ever had. Whit has been her normal quirky self that I’ve come to know, but there is more to her than she lets anyone see. I want to see it.
“Just stay by my side and don’t say shit unless they talk to you first. They’ll eye you like a piece of meat,” I warn her. Whit just nods and keeps her eyes forward. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was nervous. I reach over and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her body against mine. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “No one is gonna touch you but me. If you feel cornered you tell me, yeah?”
Whit swallows hard as the doors to the warehouse open. Men start filing in, but I don’t look away from her. I’m still waiting for her to answer me. When she doesn’t, I shake her a little. Her eyes come to meet mine, and I see a new fear in them. I wasn’t expecting that from her.
“I got it. I’ll tell you. I’ll be fine. Just handle your business.”
As I glance up I see Armando heading toward us. His eyes fall on Whitley. She’s wearing little denim shorts, a tank top that barely covers her, and combat boots. I can’t say that I don’t like the view myself. I can see just the right amount of skin to keep me curious and keep my cock hard as a fucking rock. I find myself intrigued by her colorful tattoos as well.
“Mason, it’s good to see you again,” Armando says while extending his hand. I take it in mine, but his eyes never leave Whit.
“Stop eyein’ my piece of ass. We have business to discuss,” I remind him. His gaze snaps to mine as a smirk slowly crosses his face.
“Yours? Since when do you have a woman? As I recall, you’ve never brought a woman to a meet,” he comments. Pulling my hand free, I put it back around Whitley’s waist.
“Well, I did today. We need to talk. Viking wants a ten percent drop in your fees. Your Port Authority shit is getting’ to be a problem,” I tell him. Armando nods his head before slipping his gaze back to Whitley’s.