Relentless (Mason Family 4)

The scent is heavenly—my favorite. I bring it to my nose and revel in the sweet, simple fragrance.

“It reminded me of you,” he says, his cheeks turning a shade similar to the flower.

“Because I blush all of the time?”

He chuckles. “No. But that’s true.” He waits as I set the rose on the table inside the door.

“I have a friend coming by who will put that in water for me,” I say, hoping Lisbeth overhears us.

He offers me his elbow. I take it.

“Back to the rose,” I say as we make our way to his car. “It reminded you of me how?”

“Ah, yes. The rose. It reminded me of you because it was elegant and sweet yet it had a richness to it that made me want to touch it.”

We stop at the passenger’s side door. Instead of opening it, he turns to me. His eyes twinkle with mischief.

I hold my breath as his hand reaches my cheek.

“I have a feeling,” he says, stepping closer to me, “that it’s going to be a long night.”

“Okay.”

“And I would like to kiss you now instead of just when I drop you off so I don’t think about it all night.” He grins. “Would that be okay with you?”

My knees go weak as I watch this handsome man appear to be smitten with me.

What is happening in my life?

“I think it would be helpful to both of us,” I whisper.

His grin is immediate and ravishing. He cups the other side of my face in his other hand and lowers his mouth to mine.

This kiss is slow, unrushed. It’s sweet, chaste. But the vibrations rippling off his body—the way he stands with each foot on the opposite side of me—gives off a completely different energy.

It’s a vibe I’m dying to explore.

He pulls away and opens the door.

Still breathless, I climb in the seat. Before he can close me in, I reach out and grab the end of his tie.

He grins. A glimmer of roguery is sprinkled across his features.

Gosh, he’s handsome.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I say, smiling coquettishly.

His breath is sweet, tinged with peppermint, as he drags his face closer to mine. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m always happy to come, Mr. Mason.” My heartbeat thunders in my ears. But I continue, emboldened by the look of pure desire in his eyes. “Just thought I’d throw that out there.”

He licks his lips but pulls away. A look of pure surprise washes across his face. It melts before my very eyes into a war of self-control versus unbridled desire.

It’s so wickedly hot.

My own lips part so I can get fresh air and not pass out.

I don’t know who I am with this behavior. It’s not me. But … I kind of like it. It feels powerful.

“I’m going to close this door before I throw you out of this car and make you prove yourself.” His eyes hood. “You’ll thank me later.”

I don’t respond, but I don’t think I have to. Everything I want to say is written on my face.

And if everything he has to say is written across his. Tonight should be a lot of fun indeed.

Twenty-One

Shaye

“I’ll be in touch. It was good to see you, Harris.” Oliver shakes hands with the distinguished-looking gentleman to his left. “Vivian—as always.”

The woman nods politely at my date. She must be my mother’s age, maybe a tad older, but is downright regal. Everything from her dress to her posture to her perfectly timed interjections in her husband’s conversation with Oliver is admirable.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Shaye,” Vivian says, smiling warmly. “Thank you for joining us this evening.”

“The pleasure is truly mine, Mrs. Landry,” I say.

She takes her husband’s elbow and gives it a pat. “Let’s see if we can find Graham, darling.”

Oliver turns to me. His eyes are a mix of liveliness and ease.

“What?” he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist. It’s a natural movement, a gesture that anyone watching would think that he’s done a thousand times. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The gala, now in its second hour, is in full-blown revelry. Servers mingle with the guests holding trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres like Nate warned me about. A band, complete with a saxophone, plays upbeat music that fills the air with festivity. Laughter from various groups of sophisticated men and women fills in any gaps.

“What’s not to love?” I ask, declining a fresh glass of champagne from a server. The two drinks I’ve had already plus the one in my hand are enough to take the edge off my nerves.

Oliver’s fingers press against the exposed skin on my back. The contact sends a chill up my spine.

“Do you go to things like this often?” I ask him.

“Like this?” He chuckles. “No. There aren’t many events like this.” He takes a sip of his champagne and looks around the room. “This room is filled with some of the most powerful men and women in the country. See the man smoking a cigar near the ice sculpture?”