Ex Games

“Is that your way of asking me whether I’ve slept with anyone since we started this arrangement?”

Ah. There was that smug tone I hadn’t heard in a whole day. Chewing my lip, I tried to sound blithe. “I’ll admit I’m curious.”

Fastening silver cufflinks, Mason turned to face me. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the day I came into your apartment. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t require sex every three hours.” A faint smile rose to his lips. “It’s also not my first time meeting you, Taylor. I’ve known you for three years, I know the level of respect you deserve and require, and I’m well aware that you’d be uncomfortable with the idea of playing my girlfriend while I slept with other women. And considering your issues with me thus far have already been plentiful, I figured I wouldn’t give you one more thing to harp about.”

“Wow. That was almost sweet until the end.”

He smirked. “You should never get your hopes up with me.”

“Guess not,” I laughed though the statement stuck to me, putting an uneasy feeling in my stomach as I brushed my teeth in his bathroom. But when I came out, Mason was fully dressed in a grey suit and tie, and with a hand on my back and a nod out the door, he walked with me downstairs.

“I have to rush to work but we can fit some coffee,” he said as he straightened his tie. And so I sat at the counter of the open kitchen, gazing down onto Mercer Street as Mason made what I thought was two Americanos. I cocked my head when he turned from the espresso machine with just one, sliding it across the island toward me.

“None for you?”

“Not this morning. I have a lunch with the trust of the Tate Building in thirty minutes.”

“So, you’re telling me you just delayed your morning to make me coffee.”

“I wouldn’t think I’d have to tell you considering you just saw it happen,” Mason said. “I do have to go now but you’re welcome to stay here.”

I veiled my surprise by the offer. “I’ll go at some point. I need to change into my own clothing. Pretty sure whatever I’m wearing belongs to an ex of Noah’s.”

“Fair enough.” Mason turned away from me as he grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. “Your necklace is on the living room table. Make sure to take it before you leave.”

“I will,” I said, a jitteriness in my bones. I knew he had to leave but I wished badly for another ten minutes to lead the conversation back to last night – specifically into the fact that I wanted to return the favor. I wanted to show Mason pleasure and I hated that I had doubts about whether he cared to receive it. He had been perfectly gracious with me this morning but I still found multiple things to be bothered by. His eyes didn’t burn into me the way they had last night. He hadn’t flirted much and now he wasn’t looking at me at all. Our lack of eye contact approached two minutes now as he tucked a folder into his black briefcase and zipped it up. “When will I see you again?” I asked, my pulse jumping when those blue eyes found mine again.

“I’ll have to see,” came his answer, prompting the wave of disappointment to crash in my chest. “Do you want me to have a car available for when you leave?” Again, he wasn’t looking at me.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said evenly, despite my brain racing to think of any last-minute ways to bring up last night. Because I refused to spend the rest of my day frantically overanalyzing every second from this morning, including Mason’s exit toward the door without another word spoken to me.

Fuck it.

I sat only a second in my chair before getting up to follow Mason. My heart beat fast as I stared at his elegant silhouette standing before the elevator in that perfectly tapered suit. “Mase.” His name breathed softly from my lips and when he turned around, I fought past the nerves that came with his handsome frown. Closing in on him, I touched his chest, my other hand grabbing his and sliding it beneath my sweater. I molded it to my naked breast, squeezing hard till he groaned against the kiss I pressed to his lips. One flick of tongue and our pace picked up. A rumble escaping Mason’s chest, he pushed my shirt up, fondling me roughly, a grunt tearing from his throat as he thrust me up against the wall. I gasped as I felt his tongue flick hot over my nipple – just a second before the elevator opened beside us and prompted his throaty growl.

“Fuck, Taylor.” Panting hard, Mason pulled away from me. There was torture in his eyes and his fingers dug into my waist. But then he groaned and buried his face in my neck and gave a tormented laugh. “This is the hard-on I was hoping to avoid before work,” he muttered, relieving and guilting me in one shot. When he drew back, I sucked in my bottom lip at the look of torture on his face. He shook his head at me, a brief silence passing before he said, “I’m late.” Retrieving his suitcase from the ground, Mason nodded for me to follow him to the elevator and as he stepped inside, I stood in its frame. I watched in awe as he leaned forward to kiss my lips gently, stepping back a second before the heavy doors glided shut to leave me alone in his penthouse, stunned and utterly breathless.

Chapter Twelve

I was beyond glad I was off work because the rest of my day was spent thinking nonstop about Mason. I found myself craving the sound of his voice, the smell of his skin. My brain refused to stop reliving the events of last night at Noah’s house. I relished it like my favorite scene in a movie, rewinding and replaying, over and over so I couldn’t be confused for even a second that it had all been a dream.

It was an insanely girly thing to do, and I couldn’t believe myself but I’d also stopped trying to understand what was going on. I was beyond the point of try

ing to make sense of this – of Mason and me. All I knew was that it felt good. Better than good – like the breathless, exciting, heart-skipping-a-beat kind of romance I’d fantasized about in high school but long concluded wasn’t actually real. Feeling this sexy, pleasured and satisfied was something straight out of Hollywood – that was what I told myself.

Till last night and this morning, at least.

Thanks to that inexplicably sweet kiss at his elevator, I just about sighed throughout the rest of my day, feeling as if I were floating several inches off the ground. I read a few chapters of the book I started four months ago, got my nails done and went window shopping for shoes. I strolled around aimlessly, burning through every playlist on my phone and at the end of the night, enjoyed a solo glass of wine with charcuterie in the window of a French Bistro on Broadway. By 8PM, I was sure I was maxed out on content and thoroughly done for the night. But then Mason called.

“What are you doing?” he asked when I picked up the phone. Unless I imagined it, there was a smile in his voice.

“I had a treat yourself kind of day,” I replied, trailing my finger along the fine edge of my glass.

“Sounds nice.”

“How was your day?” I asked, laughing inwardly at how weirdly normal our conversation sounded for once.

“Not bad, but a little long considering how it started,” Mason answered. “Girl I had over last night left me in a bad way before sending me off to work. Really could’ve used a cold shower before going to my meeting, but I was already running late.” That low and buttery laugh of his sent a chill up my arms. “Know anything about that?”