The Price of Mason (Forbidden Men 10)

When I pulled out of the coffee shop, though, I was extra aware of everything and everyone around me. I wanted to go straight back to Reese and check on her, but I also didn’t want to lead some stalker straight to her, either, so I ended up driving in circles until I was absolutely certain no one was following me.

Sighing in relief when I pulled into the driveway of Reese’s garage apartment, I was happy to find that nothing had changed since I’d left.

My pockets bulged as I stuffed them full of condoms and gum before I grabbed the drinks and crawled out of the Jeep.

There was one lady across the street walking a dog, and a man in his yard, watering flowers, but those were the only people around. No pale-blond freaks loitering anywhere.

I jogged up the steps and tapped on the door with the toe of my shoe. When Reese opened it immediately, my heart skipped in my chest, wondering why she’d been waiting so close to the door and was no longer in bed, where she’d promised she would stay.

Damn, had something spooked her?

I only had to look into her eyes to know something was wrong.

“What happened?” I demanded, scared shitless.

She wrung her hands together and winced before plopping down on her couch and blurting, “One of your clients sent you a text message. I read it. Then deleted it.”

I blinked, not expecting to hear that. I’d been ready to hear about a strange noise startling her or a face in the window—though the likelihood of a face appearing in her second-story window was pretty much nil. Hey, I wasn’t exactly thinking logically at the moment.

I stepped into the apartment, kicked the door shut behind me, and sat beside her. “Good,” I said, placing the lattes on the coffee table so I could take both her hands. “I’m glad you deleted it. But I don’t like this look on your face, Reese. Talk to me.”

She shook her head and stared blankly at our connected hands. Fear welled in my gut.

Maybe I should’ve told her I hadn’t slept with Patricia after all. But would that even make a difference? I had a feeling it was the overall fact that I’d been a prostitute that was freaking her out at the moment, not what I had or hadn’t done with my landlady. Besides, I was worried at this point that I’d waited too long to tell her at all; the likelihood of her believing me now if I tried to confess the truth was alarmingly low.

Licking her lips, she looked up into my face. “H-how often do you get a text like that?”

I cringed. Yep, it was my overall past beginning to haunt her. “It’ll take a while for the word to get out that I’m done.”

She bobbed her head up and down as if she agreed before asking, “And how much longer after that will it take to convince all your clients that you’re really serious this time? How long will they continue to slip you their business cards and tell you to call as soon as things between you and me get a little rough? I mean, how closely am I going to have to watch what I say? Because the first time I piss you off, you could just go running back to—”

“Stop,” I rasped unsteadily, tugging her against my chest because each word cut into me like a knife. It literally hurt to hear her worry about such a thing. “I’m not going to cheat on you, Reese,” I promised. “I will never do that. I tried the other way. For two years. And I didn’t like it. I’m not going back. I just want you.” I hugged her tighter when dread shuddered through me. “Don’t break up with me already. It’s only been one day. That’s not enough, not nearly enough. Please don’t give up on us yet.”

“I won’t.” Then she looked up at me and burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep saying this stuff.” She crawled into my lap and tucked her face shamefully into the crook of my shoulder. “I just want you too, Mason. I don’t want to break up with you. I don’t want to lose you at all.”

“Shh.” Kissing her hair, I rocked us gently. “You’re not going to lose me. It’s okay.”

She nodded and spent another few seconds crying before she trailed off with the occasional sniff. I just kept swaying with her and stroking her hair until she finally drew in a breath and lifted her face.

A few stray tears still clung to her cheek, so I wiped them away before kissing her nose. “I know it has to be damn near impossible for any woman to deal with a boyfriend who has a history like mine, especially being that it’s a very recent history. And it isn’t fair to ask you to. But I need you to. If anyone can get over what I was, you can. You are so strong. You are so amazing. You are…everything.”

She nodded and swallowed noisily. “I’ll get over it,” she said.

I nodded my thanks and kissed her gently on the lips. After the amount of times I’d spent inside her yesterday, the kiss could’ve turned passionate in a heartbeat, except it didn’t.

Something had changed between us. I could feel a distance that hadn’t been there at all the day before. Reality was definitely returning, and it was nudging a wedge between us as it did.

We sat cuddled together on the couch so long that Reese suggested we finish watching the Harry Potter movies.

I arched my eyebrows. “Finish?” I asked, wondering when we’d started them.

Grinning, she rolled her eyes. “Wow, you really don’t remember anything we did that night you got drunk here, do you?”

I blinked. “We watched Harry Potter together?”

She laughed, but it wasn’t quite the big open sound she usually shouted out. “We watched the first two and a half.”

Wow. I didn’t remember watching nearly three movies at all with her that night. Maybe one, but I couldn’t have told you which one.