Mason

Her milky thighs feel so smooth, a perfect contrast under my calloused hands. Bending at my knees, I glide her pants down her toned legs. My throat thickens at the sight of her bare pussy and my cock all but punches out, ready to dive into sexual oblivion.

I move slowly, appreciating every second I get to feel her. She’s bound to shut me out any moment now and as much as I’d love to spin her around and fuck her over the tub, my daughter’s in the other room waiting for me. Standing back up, I slip the straps of Lindsey’s bra off her delicate shoulders. Unclasping the back, she lets the black lace fall loosely away, along with the last of my willpower. Fuck it, this will only take a minute.

I close the distance between us and grab the sides of her face in my hands. Pulling her in, I claim her lips in a devastatingly life-ruining kiss. She destroys me, knocks the wind out of my lungs with one fucking kiss.

I break away from her sinful mouth and lean my forehead against hers. “Fuck, Lindsey. You’ve got the face of an angel, but the lips of the goddamn devil.”

Breathing labored, her chest rises up and down just as fast as my own. I trail my hands down softly, passing her collarbone, and stopping when I get to the swell of her tits. Palming both of them, I squeeze them in my hands, and a grumble sounds in the base of my throat. I rub my thumbs over her pebbled nipples, back and forth, so teasingly light.

“Fuck. I’m gonna blow just from touching your tits if I don’t stop now,” I breathe out and pull away. Running a hand through my hair, I pull myself together and adjust my rock hard dick raging in my pants.

Lindsey just stares at me, head tilted to the side, cheeks flushed pink. She still doesn’t speak; instead, she looks away shaking her head.

“I don’t get you.”

I cross my arms, confused. What the hell is she talking about?

She looks back at me. “Why didn’t you ask?”

“I’m sorry?” I ask, wondering where the hell she’s going with this.

She points down to the shiny, pale scar on the inside of her right thigh. “This. You didn’t stare, you didn’t ask. You just said nothing.”

“Still not sure where you’re going with this.” I fold my arms and widen my stance.

“My scar, it’s huge, horrible to look at. You don’t wonder what happened for me to get that?” She reaches for the towel on the rack and wraps it around herself.

I shrug, not really understanding why she brought it up. “It’s a scar. Most people have at least one. As for it being ugly, don’t know why you’d think that.” I lift her chin so she has no choice but to look me dead in the eyes. “I wish you could see what I see, Lindsey.”

She pulls out of my grasp, turning her gaze to the floor, and I know I’ve lost her for now. “You keep putting those walls up, sweetheart, I’m just going to keep knocking them down.”

***

Bubbles appear in the boiling water, the smell of tomato and herbs carry through the apartment. I listen to Charlotte talk about her day at school while thinking about Lindsey in the bathroom. I did notice her scar. It was hard not to. It’s not huge, doesn’t look old, but it’s certainly not new. The wound is nasty and wasn’t treated properly, that much I could tell when I glanced over it.

When I undressed her, I didn’t see an ugly scar though. I saw a woman, perfectly imperfect, wearing a piece of her story on her body with pride. Although she seemed anxious, she never made an attempt to hide her body from me when those clothes were coming off. I can’t deny I’m not curious about where it came from or the reason behind her meeting with Enzo Baccarelli. But if I push her, she’ll push back. With her, I have to pick and choose my battles wisely.

Lindsey

Painkillers dull the ache for a few hours. The constant chatter of a talkative Charlotte serves as a distraction, giving me no chance to sit and wallow over my destroyed home. My stomach bloats from an overabundance of well-cooked food, because apparently, Mason has skills outside of being a sexually teasing, all-round badass.

“Thank you for dinner, and for bringing me here to stay. I was being a pain in the ass before. I know staying at my own place wasn’t the smartest idea. I just don’t think being here with you and Charlotte is any smarter,” I say quietly to Mase as he walks back out from tucking Charlotte into bed for the night.

He refills our wine glasses and brings them over to the table, setting one in front of me. “Why, because you might actually enjoy it?”

I suck in a breath, because once again, he’s right on the mark. “Yes.”

“Lindsey,” he whispers, looking at me with such despair I instantly regret letting the word slip. My heart slices open with that look. I can’t handle it.

Retreating into myself, I change the subject. “She’s a cute kid. You must be proud.”

His lips curve up into a smile as he swivels the stem of his glass in his hand. “Yeah, I am, but I can’t take all the credit. She’s exactly like her mother, I have her to thank for raising a good girl for five years.”

My interest piques at the mention of Charlotte’s mother. She isn’t around and he’s never mentioned her until now. “What’s the story there?”

“Victoria died four years ago. Didn’t even know I had a daughter until the day she and Charlotte were in a car accident. Somehow Charlotte survived the crash, but Victoria didn’t. Child services turned up with Charlotte and the rest is history.”

“Wow.” I sit shell-shocked, eyebrows raised so high in surprise they’re probably reaching my hairline.

“I just wish she wasn’t growing up without a mother. It’s hard trying to take on both parenting roles. I try my best, but I can’t replace the love her mother can give her.”

I take a sip of my wine and shake my head. “No one else ever can, trust me on that. Take it from a girl who had a mother, then lost her at an age when she was old enough to remember everything. Charlotte’s lucky that she can grow up without remembering what the heartache feels like to remind her she lost an amazing woman.”

My throat grows thick and I take a sip of my wine to wash it down.

“Yeah, that’s one way to look at it.” Mason becomes quieter, rubbing the side of his cheek. “You’ve never talked about your family before.”

I shrug. “Neither have you really.”

“My family is my squad. We have dinner every Sunday night at one of our houses. Roamyn’s the smartass, if you hadn’t already noticed. He’s also my best friend, has been since we met in the Police Academy. Cassidy and Elias Kane are partners and they happen to be cousins. If they aren’t shooting shit up, they’re probably arguing about some petty bullshit neither of them really gives a damn about, but it’s just how they roll. My parents live in Arizona where I grew up. I moved to New York after college. I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like, but it is what it is. Life gets busy, time passes before you know it. Charlotte Skype’s them all the time though, and thank fuck, or I’d never hear the end of it from my mother.” His eyes brighten at the talk of his family.

I swallow a sigh. Where did this man come from? “You, Mason Cole, are a good man.”

Pushing his chair backwards, he steps out from the table and comes over to my side. His hands come out and he lifts me from under my arms before I know it’s happening. I’m pulled up, my body flush against his. My hands wrap around his neck and my legs naturally grip around his hips so I can steady us. Mason’s hands slide down to my ass and he walks with me in his arms, while piercing me with a perplexed stare I’ve seen before. He’s trying to do what others have attempted and failed. He’s trying to work me out. What he doesn’t realize is he already has me trapped in a fantasy where I can do nothing but imagine a different life, a different me, one where the heat burning within never disintegrates to ash. How does he do this to me? I can’t control it and it agitates me to no end that I can’t do a thing about it. I hear a lock click into place and he closes the door behind us.