You Are My Reason (You Are Mine Book 1)

by Willow Winters

  “Are we going to what?”

  With a stronger flush, she shakes her head gently and says, “Never mind … Of course we are.”

  I can’t help the smirk on my face at her shyness or the way my cock jumps in my pants. I peek at her before leaving the tight parking lot and heading down Second Avenue. My fingers itch to rest against her bare thigh as her dress rides up slightly. I place my hand on the gearshift instead, stopping at a red light and looking over to her.

  She squirms in her seat under my gaze and I fucking love it. It’s easy to forget with her. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe that’s why I can’t say no and walk away. If I can just have her for tonight, then it’ll all be all right. I’m her downfall and she’s my savior.

  “Where are we headed, sweetheart? My place?” I give her the option but she’s free to suggest someplace else. She’s quick to nod, glancing at me then looking down at her hands in her lap.

  I’m enjoying this way too much. I turn to look out the driver side window and ignore that voice in the back of my head saying I’m a Grade A prick for doing this to her.

  “Thank you,” she says softly as the light turns green and traffic starts to move. “For heading out the back and away from all that …” she pauses, waving her hands in the air before falling back against the seat and concluding, “bullshit.”

  The curse word seems foreign on those sweet lips of hers. I nod my head once, looking back to the windshield and twisting my hand around the leather steering wheel.

  “No problem,” I say easily but I can feel her need to talk, to tell me everything else that’s on her mind. I wait for it, staring straight ahead, but nothing comes. Just silence as we drive to the sounds of Tchaikovsky.

  It’s only fifteen minutes to my place at this rate, but the time can’t pass quickly enough. Every second of silence is a second I consider turning back. There’s still time to walk away.

  “Do you always do this?” Jules asks, breaking up the quiet.

  “What’s that?”

  “This,” she says, her cheek resting against the seat as she looks at me.

  “Hmm?” I still don’t understand her question.

  “Pick up women—” she stops and rolls her eyes. “You know, one-night stands.” Tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, I consider her question. I used to without thinking twice. But that was before Avery. Before my father and this hell I’ve been thrown into.

  “So I’m right, you do this often?” she says and I have to suppress my smile at her brazen demeanor.

  “I’m not going to answer that, Jules.” My voice comes out a little harder than I wanted and she shrinks back some. Smooth, real fucking smooth.

  It’s tense for a moment and I flick on the turn signal as we head down a deserted street. So close. I can’t lose her now. “I don’t take women to my place,” I tell her simply. “And it’s been a while.”

  Her brows pinch for a moment and then she struggles to hold back a laugh. It catches me off guard but then I remember how much she drank. I’m still feeling a bit of the tequila myself. My tolerance is high as fuck, so if I’m feeling it, she must be wasted. The realization has me rethinking things again.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask her.

  “Fine,” she says and then covers her mouth with her hand.

  “Are you drunk?” She doesn’t look like it in the least.

  She purses her lips and shakes her head as she says, “Nope. Just right.” She stretches in the seat, covering another yawn when I stop at my gates.

  I eye her for a moment and then brush it off.

  I know Jules comes from money and was born into this lifestyle like me, so I’m surprised to see admiration on her face when we arrive. “Your home is beautiful.” Her voice is even and sincere. I’m proud of my home. I built it myself. Liam, my business partner, helped design it for engineering purposes, but it was all based on my ideas and plans.

  I pull up in the driveway as her phone starts vibrating.

  She doesn’t pay attention as I approach the front of the house. Judging by the look on her face and the way she shoves the phone back into her clutch, her friends from the bar are probably giving her hell.

  “Everything all right?” I ask, more to make sure I’m getting her ass into my bed than anything else.

  For only a moment, I think she received a message from someone who knows what happened. Someone who saw what I did, although I don’t think anyone could have possibly seen. My muscles coil and my knuckles turn white as I grip the gearshift, putting the car into park and searching her face for answers.

  She blows a bit of hair out of her face and looks anywhere but at me.

  “It’s fine,” she says but I know she’s lying.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” The command comes out easily.

  Her eyes go wide and I almost second-guess talking to her like that. Almost. But then she caves to me.

  “My friends just found out.”

  I cock a brow at her. “Found out?” She parts her lips slightly and I’m guessing from the way she leans into me, my touch is all she needs to loosen up. I rest my hand on her thigh, just beneath the hem of her dress, caressing her lightly with my thumb.

  “I don’t do this often or… ever—”

  I lean in and press my lips to hers, stopping her explanation. I move my hand to her cheek and then behind her head as she deepens the kiss. Her lips part for me and her hot tongue massages mine in swift, strong strokes.

  I groan into her open mouth, our breath mingling as my dick hardens to fucking stone.

  “Forget about them,” I tell her as I break the kiss and pull away. She’s left breathless, her eyes still closed when I open my door and start to get out, taking the keys with me.

  I almost close the door and miss her whispering, “I’ll forget about it all.”

  But I heard her. I heard the whisper, the raw vulnerability and truth in her statement.

  I wish I hadn’t.

  Julia

  I’ve never had a one-night stand before.

  Not once.

  It’s not like I have a thing against them and Lord knows my friends enjoy them, with or without discretion. It’s just never happened. My body heats everywhere, one place a bit more than others when Mason touches me, and especially when he cuts through it all with his demanding ways.

  My thoughts race as Mason wraps his hand around my waist and leads me to the front door. The chill in the night air is sobering. I can’t explain how my nerves are shooting through me. My breathing comes in a little faster now that the alcohol’s all but worn off.

  I try to focus on how even our footsteps sound but all I can think about is how I’ve never done this before.

  I’m doing it. I’m going to sleep with a stranger. I’m going to sleep with someone other than Jace.

  Jace and I met as children, paired up in boarding school. I’ve never been with anyone else. My heel slips on the paved steps at the thought, almost making me fall, but Mason catches me.

  He’s quick to grab on to my elbow and waist, his hands hot on my body. It’s a shock as something inside of me reacts almost violently to his very touch.

  Eight months alone … even longer since I’ve been touched. The idea of moving on has never been such a dominating thought, or so terrifying.

  I wrap my arms around myself, fueled by both fear and desire. My pulse quickens as I look back over my shoulder and toward his car. Toward an escape.

  Mason straightens his shoulders, squaring them and hitting the keys against his leg once. The jingle catches my attention. It’s the only sound in the cold dark night.

  I stand frozen as I look into his eyes. I’m a fool for doing this. It’s not me. Not the woman I am today and not the woman I was before I lost my husband. Mason’s steel gray gaze searches my own and I feel lost all over again.

  I part my lips, ready to give an excuse, a lie, or even the truth. Anything to just go back in time and avoid being in this situation.

&nbs
p; To run, just like I’ve been doing for the past eight months. Didn’t I say I needed a change? I said I needed something drastic, but that was back when the alcohol was flowing and we were surrounded by a crowd of people.

  Mason is so very tempting. He’s gorgeous and confident, but I can’t handle a man like him. I can’t deal with this.

  Weak and alone. A low whisper from the self-loathing bitch inside of me resonates in my ears. I slam my lips shut without uttering a word, hating that she’s right.

  I won’t leave. I suck in a breath and force myself to be determined. Whether what I’m doing is right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. I need a change.

  A moment passes with the two of us standing still in front of his porch. Only a handful of steps are between us and his front door. I just have to get there.

  My eyes drift from the deep navy door to Mason. I’m caught in place as he takes a single step closer to me. It’s only one step, but with it is something powerful. His height, his scent, and his very dominance overwhelm me when he’s this close. He radiates desire and my mind may be questioning things, but my body is pulled to him, magnetized by his presence.

  It’s soothing. Surprisingly so as I let my body move forward, closing the small space between us. He trails a finger down my collarbone lightly, testing my reaction.

  “I want to touch you, Jules,” he murmurs, forcing my gaze back to his all-consuming stare. I hadn’t imagined it’d be this intense. Not at the bar and not in his Mercedes. He didn’t push, and he didn’t do anything to make me feel trapped. How odd—now that we’re out in the open with no one watching and no enclosed spaces, it’s only now that I feel cornered. All because of the way he looks at me.

  What’s most surprising is that I love it. I want this. The way he looks at me is addictive; it’s freeing in more ways than one.

  I can’t wimp out. I won’t.

  I nod my head once and his fingers trail up my throat. His light touch feels much rougher than he’s being with me. I tilt my head as his grip moves to my chin and he just barely brushes his lips against mine. It’s a soft kiss that leaves me wanting more. I keep my eyes closed and stay as still as can be when he hovers close and whispers, “I want to kiss you.”

  “Then kiss me,” I whimper, a pathetic plea, or maybe one of strength. My head feels so clouded that it’s hard to know what’s driving me. Raw, primal instinct or desperation. Perhaps a lethal cocktail of both.

  He pulls away just slightly, but I don’t let him get far. I take a half step closer to him, my breasts brushing against his shirt and I crash my lips into his. I need him. I need this.

  He’s quick to wrap his arms around me and pull my body against his. The faint noises of the night surround us and they seem to get louder as my breathing gets heavier. His lips travel down my throat and I throw my head back. I may have been tipsy from the alcohol before but in this moment I’m drunk with lust, and I find it too difficult to care.

  “I want to fuck you, Jules,” Mason practically growls. He pulls me into him suddenly and forces a gasp from me as he nips my earlobe. “I want to make you cum so hard you forget everything.”

  I moan as my nipples harden and my back arches. “The only thing you need to worry about is remembering my name,” he whispers into my ear, his hands roaming down my waist, stopping at my ass. “Just my name and what I’ve done to you tonight.”

  I tilt my head back and everything he’s saying is exactly what I need to hear. “Yes,” I say into the soft breeze that cools my exposed hot skin.

  “Only tonight,” he says so low, I nearly miss it. My fingers slip under his shirt so I can feel his bare skin, and it triggers him to pull away from me. Just slightly, only so he can look into my eyes, but I grip him harder. I’m afraid to lose what he’s offering me.

  I want him. I want his promise.

  I want to forget and feel alive again.

  “Yes, only tonight,” I say in agreement and then press my lips to his, moving a hand to the back of his head. My fingers spear through his thick hair as his tongue strokes mine and he lifts me into his arms by my ass.

  I gasp at the sudden movement and wrap my legs around his waist. He takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses down my neck and torture my deprived body.

  I’m sure of it now. All I need is to be held by this man. Fucked by him and ruined by him.

  With my back against the wall of his porch, he slides a hand up my dress and between my legs. Petting me, testing me until the sudden spike of pleasure hits me harder than I expected. He presses his thumb against me just right and my grip on him tightens.

  I come alive for him, every nerve ending on fire, ready to burst into a flame so hot I can’t control myself. He doesn’t stop, even as I writhe and beg for him to take me inside. My fingers dig into his shoulders, my nails scratching along his shirt and wishing it were skin.

  The pleasure is so intense already. It’s nearly too much. I want to pull away because the inevitable drop from this high is going to shatter me. I’m all too aware of it, but I can’t help myself.

  He never stops kissing me as he balances me in one strong arm and unlocks the door. He never sets me down until he has me on his bed.

  And he never gives me the chance to think about anything but the desire threatening to destroy me.

  He doesn’t take his time with my dress, desperate to have me bared to him. I reach behind me, unclasping my bra as he pulls the lace down my body. His fingers loop around my thong and take it along with the black dress.

  My heels fall to the floor with a loud thud. I’m given a quick moment to consider what I’m doing as he pulls his shirt over his head. But instead of giving in to self-doubt, I’m mesmerized by the rippling of his muscles and then by the girth and rigidity of his cock as he shoves off his pants.

  It happened so fast. Like a whirlwind of chaos that only surrounded the two of us. The mattress groans with his weight as I prop myself up on my elbows. He slides between my legs, spreading my thighs. My body opens up for him as if he was meant to be there all along. As if my movements are controlled by his desires.

  My heart feels like it’s trying to get away from me. His hard, hot body pushes down against mine and I can barely breathe.

  My head turns to one side and then the other, feeling the cool sheet beneath my cheeks as he brushes against my slick folds.

  “You’re so wet for me,” he says and Mason’s voice is a mixture of wonder and reverence. He captures my lips with his and suddenly pushes his cock deep inside of me, all the way to the hilt in one swift stroke.

  I scream out, my neck arching and my back bowing as he stills and gives me a moment to adjust to his size. My breath halts in my chest, but then he moves.

  Not just moves. He fucks me with a punishing force. The bed slams against the wall with each thrust. He kisses me as though he’s breathing the air from my lungs. He pins me down and takes everything from me, forcing me higher and higher, all while giving me everything I never knew I needed.

  It’s not until I’m left panting and recovering from waves of pleasure that I start to question what I’ve done. But it’s late and I’m so exhausted. I forget it all except his name and what he’s done to me, and give in to sleep.

  Don’t leave me alone…

  Don’t leave me alone, I cried and I screamed.

  Don’t leave me alone, my whole life demeaned.

  You left me unguarded. My heart raw and bleeding.

  You left me forever. The pain there left seething.

  You left me here weak. Just a stone in the ground.

  You left a place beside me, my picture-perfect life unbound.

  Mason

  Last night was stupid. Such a juvenile word but I can’t think of anything better. Fucking stupid.

  I’ll blame it on the alcohol. A low exhale travels up my throat as I walk away from the floor-to-ceiling window in my office. The hustle and bustle of the street below is what drives me to keep moving. This city never sleeps and the
work never ends.

  Last night was about taking a moment to unwind from the shitshow my life has become. From my father, the arrogant prick and criminal that he is. The awareness of just how ruthless my father is has never hurt me more.

  That’s what it really is. Pain. Coming to the realization that your father’s a disgusting excuse for a human being and should be behind bars is ... difficult to handle. It’s even worse when you’re tied to his bullshit.

  I sink into my leather desk chair and it protests the movement with a groan until I’m comfortable. Unlike my father’s office, traditional and smelling of polished wood and old books, my office is the opposite. It’s airy and open, modern and sleek. A model of our newest planned development sits in the very center of the space.

  That’s what started all this shit. A celebration for my company’s first suburban development. No more apartments downtown. We’re ready to expand into uncharted territories. I’m an idiot for thinking this would change things between my father and me. I really thought things would be different. I’d attributed the tense relationship with him to my own doing. A rebellious child with pent-up anger over his mother’s death. Born into this black-tie bullshit.

  I was always supposed to act right. Always supposed to say the right thing, stand the right way, behave and pay attention. Well, I didn’t want to. I crack my neck remembering the fights I started. A smile kicks up my lips. Four boarding schools and hefty donations from my father still couldn’t keep me in line.

  Working in construction was just another way to stick it to my father.

  Higher education? Fuck that. I got a job ... but it didn’t last for long. I’m just not made to work for someone else and I wanted a more physical job. So, I started Gray’s Homes with Liam nearly three years ago. He had the schooling and I had the designs. I didn’t think it’d be this successful or grow so quickly. So successful, in fact, that I ran out of capital and so did he. I took out loan after loan, investing in myself and I’d do it all over again. It was worth it to keep growing and taking advantage of the momentum we had. I should have known better when my father came to me and offered to invest in me too.