Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4)

by Allyson Lindt

  He’d fucked up, but he didn’t know what to do beyond apologize. He had a feeling if he did that too many times for the same thing, it would be one more reason for her to be annoyed.

  Mason’s stomach growled. Day One and he was already sick of chips and cereal. He never thought he’d say that. “Do you want to stop for dinner?” he risked asking.

  Ginny’s frown deepened. Great, what now?

  She's more strapped for cash than you.

  There was that. He shoved his own irritation aside. He started this. “It’s on me. To apologize for being an ass.”

  “You weren’t.” A crack appeared in her scowl. “I shouldn’t have pried. It’s your life.”

  “Dinner, then?”

  “I can’t keep letting you treat me. Only if you let me pay you back when I get access to my money again.”

  He probably wouldn’t. “An apology dinner doesn’t require payback.”

  She sighed, but her expression was more relaxed than it had been in several hour. “All right.”

  He took the next exit that promised both lodging and food, and pulled into a Cracker Barrel parking lot.

  “Ooh, you’re taking me someplace fancy.” The teasing was back in her voice. Hesitant, but there.

  He’d missed her playfulness. How was that possible after just a day? “Only the best for my partner in road trip mischief.”

  “I like the sound of that. We’ll have to figure out a way to make it true.”

  They headed inside. His mind took the opportunity to race ahead with what mischief could mean. And there was his imagination, back with vivid memories mingled with fantasy, of Ginny in various stages of undress and grinding against him.

  Desire raced under his skin as the thoughts grew more vivid. Diving between Ginny’s legs. Tasting her. Making her moan and climax, before fucking her hard and fast.

  That made walking awkward, and he tried to be subtle about adjusting himself.

  The hostess showed them to their table. As she left, Ginny squeezed Mason’s arm. “I’m going to wash up. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure.” He settled into his seat. He grabbed his phone, and scrolled through messages. Mostly junk.

  Except for the email from Trina, with the subject line Looking Forward to Seeing you in a Few Days.

  His heart skipped, and he cursed the reaction. The message was an automated reminder sent to a mailing list, complete with the Unsubscribe at the bottom.

  The photo made his breath catch. Trina laughing and looking as incredible as he remembered. With Spencer.

  What was Mason doing? Chasing a shadow of the past who was happier now than he’d ever seen her with him. Where did he go wrong?

  “Trina is the bride?” Ginny’s question caught him off-guard.

  Well, fuck. He was about to get an earful.

  And he deserved it.

  GINNY TOOK HER SEAT, a jumble of unidentifiable emotions scattering inside. At least now she knew why Mason was so elusive about the entire girlfriend thing.

  “It’s cool,” she said. “You do you.”

  Did he see through the lie? She tried to pick her thoughts apart. Trina was cute in that girl-next-door kind of way. Like the real-life version of the illusion Ginny tried to project on stage.

  “When I said girlfriend... She’s an ex. It was easier than going into details.” Mason had put his phone away, and was fiddling with edge of his napkin.

  “It’s really okay. You don’t owe me an explanation. Though I’m going to my ex-girlfriend’s wedding would have been easy to say.” She snapped her jaw shut before any more emotion leaked into her words.

  What did she care? This guy was a ride. Certainly a better option than she’d dared hope for. Friendly. Safe. So what if she’d had a couple of daydreams? She did that with celebrities too, with little thought for their personal lives.

  Who gave a fuck if Mason was a little obsessive over a woman who was marrying someone else?

  Except that was the opposite of safe. Was that why it bothered her?

  Mason tore tiny pieces from the napkin, and dropped them in a growing pile. “There’s a lot of connotation there, and I didn’t know how you’d react. And not you specifically, but anyone.”

  She was struggling to bite her tongue. “I mean it. I get it.” She didn’t want three-plus more days of the uncomfortable silence that had been their ride today. This was none of her business.

  “I’m sorry I got defensive earlier.”

  Because he knew his behavior wasn’t quite right.

  “It’s fine. Water under the bridge,” she said.

  And that chasm of silence was back between them. They placed their orders, and she tried go cheap. Her mouth watered when Mason ordered the burger with extra fries.

  Ginny hesitated, then grabbed the waitress before she could walk away. She didn’t want to owe Mason, especially now, but she’d pay him back. “Actually, I changed my mind. Can I get the same as him?”

  “Sure, hon.” The woman made a note and walked away.

  “I like that about you.” Mason’s tone was hesitant, but sincere.

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t make a big show out of being dainty and not eating too much.”

  “Nah. I love my food.”

  He chuckled and patted his gut. “I know that feeling.”

  Because he was sweet and cuddly with an underlying current of sexy. And he was stalking his ex.

  The silence was back.

  This sucked.

  Another song came over the loud speakers. Something about black Cadillacs and a funeral.

  Ginny had heard it a few times, but tonight the lyrics about two women unknowingly vying for the attention of the same man held a different meaning.

  She wanted to smack herself for caring. She wasn’t vying for Mason’s attention. Even if she’d hooked up with him, it would only be for sex. And given the hints of hang-ups that he had, casual sex probably wasn’t even a thing on his list.

  She definitely wasn’t sulking because some guy treated her well, and she read too much into it.

  Their food arrived, and she nibbled at her fries. “It’s just—”

  “What?” He looked at her with expectation.

  She didn’t want to do this. “Never mind.”

  “Okay.” He took a bite of his burger.

  She should follow his example. “This Trina girl is marrying someone else. She’s an ex for a reason. Does going to the wedding prove that you’re a good guy? It won’t change her opinion of you one way or the other. She either already knows who you are or doesn’t want to. She invited you to be polite. And calling her your girlfriend when she’s not, even to a random stranger—” Ginny snapped her mouth shut. “I’m done.” But she wasn’t. This gnawed at her. As much as she tried to tell herself it was all for Trina’s sake, she didn’t want to be wrong about Mason. She wanted—almost needed—him to be the guy she fantasized about.

  That was fucked up. Her residency director would probably have all sorts of analysis about her behavior.

  Mason took a long swallow of Coke, then set his glass down with a sigh. “I knew you’d take this wrong.”

  How many ways were there to take it? “I need to stop talking.”

  “Probably a good idea.” The edge in his voice sliced through her.

  “Fine. Brush my concerns off. But you really shouldn’t be going.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Because someone who takes their clothes off for a living and sells the implication of sex—not even actual sex, you’re just the trial sample—is someone I want to take relationship advice from?”

  The words dug deeper than she thought possible. Ginny should laugh them off, and pretend she didn’t care. Hell, she should thank him for the reminder that even the people who looked nice on the surface were assholes underneath. “Good point. Fuck you, too.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mason hated that the day had deteriorated so far. He didn’t want to fight with Ginn
y. About this or anything. He’d been enjoying her company. But it seemed like every other time he opened his mouth, he said the wrong thing.

  This time, though, he didn’t have to guess at his mistake. It was glaringly obvious. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry.”

  Her jaw was clenched, and her food sat untouched in front of her. “Really. How does a sentiment like that come out right? How would you react if I said I’m sure a basement dwelling neckbeard knows so much more about wooing women than I do? Do you tell them how big your in-game sword is? Boast about your Underwatch score?”

  “Overwatch.” He bit the inside of his cheek. He’d thrown shade at her. There was no justification for getting mad because she gave better than he did.

  She shoved back from the table, the chair legs scraping loudly across the floor. “Great. Thanks for clearing that up. Unlock the car for me, so I can nap until you’re ready to go. Something tells me you don’t trust someone like me with your keys.”

  At least she wasn’t threatening to hitchhike out of here and leave hm behind. He needed to make this right. “I was thinking we’d get rooms, and sleep here for the night.”

  “Have fun with that. If you don’t trust me to sleep in your car, I’ll find an alternative. It’s going to hurt to pay for my meal. There’s no way I can afford a room.”

  “Dinner is on me. I told you that.”

  She crossed her arms. People were staring. He just wanted her to sit down, but was worried asking would make her louder.

  “Thinking I could owe you anything was a mistake. I’d hate to find out the implication of sex was expected in return. Are you going to unlock the car, or should I find a bench to sleep on?”

  “Ginny, please.”

  “What?” She bit off the word.

  The waitress stopped next to them. “Can I get you anything? A box or a to-go cup for your drink?”

  How much practice did she have asking that with a pleasant smile?

  “We’re okay, thanks,” Mason said.

  “I’m fine.” Ginny spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Great. I’ll check in on you.” The woman left their ticket on the table and walked away.

  Mason slid the check toward him before Ginny could grab it. “Dinner is on me. If you don’t eat it, it will go to waste. Sit, please? Get some food in you, to buy me more time to figure out how to pull my foot out of my mouth?”

  Ginny growled, but she sank back into her chair. She snagged a fry. And then another. Then several at once, and washed it down with a swig of sweet tea. “You might as well talk while I’m stuffing my face.”

  It wasn't quite consensus to hear him out, but it was close, and he expected less. “I’m sorry. Sometime—a lot of the time—I have no idea what I’m supposed to say, and I think What would someone else, someone who doesn’t second-guess themselves all the time, say in this situation?”

  “Are you mimicking your brother? Because he’s a bad role model.”

  Mason bristled at the dig, but given how Jake approached her, it was a fair assessment.

  “People who never second-guess themselves are frequently assholes.” Ginny met his gaze. “They care more about themselves than the people around them.”

  “Is that your professional opinion as a psychiatrist?” He hoped his teasing came out right.

  “That’s my professional opinion as the rag doll who takes her clothes of for jerks’ money.”

  Apparently he had a ways to go to make this right. He wanted to be annoyed. “They’re doing something right that I’m not.” Shit. That came out wrong. Her scowl reinforced his suspicion. “My point is, I’m sorry. Don’t go sleep in the car. If you can’t afford a room, I’ll get a double. They’re the same cost, and I’m getting one regardless.”

  “No more favors. I’m keeping track of all of this, and as soon as I have my bank card in hand, I’m paying you back.”

  With most people he’d assume that was lip service. The hard edge to her voice and glare said she was very serious. “That’s not necessary.”

  “It is.”

  What else was he supposed to say? He’d apologize all night, if he thought it would get them back to middle-ground.

  She stared at her plate while she ate. He was grateful she wasn’t insisting on sleeping on a bench anymore, but he had no idea how to make things right.

  WHEN THEY REACHED THEIR motel room, Ginny waited until Mason put his bag on a bed, before sitting on the other. “Thank you for letting me share your room.” She made sure to sound grateful, but couldn’t summon more enthusiasm than that.

  “It’s not a problem.” He didn’t look at her.

  She hated that she owed him anything. This was one step from borrowing money.

  And leeching free coffee and gas station snacks wasn’t?

  She would have made that up to him. Pitched in on the rest of the trip. This was something she couldn’t pay him back for immediately.

  The silence that was their dinner companion gave her thoughts free reign to argue with each other. Mason didn’t say anything most people weren’t thinking, and why did she care about his opinion? She didn’t put this much effort into what anybody said about her.

  Besides, he was the asshole stalking his ex-girlfriend. Despite his insistence he was over her, he was going to her wedding, and didn’t see an issue with it.

  His disdain hurt for reasons she couldn’t untangle or move beyond. That her past job made her less in his eyes.

  His apology had sounded sincere, but it also wasn’t the kind of thing someone said if they weren’t thinking it.

  Then again, she’d formed ideas of her own about him. She didn’t mean the basement-dwelling neckbeard comment, but he didn’t know how to talk to women, he didn’t have any confidence, and he thought being an asshole was the same as being assertive.

  When she examined her assumptions, he hadn’t given her a huge reason for them.

  And now she was back on the same circular path that haunted her during their meal.

  She grabbed a book from her bag, and opened.

  It wasn’t her job to change him, or her place to tell him how he should or shouldn’t act around his ex. Especially if he didn’t ask for her input.

  Now to hope her dreams got the message, and didn’t treat her to more images of cuddling with him. Teasing him. Feeling his hands roam her body.

  It would be her job to help people realize things about themselves. Paying patients. Who came to her looking to change and grow.

  “Do you want the full truth?” Mason’s question startled her.

  No. It’s none of my business. The words stuck in her throat.

  “About why I’m going to the wedding? Because you’re not the only one asking. I’ve been wondering it myself, and I’ve had a lot more time to think about it. I believe I finally figured it out, thought,” Mason said.

  Ginny didn’t want to have this conversation, but her curiosity disagreed. “Why are you going?”

  “I don’t have any sort of hope or delusion that Trina will have Spencer for me. She and I did break up for a reason. Besides, the dude owns the largest water park chain in the country. Why would she walk away from that for me?” Mason laughed.

  Ginny cringed. “You see, you chuckle because you want me to think that’s a joke. Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself of the same. But at least part of you feels that way, just like at least part of you has a less-than-stellar opinion of my past.”

  “And you’ve never thought anything negative about someone else? You obviously have ideas about me. You’re just better at locking it away instead of dealing with it.”

  “You’re not dealing with it, you’re using it as an excuse to say something aloud, to convince yourself the thought isn’t all that bad.”

  “So I should lock it away?” A hint of challenge crept into Mason’s voice.

  Ginny struggled to keep herself on track. She wouldn’t be derailed by emotion again. “So you should figure out why you feel that way,
when other people don’t, and engage in a little introspection, to decide if they have a point or if you need to stop giving a fuck what they think.”

  “And then I’ll be one of those assholes who speaks without considering other people’s feelings.” He sounded exasperated. “Those same people who you said spend more time concerned with themselves than those around them.”

  He was twisting her words, and she hated that. He didn’t want to understand.

  Or you’re as uninterested in trying as you’re accusing him of.

  Fucking brain. “I’m not getting into this with you,” she said.

  He threw up his hands. “I’m not being unreasonable. I want you to explain this to me. Am I supposed to care what people think? Ignore them? Share my opinions? Swallow them? Change them because someone said to? Tell the world to go fuck itself and live in a self-perpetuating bubble?”

  When he put it that way, she almost saw why it was confusing. To Ginny, it made perfect sense though. There was a time and place for every single one of those.

  And what if someone is trying to find those boundaries?

  She couldn’t set those for him.

  Then stop trying to.

  “Why are you going to the wedding?’ she asked.

  “I want to find out why Trina and I didn’t work out. Why, after so much time together, she friendzoned me.”

  Friendzone. The word and its implications crawled through Ginny like a cactus under her skin. That he expected Trina owed him a relationship, love, sex, or something, because he was nice to her. That he felt Trina’s friendship wasn’t as valuable as the conquest of dating her.

  “Yeah, this conversation is over.” Ginny picked up her book and pretended to read.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mason couldn’t hide his frustration, and a growl slipped out. “What did I say now?” He wasn’t trying to be obtuse, but every time he thought he had a handle on what Ginny was saying, she changed the rules.

  She didn’t look up, but her jaw clenched. Finally, she tossed her book aside, and shifted on the mattress to face him. “Friendzone? Really? Dating isn’t the next tier after friendship. She’s not obligated to go out with you—to fuck you—because you were nice to her. Is that why you’re kind to me? Because when this is over, there’s an expectation of sex?”