Price of a Kiss

by Linda Kage

  When I returned, his Jeep still sat in the drive but my apartment was quiet. I crept to my room, almost worried he’d risen and left anyway. The day had brightened considerably, and the sun had snuck in through the closed blinds to spray down on my bed, spotlighting a masterpiece.

  Mason had rolled onto his back in my absence. The sheets had shifted down to the bottom of his ribcage. And holy cappuccino and white chocolate mocha espresso, he was shirtless!

  Yeah, he’d been shirtless all night long while I’d been lying next to him…and I’d had no clue.

  Wow.

  Just…wow.

  I gazed at him in all his shirtless glory—on my bed, squee!—and was beyond tempted to pull out my cell phone to snap off a few (dozen) pictures to keep forever and ever.

  But…he might not appreciate that.

  Damn, sometimes being friends with a total hottie could suck. You couldn’t take nearly naked pictures of them while they were passed out on your bed against their permission without getting a serious case of the guilties.

  It didn’t keep me from looking though. So, I looked and looked.

  And looked.

  Then, like a Harry Potter lightning bolt, an idea struck me. What if he wasn’t just shirtless under that sheet? What if he was completely naked?

  Oh, this I had to know.

  Since he was dead to the world and seemed like a really deep sleeper, I went on a fact-gathering mission. Purely academic curiosity, of course.

  After setting the two lattes I was holding on my dresser, I grasped the edge of the sheets covering him and inched them very, very slowly down his sleek, tapered and tanned torso. My attention darted between his face and his chest, taking in every inch of the sexy, sculpted pecs I exposed.

  When I came to the beginnings of his tattoo, I brightened, forgetting about the pants mystery for a second.

  Maybe I could read what it said today. I tugged a little more insistently on the sheet and discovered at the same moment that he was still wearing his underwear but no pants and his tattoo said Make Me.

  I gasped.

  After last night, those two words made so much sense. I could see him feeling trapped and rebellious, living a life where women told him exactly what to do to pleasure them and thinking this was his only form of giving them the finger.

  He wanted to break free and live his own life. He wanted control over himself.

  I suddenly understood why I’d always felt connected to him. We were similar souls who’d been made to feel repressed. After years of Jeremy telling me how to wear my hair, what kind of clothes to buy, what kind of food to eat, I had grown the same rebellious, “make me” attitude.

  The sad thing was, Mason was still living under his suppression, and he had the means to break free; he just wouldn’t. He wouldn’t stop doing what he was doing until he knew without a doubt that his mother and sister were going to be okay. But oh, Mason, you poor deluded thing. They’ve already made you.

  His tat also reminded me I was acting like every other woman out there, treating him like a sex object by sneaking a stolen peek at him. Tears stung my eyes. I was about to cover him back up, give him back his dignity, but at the last second, I reached out and touched the dried ink embedded into his skin, silently apologizing for my part in making him this way.

  He sucked in a breath at my touch and rolled toward me, onto his stomach, where he winced and buried his face in my pillow.

  No, I didn’t plan on washing that pillowcase ever again, now that you mention it. Sex object or not, he was still Mason, and I would relish every little scent he left behind on my bed.

  Retreating to the doorway, I wiped my cheeks dry and snagged up both cups as if I’d just then come into the room. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” By my perky tone of voice, you’d never guess I’d just been on the brink of weeping my eyes out.

  A second later, Mason whipped his head off my pillow. “What the hell?” His voice was hoarse and confused as he jerked his face around until he spotted me. Eyes widening, he gasped. “Reese?”

  “Morning,” I chirped and took a nonchalant sip from my cup. “So, I went out and bought us some breakfast. There are doughnuts in the front room.” When he just stared at me, I rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. ‘Reese, you’re so amazing and wonderful. Thanks for thinking of me. You shouldn’t have.’ But, really, it’s no problem. Anything for my buddy. So…de nada.”

  He blinked and licked his lips, smacking them together a few times, probably to moisten a dry mouth. Glancing slowly around the room, he winced when he got to the window and morning sunlight blinded him, doing wonders to his hangover, I bet.

  “This is your room.”

  I opened my mouth to spout out something sarcastic and snide, but he looked like he was in pain, so I found pity and took another sip. “Yep.”

  He nodded slowly and directed his bloodshot eyes my way. “What am I doing in your bed?”

  I shrugged. “You said the couch was too short.”

  He squinted as if he was trying to remember saying any such thing. Focusing on me again, his face paled as he asked, “So, did we…?”

  This time, I couldn’t help myself. I had to torture him just a little.

  Hey, don’t judge.

  “Seriously, Mason.” I gasped in mock outrage. “How could you forget the magical night we shared together?” I pressed my cup to my heart as if in heartfelt pain. “It was…beautiful.”

  He choked out a sound of denial. “Oh, God. We didn’t.”

  “Hey!” I flipped up my middle finger, which was quite a feat since both my hands were full. “You could at least pretend as if the idea of sleeping with me doesn’t completely repulse you. Gah. I thought you were into me at least a little. I mean, what about your stupid horny guy urges and that freebie you said I could have if I just said the word?”

  “I…God, Reese. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just…shit. This was not something I’d want to forget.” He gulped and ran a hand through his sexy rumpled hair, looking a little green. “Umm…was it at least good for you?”

  I burst out laughing, choking on the last sip I’d taken and barely avoiding spitting it across the room. “Wow. You don’t remember anything at all, do you?”

  He winced, utter devastation flushing his cheeks. “No. Nothing.”

  “Well, relax, Casanova. Nothing happened.”

  If anything, he looked even more disappointed. “It didn’t?”

  “Nope.”

  He totally didn’t seem convinced. “You’re saying I came in here, crawled into bed with you, and I didn’t come onto you at all? Why do I find that impossible to believe?”

  Probably because it was. So, for this one, I had to lie. I shrugged. “You were tanked. You just stumbled into my room, burrowed in beside me, and passed out cold. Oh! And then you hogged three fourths of the mattress and all the sheets. Which is something you really need to work on, buster, because if you ever plan on getting married one day, no wife is going to appreciate that.”

  His lips quirked in amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He studied me a second longer, looking as if he needed to say something else. But instead, he swallowed and scrambled upright. “Bathroom?”

  I pointed. “Right there.”

  “Thanks.” He was out of bed and streaking across the room in a flash, gifting me with a blurred peek of him in nothing but dark boxer briefs.

  Oh, the hardships of having a sexy, tanned beefcake for a close friend.

  Though I wouldn’t have minded another glimpse of him in that snug, form-fitting cotton, I left my bedroom to give him some privacy, because it was kind of strange listening to him pee through the bathroom door.

  Leaving his latte on my dresser, I retreated to the living room and was going to hang around in front of the television until he emerged when I spotted his shirt and jeans crumpled in a pile on top of the blanket I’d covered him with last night. After picking them up off the floor and taking a nice, deep whiff of the
Mason smell lingering on them, I carried them back to my room. I’d just tossed them onto my bed when I heard the toilet flush. So I hurried back out again.

  This time, I shut my bedroom door before I returned to the couch. I’d just folded the blanket and draped it over the back of the couch when a knock came on my front door.

  For some reason, it reminded me of my mom’s phone call from the night before.

  What if it was Jeremy? What if he’d already found me?

  Shit, had I remembered to lock the door after I’d gotten back from my latte run? I’d been so preoccupied and eager to see if Mason was still here, I’d totally forgotten about the added threat of danger.

  The door handle turned, telling me I most definitely had not locked it.

  I freaked and glanced around frantically for a weapon. Oh, God, if Jeremy found Mason here, he’d kill him.

  Spotting my espresso I’d set on the coffee table, I snatched it up, ready to throw the hot, scalding brew in my psycho stalker ex-boyfriend’s face. But Eva began to jabber as soon as she barged her way inside.

  “Reese! We need to talk. Like right now.”

  I gaped at my cousin, alarmed by how close I’d come to burning her.

  How could I have forgotten to lock my door?

  She took in my frozen expression and sent me a funny look. “What?”

  “I thought you were…I forgot to…”

  Before I could spit out a comprehendible sentence, my bedroom door opened, and Mason emerged, still in the process of pulling his shirt on over his head. “I stole some of your ibuprofen,” he said as poked his head through the collar.

  When he spotted both Eva and me ogling him, he stopped short. His gaze froze on my cousin before he turned to me with a slight, apologetic wince.

  I cleared my throat. “Umm…that’s fine. I’m sure your hangover is”—I darted a quick glance toward Eva, who was narrowing her eyes threateningly—“killing you.”

  He opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to say something important, but what came out was, “Do you know where my shoes are?”

  I shook my head and sputtered my way into action. “Y-your shoes? Umm…yeah. I took them off of you after you passed out and left them by the foot of the couch.”

  Setting my latte back down, I knelt onto my hands and knees to search underneath the furniture.

  “Here they are.”

  When I straightened, Mason had a particularly strained expression on his face. His smile was tight as he snagged them from my hand and rushed to shove his feet into them. “Thanks.” He pointedly ignored Eva as he focused on me. “I’ll see you at two, right?”

  I wrinkled my brow. “Two?”

  His eyes flared wide. “Sarah’s birthday party is today. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah!” I smacked my forehead. “I totally forgot. But, yes, I’ll be there. Definitely.”

  He cringed. “You got her a present, didn’t you? She’s been wondering all week what kind of gift you got her. And you said you’d get—”

  “Of course I got her something.” With a devilish grin, I set my hand on my hip. “And I hate to break it to you, pal, but my present is so going to spank your little present’s ass.”

  For the first time since waking this morning, he gave me a genuine smile. “We’ll see about that.” His gaze cut to my cup sitting on the coffee table. “You said you got one of those for me, didn’t you? And mentioned food.”

  I rolled my eyes. Didn’t matter how awkward or uncomfortable a situation was, I could always count on Mason to take my food. “Your latte’s sitting on my dresser in my bedroom. And doughnuts are on the table.”

  Grin growing, his eyes warmed. “You’re the best.”

  Disappearing too briefly for Eva to say anything to me except, “Oh, no you didn’t,” he returned, drinking heartily from his to-go container. After snagging a doughnut out of the baggie on the table, he stamped a brief kiss to my cheek. “Thanks. For everything.”

  As my cheek tingled from where he’d pressed his lips, Mason turned toward the door but paused when Eva crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, refusing to move out of the exit.

  Lifting one eyebrow, he rumbled out a gruff, “Excuse me.”

  “Oh, that’s not going to happen. After what you did to my cousin—”

  “Eva, leave him alone. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” When she sliced me with an incredulous glance, I muttered, “Nothing happened. He fell asleep on the couch.”

  There was no reason to mention he hadn’t stayed there.

  “You know what,” E. snapped. “It doesn’t matter if you two stayed up all night sitting on opposite ends of the room, reading the Bible together. Alec saw his Jeep parked outside your apartment when he brought me home last night. You know he’s going to tell everyone.”

  I sighed. “I really didn’t care who Alec tells. I’m not going to un-friend Mason just because some stupid, ignorant people think I’m some skanky whore now.”

  “Whoa,” Mason broke in and spun toward Eva, looking freaked. “Are people actually saying that about her?”

  “He is my friend,” I railed, “and he really needed a friend last night. It’s not easy for him, you know.”

  “Oh. No, you’re right, ReeRee. I can’t imagine how awful his life must be. I mean, rich, swanky women flock to him, tucking hundred dollar bills down his pants on a daily basis. Yeah, that sounds….awful.”

  “You don’t know anything, okay. With medical bills and his mother’s crappy jobs—”

  “Look, I’ve heard about his home life already. I know the whole story of his sad, depressing childhood. But I also know a lot of people have it hard. A lot of people go through just as much shit—if not more—and they aren’t selling their bodies for money.”

  “You’re just jealous,” I muttered, turning away.

  “Jealous?” She cracked out a surprised laugh. “Of what?”

  Swinging back, I pointed at Mason and yelled, “Of that fact that he wanted nothing to do with you, only to turn around and become my friend.”

  “Friend?” Eva gave a harsh laugh. “He doesn’t want to be your friend.”

  “Actually,” Mason started, but E. rolled right over him.

  “And the only reason I came onto him that day in the library was because I knew you were watching. I wanted to show you how much he couldn’t be trusted.”

  I let out an unladylike snort. “Too bad that thoughtful gesture blew up in your face.”

  As if giving up hope on winning any argument against me, Eva swung toward Mason. “You,” she sneered. “You stay away from Reese. She’s so far out of your league you aren’t fit to lick her shoes. In fact, if you go anywhere near her again, I’m heading straight to the police station and telling them what you are.”

  Mason’s face drained of color. His eyes were already bloodshot, but they seemed to go extra moist as he glanced helplessly at me.

  “That’s enough!” Charging forward, I shoved Eva’s shoulder, nudging her with a little too much force away from the doorway. Then I grasped Mason’s forearm. “Don’t listen to her. She will not be telling the police anything.”

  “I wasn’t—” he started, but he still wasn’t having any luck about getting in a word edgewise this morning.

  I talked right over him as I opened my apartment door. “You and I are friends, and we’re going to stay friends.” Silently excusing him, I stepped back to let him leave even as I looked him in the eye and murmured, “I’ll see you at two o’clock.”

  When he stared back, I had to hold in the urge to hug him. He looked devastated. Unable to help myself, I popped forward, lifted up onto my tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, since we seemed to be cheek-kissing friends now. He turned his face in just enough to make our skin brush for a second longer than necessary, causing heat and affection to roar through me.

  Neither of us spoke as I drew back. We stared at each other a moment, and then he nodded an
d left the apartment.

  After closing the door behind him, I turned to Eva slowly, ready to do whatever was needed to protect Mason. “I swear to God, E., if you do anything to hurt him—”

  Eva burst into tears. “Oh, shut up. I’m not going to hurt your precious gigolo. Jesus.” Burying her face into her hands, she sank onto my couch and began to rock herself back and forth. “I mean, I am worried about you, and I wanted to warn you away from him. But I was bullshitting. I just don’t want anything to happen to you, ReeRee. There’s still hope for you.”

  A little thrown by the tears because Eva was by no means a crier, like ever, I neared her slowly, not sure what to think of her overly dramatic, out-of-character outburst.

  With hesitant fingers, I reached out and touched her hair. “Eva?”

  She looked up. I don’t think she’d washed off her club-hopping makeup yet because huge black trails of eyeliner leaked down her face. “I messed up,” she sobbed. “I messed up big. And I don’t want the same thing to happen to you too. Be careful around him. Promise me.”

  Sitting beside her, I pulled her into my arms, “How did you mess up? What are you talking about?”

  Shit, if she confessed that she’d had sex with Mason, I was going to lose it.

  “I was…” She paused to sniff and wipe at her tears. “After seeing his Jeep here last night, I was going to come talk to you and warn you away from him anyway this morning. But I was going to wait until after he left. Then…then I woke up and was looking in my medicine cabinet for some aspirin when I spotted my tampons and realized…oh, God.”

  She buried her face into my shoulder and sobbed anew. I smoothed her hair out of her face and gently asked, “You realized what?”

  “I’m late.”

  My fingers froze in her golden locks. “What?” Just as quickly, I asked, “Who?” Please, God, not Mason. “Alec?”

  She sat up in order to glare at me. “Yes, Alec! I’m not that big of a slut. God.”

  Thank the Lord.

  I covered my mouth. “Oh, my God, Eva. Are you sure? Does Aunt Mads know? Are you—”

  “Of course I’m not sure! I just told you, I saw my tampon box, realized I was late, and I freaked. I came running straight to you and forgot about the gigolo until he strutted out of your bedroom. I’m sorry I attacked him again, okay? I know you’re still pissed after the last time, and I swore I was going to ignore him altogether from here on out, so you’d forgive me. But then I saw him, and it just seemed…easier to strike out than confess.”