“Bad dream,” I huffed, clutching my blanket to my chest even though I was still wearing his shirt.
“Why are you in the closet?”
My eyes danced around the small space, and I felt my body heat from embarrassment. “I used to hide in my closet when I was scared,” I admitted. “Old habits die hard.”
“Most kids are afraid of the monsters in their closets.”
“When I was little, the monster lived outside of it. It was my only safe space.”
I expected a witty retort, but he only nodded once before bending down and scooping me up in his arms. I slid my hands behind his neck and pressed my ear against his chest, the steady thudding of his heart calming my own. I closed my eyes, relishing in his kindness.
“Whoever did this to you –” His voice trailed off as I held myself tighter against him. “They can’t hurt you now.”
My body jerked as he stepped down. My eyes popped open as we descended the staircase.
“I’ll make you something to eat.”
“You don’t need to do that, and I can walk on my own.”
As we reached the bottom of the steps, he placed me on the ground, my toes touching the cold tile and causing me to shiver as I tugged at his large shirt. I wished I’d slipped on some shorts before we left my room.
“You look fine. I’ve seen many women in a lot less,” he replied.
“Is that supposed to ease my discomfort?” I asked, sneering at him. He continued through a maze of rooms to a large dining room.
“No. Just a fact. You could walk around here naked if you wanted. I wouldn’t care.”
I glanced down at the t-shirt. Was I really that plain that he wouldn’t even give me a sideways glance if I was naked?
“I get it. I know I don’t exactly look like the dancers you’re used to seeing every day.”
He turned to face me; his eyebrows pulled together before he gripped my waist and lifted me effortlessly onto the top of the table, his shirt I was wearing bunching at the top of my thighs. I gasped as he slipped between my parted legs with a grunt. I felt his length harden as he pushed against my center, his nose slid along my cheek as he inhaled like a feral animal. I shuddered as his fingers flexed against my hips, hard enough to marr my flesh with bruises.
“What I meant was I want you to make yourself at home. This is your place now, too, for as long as you want to stay. I never said I didn’t want to bend you over this table and eat you for breakfast.” His gaze dropped to where his hips settled between mine, his eyes smoldering as his fingers flexed. Heat pooled in my belly, pulsing between my legs. “And you’re right. You’re nothing like those other women. That’s not a bad thing, Beauty.” He took a step back as I struggled to steady my breathing. “But, I’m trying to be a fuckin’ gentleman.” His voice was even. How was he so calm, and I felt like my heart was about to beat its way out of my chest?
“Valient effort,” I choked out.
“Have a seat. I’ll grab some food.” He turned and walked out of the room without so much as a backward glance.
I slid off the edge of the table, tugging at the shirt before choosing a seat around the obscenely sizeable oval table. The chairs were so enormous that only my toes touched the ground.
A few minutes passed before Mason re-entered the room with a large bowl of fruit and a glass of orange juice. He sat them in front of me with a small smile.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to go through any trouble.”
“You had a lot to drink yesterday. You need to eat. How do you want your eggs?”
“However, you take yours is fine,” I shrugged as I grabbed a strawberry and bit off the end, unable to suppress a moan from how juicy it was. His eyes narrowed as he stared at my mouth, and my belly flipped.
“Raw?” The way he growled the word made my sex clench with need.
“Sure,” I sighed before clearing my throat, “Um... no, actually scrambled is fine.”
The right side of his mouth twisted up in a smirk. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I nodded, taking another bite, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. If I was going to be living with Mason, I needed to learn not to drool over him.
After I’d eaten more food for breakfast than I’d consumed all week, I helped Mason clear the table and wash our dishes. He was still wearing only his boxer briefs, and it was difficult standing next to him. I had to suppress the urge to reach out and trace the lines of his tattoos or to keep my eyes from wandering to the impossibly large outline of his package.
“You never told me why you got this place. Why a farm?”
He glanced over at me before shaking his head. “It belonged to my parents. It had been in their family for generations.”
“Wait, you said their family? Wouldn’t they be your family too?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t getting too personal too soon. “Just curious,” I shrugged.
“You’re not curious, you’re nosey,” he teased as he shook his head. “I was adopted.” There was no emotion in his tone.
“Oh. You were lucky.”
He scoffed, shaking his head again before turning around and leaning against the sink. “I went through six homes and lived on the streets before I ended up here. There was nothing lucky about my life.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean –”
“Belle, it’s fine. It was a long time ago. I spent most of my time in Conquest. It felt more like home than this place.”
I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I never knew the right thing to say to people in situations like this. “When I was little, I used to wish I would get adopted by a lovely family with grandmas and grandpas. I didn’t really know what it meant,” I shrugged. "But it just seemed like it would be... better.”
“Better than what?” he asked, his eyes locked on the side of my face as I rewashed the same dish over and over.
“Than my step-monster.” I glanced over at him now before quickly looking back down at the soapy water. “After my mother passed away, I couldn’t get away from him fast enough.”
“Is he the reason you would hide in the closet?”
“One of the reasons.” I nodded, not looking over at him.
“Where is he now?”
“Bloomington.”
“He better fuckin’ stay there,” he shot back, and I gasped before glancing over at him and nodding again.
“He’s no one you need to worry about.”
He eyed me for a moment, and I was worried he’d ask me more questions, but he let the subject drop. “Good.”
“You know... they make these wonderful new machines that do chores like this for you. It’s called a dishwasher.” I raised an eyebrow, and he smiled.
He walked to the other side of me, his chest brushing against my back and causing me to stiffen. He grabbed onto a hidden latch on the bottom of the cabinets, pulling open the built-in dishwasher that had blended in seamlessly with the cabinets. My mouth fell open.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask,” he replied with a shrug.
“How old are you, Mason?”
“Thirty-six. You?”
“Twenty.”
He rubbed his palm down his face. “I’m damn near old enough to be your father,” he teased, shaking his head.
“You’d need a bad temper and no morals to be my father,” I deadpanned.
He shook his head, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “You want to go for a ride?” He asked, his eyes drifting lower and causing me to tug at the hem of his shirt. “You’d have to put some pants on.” He shook his head. “Maybe we should just stay in.”
I slapped his arm playfully with my soapy fingertips.
“Careful,” he warned, sending heat radiating from my belly to every nerve ending in my body. His eyes narrowed, and I had to look away. “I like to fight.”
“I’ll go change.” I grabbed a dishtowel and dried my hands before throwing it against his chest. “You should go put some
clothes on too. Wouldn‘t want you to cause any traffic accidents.”
I hurried upstairs and dug through my bag, struggling to find something that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot. It didn’t matter what I put on; I would look like I was wearing a potato sack next to Mason.
SIX
THE RIDE OVER TO THE Ballroom was peaceful. The sunshine warmed my cheek as I held onto Mason. I didn’t want it to end, but moments later, we were in the alley behind his work. I tugged off my helmet, and he ran his fingers through my hair before tugging the ends playfully.
“I like this. My bike gives you a sexy, just fucked look. I’m kind of jealous.”
I struggled not to smile, but it was becoming increasingly impossible with the crass way he spoke. There were no hidden meanings with Mason. He said exactly what was on his mind, no matter how inappropriate.
“What are we doing here? Aren’t strip clubs during the day like apocalyptic?”
“I have to see how much we pulled in last night.” He eyed me for a moment.
“What?” I looked down at my shirt, wondering if I had a huge stain or something.
“You need a job, right?”
I laughed with such force I snorted. “I am not a stripper.”
“First off, there is nothing wrong with being a stripper. Do you have any idea how empowering it is for those women to get up on that stage and own their sexuality? Two, I didn’t ask. You’d never make it.” He dismissed me as he pulled open the back door and slipped inside of the building.
“Excuse me? You think I couldn’t do it? How hard is it to take off your top and shake your boobs to the rhythm?”
He spun around, clearly amused by my outburst. “You couldn’t do it because the stage fright would make you pass out, remember, Beauty?”
I rolled my eyes, folding my arms across my chest. “I was drunk.”
“Lucian,” he called out in a booming voice that caused me to startle. “Put a track on and crank it.”
The man across the room nodded before fumbling with a bunch of nobs in front of him. The music faded in, and the lights dimmed.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he sank down in a seat directly in front of the stage.
“I’m waiting for you to prove me wrong. Come on, Annabelle. Make me want you.” There was a playful glint in his eye, making my knees feel like Jell-O.
“You’re a dirty old man. You know that?” I stared at him for a long moment before shaking my head. “I’m not falling for your games.”
He only shrugged, staring up at the stage. “I told you. You don’t have an adventurous bone in that pretty little body.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I snapped, staring up at the silver pole.
Leaning back in his seat, his emerald eyes met mine. “I know you are running from a past that terrifies you so much that you left with nothing but the clothes on your back. I know you needed help so badly that you didn’t hesitate to trust a perfect stranger when I offered.”
“I didn’t –”
“It’s fine, Beauty. I’m glad you let me help you. I’m not trying to make you doubt yourself. But I also know, it takes guts to get up on that stage and right now, you don’t have the confidence. You have no clue how attractive you are.” He pushed from his seat and placed his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad I was right because I’d have to kick Lucian’s ass if he got to see you topless. I don’t like to share.”
“Good thing I don’t belong to you.” I smacked his chest playfully.
“You don’t need to be so fuckin’ defensive around me, ‘Belle. I’m the last person who would ever judge you. Trust me. I have skeletons of my own.”
He took a step back, his large hands on my shoulders as he looked me over. The pad of his thumb ran under my eyes to catch a wayward tear before it had a chance to break free from my lashes.
“Thank you.”
He smiled before letting his hands fall to his sides. “Now, if you want a job, I could have you trained to work the bar... shit, you’re not twenty-one yet.” His eyes narrowed, and I took a step back from him.
“What?”
“Give it to me.”
“Give you what?” I asked, making a face. He grabbed my messenger back that was slung across my chest and flipped the top flap open.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”
He held up my fake I.D. that said my name was Krista Malone, and my stomach fell.
“You used this to drink in my fucking club.”
I shrugged, looking anywhere but at his face. “So what? It was just a few drinks.”
“I could be shut down for this.”
“If the health inspector doesn’t get here first,” I shot back as he clenched his jaw, shoving the plastic card in his back pocket.
“You think this is a game? You have no idea...” his voice trailed off as the muscle in his jaw ticked. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked out. “I didn’t know you then, and I was just trying to have a night of fun.”
“Never again understood?”
I nodded, rolling my eyes as I clung to the strap of my bag. “Fine. Whatever. I ended up puking anyway.”
“No. I want to hear you say it,” he bit out. His muscles were tense and coiled like a viper ready to strike.
“It won’t happen again. I promise.”
He sighed, finally peeling his intense gaze from me. “We also have a cleaning crew, but I don’t want you touching whatever these perverts leave behind at the end of the night.”
I made a disgusted face, and he chuckled.
“What work experience do you have?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t really have any,” I winced.
His eyes narrowed, and he looked behind himself and back to me as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me correctly. “You’ve never had a job?”
“I’m young. I barely had time to do anything outside of college and running track.”
“I’ve been hustling since I could walk,” He ran his fingers through his hair before shaking his head. “You’re a runner, huh?”
“Yeah... I mean, I was. Until I ran here to get away from... everything.”
“Why didn’t you finish college?”
I looked to the ground as I shook my head.
“Beauty, it’s no big deal. You don’t need a degree to work in a place like this. I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“There’s not much to know.”
“What’s the deal with you and Cadence?”
“We grew up together. But I went to college, and she decided to settle down... with my high school sweetheart.”
“Seriously?”
I shook my head, finding it hard to believe myself. “It wasn’t a big deal. Roland wanted me to marry him. I wasn’t ready to settle down. So he moved on.”
“It wasn’t a big deal that your best friend is engaged to your ex-boyfriend?”
“What could I do about it?”
“Have you told her?”
I laughed nervously. “She was my best friend. She knew we had dated.”
“Does she know he still wants you?”
“What? He doesn’t –”
“I’ve seen the messages, ‘Belle.”
“How? You went through my phone?” I felt my cheeks begin to heat.
“You had passed out. Someone kept sending you messages. I thought maybe your friends were looking for you.”
“But... his name isn’t on my phone. The number is unknown –”
“It wasn’t hard to tell. The way he spoke to me, the look in his eye. Cadence saw it too.”
I shook my head, chewing on my lip. This isn’t a conversation I wanted to have with anyone, let alone Mason. “We have... a complicated history.”
“Is that what it is... history?”
“I’m over him. There is zero chance we could ever get back together.”
&
nbsp; “Maybe you should tell him that.” His eyebrow quirked, and I nodded. “Or tell her.”
“I couldn’t. It would break her heart.”
“Trust me. It’s better to know the truth.”
“You speaking from experience?” I couldn’t imagine someone like Mason Locke getting his heart broken.
“You’re not the only one with a complicated history.” The corner of his mouth twisted up in a smirk.
He cleared his throat as he looked around the room. “How are you with numbers? Could you help me do all the boring math stuff? We could put you out front as eye candy to lure men in?” He teased.
“I could help with the makeup and, you know, outfits? I've always liked to do that sort of stuff.”
“Most of the girls do their own thing, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the help. Okay. I’ll talk to them... on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You have to model the outfits for me.”
I’D BEEN IN THE GYM for three hours, my muscles burned, and I was coated in a thin veil of sweat. It felt good to push my body to the point of exhaustion. I couldn’t get what Annabelle had told me out of my mind. The only person she had to cling to was her friend who had stolen her boyfriend. The thought made my stomach turn. She couldn’t trust anyone. I knew that feeling. I should have wiped the smug look off that prick’s face when I had the chance. But it wasn’t my business. I had enough on my plate, and now I’d added Annabelle to the mess that was my life. But in the end, maybe we could help each other.
“You getting’ back in the octagon, man?”
I glanced up at Marcus, a former featherweight champion, as I drained the contents of my water bottle down my throat. “No.”
“I heard what Hunter said. That shit would drive me crazy.” He shook his head, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
I shrugged as I tossed my empty bottle into the recycle bin. “He can say what the fuck he wants.”
His eyes widened as he sank down on a bench across from me, shaking his head. “What the hell happened to you, man?”
“You know what happened.”
“No. I refuse to believe that Mason Beast from the East Locke let his entire career slide for some pussy.”
Breaking Beauty (Twisted Tales, #1) Page 4
