“What!?” Rose and I say in unison.
I speak first. “Um, yeah...after the whole thing at the party, we sorta ended up in my hotel room, and things got a little out of hand, and you know...we...fucked,” I say the last word almost at a whisper.
She moves to open her mouth and I stop her. “And, don’t say I told you so. Don’t even say a word. I’d rather you tell me how you ended up doing the horizontal mambo with McCarty.”
“There’s not much to say, B. He’s sweet. He’s a huge teddy bear. He’s a nice guy, and we talked for like an hour after you left. I ended up going to his place for a night cap, and one thing led to another. End of story.” She sounds pretty blissed out and I’m not going to judge.
“That’s great, Rose. I’m really happy for you.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, ok, so what happened last night? Tell me everything.” Woman is on a mission.
“Ugh, Rose, he’s just so....infuriating...and he’s arrogant, and I just wanted to bring him down a notch.” Am I making sense?
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I guess that answers my question. “You wanna bring him down a notch, so you fuck him? Explain that in regular people logic, please.”
“Rose, he’s high on himself, I figured if I showed him I was in control, that I would have him on my terms, he’d be knocked down a few pegs. Then I could totally reject him and move on.” Ugh, it doesn’t even make sense to me when I say it.
“Um...ooookay. I’m judging my your confused expression that it didn’t quite work out like you planned?”
“Not exactly. I woke up and he was gone; he left a note basically ordering to me to meet him at a cafe in Soho for our interview, but he didn’t even leave a number...so I can’t even cancel. Since I needed the story, I had to go.”
Rose looks surprised and quirks the side of her mouth upwards into a smile. I know that look. I hate that look.
“Wow. ‘Bella the Player’ got played,” she says, apparently amused by her own realization.
“Ugh, that’s not all....he kinda invited me back to his place. Her mouth drops open at this new revelation but I press on. “Rose, you’d die. He has this incredible flat overlooking the West End. He wanted to play his baby grand piano for me, since I asked him if he had any special talents and...”
“Woah, wait a minute,” Rose exclaims, “You went back to his place? Did you guys fuck again?”
“Well, no, we didn’t. We just talked a bit, he played a piece by Chopin and that was the end of it...why?”
Rose looks incredulous. “You went to a fuck-hot pro soccer player’s high-rise flat in Soho and you didn’t fuck each other again?”
“No, I didn’t want to, so I left.”
Again with the shocked face.
“B, I think you’re in for one hell of a ride here...but you’re so clueless. Maybe you should give this guy a chance...” I interrupt her before she has a chance to voice what I think she is going to say.
“NO Rose, not gonna happen. I’m not a relationship kinda girl, so get off it. It happened. He was a great lay, we had a great time, it’s done. End of story.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll drop it. Why don’t you get yourself ready; Em’s meeting us for lunch at a pub down the street. It’ll be a nice afternoon, you’ll see.”
“Ok, let me just hop in the shower, and I’ll be ready in 15 minutes.”
~*~*~*~EtS~*~*~*~
Rose and I walk to a neighborhood pub and meet Emmett almost as soon as we enter. His smile is infectious, his dimples giving him the boy-next-door look, until you see how big he is and realize he could probably pummel you in one shot. Emmett is probably one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met, and Rose drops the tough-girl façade as soon as they’re together.
“Hey there,” he whispers in Rose’s ear. She blushes and I turn away to give them a second of privacy, feeling like I’m intruding. Emmett doesn’t give me a chance to feel that way, though because he looks up to catch my gaze and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek.
“Hey Bella, it’s good to see you again. I got us all a table in the back, so we can go ahead and order some drinks while we wait.”
Rose looked at me wide-eyed as I asked, “Wait for what?”
“Not what; who. Masen called and I told him I was hanging out with you girls and he decided to tag along.”
At this point, I decide to play it cool and narrow my eyes towards Rose, willing her to keep her trap shut, “Oh, that’s cool, should be...fun.”
Rose decides to chime in, but she does looking like the cat that ate the canary, and in one instant I want to kill her.
“Yes, it should be a lot of fun. Bella just came back from interviewing Masen this morning.” Thanks, Rose.
“Really? How did that go? I bet he made you wait like a half hour before showing up, right? He’s always doing that shit...always acting like he can’t be bothered...” Emmett muses.
I’m a little stunned at his revelation, because it’s exactly the kind of behavior I assumed was Masen’s MO, and I had been proven otherwise when he’d been waiting for me.
“Um, actually he was already there when I arrived. We had an interesting conversation.”
Emmett looks a little taken aback be my statement, raising his eyebrows.
“Really....well...er...that’s great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him arrive anywhere on time. You must’ve made an impression on him last night.”
I spew out a little of the beer I attempt to drink, my mind immediately returning to the cocktail party, and the spectacular party of two in my hotel room. Rose pats my back gently.
“You alright there, sport?” she says slyly.
“Yeah...yeah....*cough* I’m ok. It just went down the wrong pipe.”
Just when I compose myself to continue the conversation I see Masen saunter up to our table, grab a chair noisily and sit down next to me.
Emmett starts, “‘Sup, Masen. We ordered you a pint, but no food yet. Hope you’re hungry...”
Masen gives me The Smirk and says, “Yes, I’m very very hungry, and I already know what tastes good.”
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.
I stare at him for a second in stunned silence before I’m able to compose myself enough to play along...
“Really, Masen, why don’t you enlighten us. What do you recommend?”
“I really love the fish ‘n chips here,” he says, not missing a beat.
“I take it you’ve sampled that dish a quite a bit then?” Take that.
“I’ll admit, I’ve had a few...but the one here, there’s something about it, makes you want to come back for more.”
Holy. Shit.
Emmett and Rose stare at us; Rose’s mouth agape, Emmett’s totally clueless. He breaks up the vibe in an instant, when the waitress comes by at that moment to take our orders. “This guy and I will have the fish ‘n chips, I’ve heard they’re the best around.”
Moments later, the banter between Masen and me has calmed down and we all enter into comfortable conversation. Masen seems almost....normal. We talk about the teams that are scouting him, eventually turning the conversation to movies and music. I’m surprised that we actually have a few favorites in common. I actually find myself having a good time. Emmett cracks a joke and Masen lets out the best laugh I’ve ever heard...that, along with his sexy grin, captures my gaze. I look away casually trying not to show my awkwardness with this situation. I’m never awkward, I always own the conversation, and now, in Masen’s presence, I can’t seem to put two coherent sentences together. Rose notices this; of course she does, and gives me a curious arched eyebrow.
“So Masen...” she starts.
“Edward, please...call me Edward.”
“Ok...Edward, Emmett tells me you suckered him into doing some philanthropy work with your foundation,” she gives me a knowing stare. “Why don’t you tell us more about it?” I hate you, Rose.
Apparently, Masen feels just as awkward talking about it as I feel hearing about it because he shifts uncomfortably, chancing a quick glance for my reaction while trying to explain.
“Well, um...it’s not a big deal. It’s um, I just put together a few soccer clinics for the local orphanages in the area...I...”
“Dude, you do more than that...you own two different soccer camps for the kids here,” Emmett pipes in, going on to explain more to us. “Every season, he rounds up a few of us in the off-season and we run soccer clinics, like training/drill sessions for kids with no permanent home. They get picked through a lottery system from the ones that apply. We actually had one kid who’s like a natural talent...we’re trying to get him scouted to Arsenal’s junior league.”
I sit there in silence taking it all in. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Masen runs a foundation? And he works with kids? My ovaries just woke up and high-fived each other, which is odd because they’ve been dormant for the last seven years. This conversation is turning out to be very enlightening. Putting together all I know about Masen so far, things are not adding up at all. My initial appraisal of Masen was that of a world-class player, devoid of feeling or heart, and a grade ‘A’ arrogant ass. But now, between the post-coital snuggling, and the piano, and the foundation work, I have no idea what to think of him. I usually have guys all figured out. He’s so confusing.
Adding to the confusion is how he’s looking at me while Emmett’s telling the story of how he started it all. It seems most of the players on the team have participated. Masen’s eyes are cautious, bright, green as grass, and searching- at me. Almost like he’s looking for my approval.
“Wow, that’s amazing, Edward. But what’s going to happen to it when you leave for the States? Who takes over?” Rose asks.
“Most likely, it will still continue to run without me physically being there. I have very capable directors that can keep things rolling along. I’ll probably start another branch wherever I end up.”
I want to say something, anything, but I can’t find the words, because my mind is so truly fucked up I have nothing of value to say. Masen must think I’m not interested or impressed, because he looks down towards his meal in disappointed silence while Rose and Emmett continue onto the next topic.
“Shit, B, You gotta try this, it’s gotta be the best risotto I’ve ever had,” claims Rose, presenting a forkful in front of me. I take it willingly and moan with delight. It’s cooked perfectly, and the sauce is perfectly seasoned.
“Wow, that is good. I think you’re right.”
Masen snorts, “whatever, I could make risotto in my sleep.”
I think he’s joking. “Yeah, ok, Masen. Have you ever had it here?”
“Yes, I’ve practically had everything on the menu here, and I can say confidently; I make it better.”
Emmett backs him up quickly, “Seriously, Bella, he’s right. Edward’s serious business in the kitchen. Man’s got skills.”
My experiences with Edward in the bedroom confirm how talented he is...and I’ve also seen him kill it on the field, so I can’t argue there either. But I think he’s were a culinary genius, I might as well throw in the towel and jump him right here in the restaurant. Of course, I cannot show what effect this man has on me, so I play it cool.
“Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it,” I say, suddenly conscious that I’m goading him.
“Is that a challenge, Swan?” Masen cocks an eyebrow my way, his green eyes crystal clear.
I stare right back, “Well, ok...yes....why not. It’s a challenge.”
“Then, I’ll cook for you tonight. Be at my place at seven.” Again with the demands.
The old Bella, the more badass Bella would tell him to fuck off with his ordering me around. But the new Stupid Bella is finding it hard to say ‘no’ to him. My brain is very frustrated with me.
“Fine.” Crap. I can’t believe I just agreed to this!
“Fine.”
“You’ll be in shock, Bella, I’m telling you. Masen’s talented,” Emmett laughs at what’s transpired.
“We’ll see. I’ve yet to see anything to write home about.” Ha! Masen smirks and says with a totally straight face, “Well, that’s because I wasn’t even trying.”
That does it.
“Then, if this is a challenge, I expect the very best tonight.” Wait, are we still talking about food?
“Oh, you can count on it, Swan.”
Emmett laughs loudly at the scene before him, “Well then, this should be interesting.”
Rose has a smile on her face and lightly taps my leg under the table. She knows me pretty well, and knows what I’m up to. I don’t react to the nudge and instead turn the conversation to other topics. I’m going to have to deal with Rose and her not-so-subtle reactions another time.
~*~*~*~EtS~*~*~*~
After lunch, we all go our separate ways and Rose and I return to our hotel. I take a couple of hours to type out my article and email it to Ben in New York. I’m actually pretty pleased with my interview with Masen and I think it will finally get me noticed at the paper, and maybe get me some more assignments.
I start to replay some of the things Masen and I talked about. I’m honestly at a loss at all the contradictions this man displays. His reputation as sort of a man-whore is pretty well-established, and I can attest to his arrogance. But there are a few points of contention that are currently making me a little confused. Is this whole cocky soccer player thing an act? What’s he hiding? Why would he perpetuate this general public opinion of him, when he’s apparently so much more than he lets on?
I decide to do a little digging after finishing the article, and I come across the website for his foundation. There’s hardly any mention of him anywhere. The website lists him as one of the clinic leaders. The name, Masen-Cullen Foundation, is the only clue as to his involvement. Strange. Most celebs love to have the spotlight on them when they get involved in charities, yet Masen has, it seems, taken a more silent role. I wonder why.
I also uncover that his father, Dr. Carlisle Cullen, is a very well-known orthopedic surgeon in Chicago, and he’s one of the Chicago Bulls’ team doctors. Wow. Mom, Esme Cullen runs her own interior design firm.
I close my laptop and sit there contemplating everything I’ve heard and read, and I’m more confused about Masen than I was before the interview. I decide not to dwell, since I have a date with him in a few hours, and I have just enough time to take a nap, shower, and get ready. Is it a date? The thought fills me with panic...and excitement, if I’m being perfectly honest. Rose already told me she’s staying in with Emmett, so I’m totally on my own tonight.
After showering, I dress in a sexy dark blue, one-sleeved top and black skinny jeans. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and slip my black flats on and head out the door. After a short taxi ride, I check in with the front desk in the lobby. I’m ushered into the elevator immediately and I’m at his door in no time. He’s left it slightly ajar, an invitation to just come right in. As I enter, I lightly tap on the door and call out his name. I hear some nice ambient music in the background and the lights are somewhat dimmed all around me. The delicious smell of basil and garlic fills the air.
I hear him shout from the kitchen, “Come on in, make yourself at home.”
I walk around his flat, taking in more details than I had the last time I was here. Pictures of him with his family are strewn on bookshelves and on walls, but besides a few abstract prints, the place is pretty minimalist and comfortable. I decide to join him in the kitchen, and what I see when I get there almost paralyzes me with lust.
There he is in a long sleeve, black v neck sweater, low-slung worn out jeans, a black apron, and barefoot. His back is facing me and he hasn’t noticed my presence, or at least I don’t think he has, so I take a seat on one of the barstools and take him in, just like I did at the cafe. His hair is its usual mess of light brown, the lights from the kitchen making his copper highlights shine like fire. I’m entranced by how smoothly he moves around, stirring, slicing, reaching into overhead cupboards; it’s all too much for my senses.
“See something you like?”
I nearly fall out of my seat as he looks over his shoulder and gives me a mini version of The Smirk.
Ok, I can do this.
“Actually, I’m eyeing that Pinot next to you. Is that for us?”
“Sure, grab a glass, it’s in the cabinet over there next to the fridge,” he directs me with his chin.
I take out two goblets and place them on the counter, while I hear him open the bottle. As I’m trying to control my erratic breathing, he’s suddenly behind me, the warmth of his breath tingling my neck.
“Say when.” He starts pouring the wine over my shoulder, his mouth inches away from my ear. I’m lost in a frenzy of chills and goosebumps before I notice my cup is being filled almost to the brim. “When! When.....” I manage to say, barely.
I can feel him smile against my ear as he closes the gap between our bodies enough for me to feel him....all of him. But before I can totally humiliate myself and turn around to let him take me right here in the kitchen like the whore I seem to be, he’s gone. I turn to see him back to stirring. How is he doing this to me? I’m a puddle...like seriously, I can’t function when he’s around. Has he noticed? Is he playing me, ‘The Player’ herself? Or is he just unaware of the affect he has on me?
I sit back down on the stool and he starts to plate our dishes.
“Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat at the table, I’ll be right there.”
“Um, ok, you don’t need any help?”
“Sure, why don’t you take the garlic bread that’s here on the counter and the salad that’s in the fridge with you?” he says, gesturing to the steel-grey appliance in question.
Bread? Salad? Really?
I do as I’m told and a few minutes later he appears with two piping hot plates of
something that smells divine. He proudly places my dish in front of me and I can’t help but giggle at how seriously he’s taking this.
“This actually smells really good, what is it?”
“Roasted chicken with risotto and caramelized onions,” he says smugly.
He then raises his glass and waits for me to raise mine, “To possibilities and surprises.”
I am caught off guard by his toast, but clink our glasses together nonetheless. I then tentatively take my first bite, as Masen watches; I can almost swear he is looking at my lips as I pull the fork away from them.
Fuck. He’s right. This is the best fucking risotto I’ve ever tasted. And now I have to admit to it. Could I lie? Sure, I could tell him I’ve had better. But he’s being as gracious as he can be, and I don’t think I have the heart to put him down.
“Wow, that’s really really good. I’m impressed.”
“Better than anything you’ve ever tasted?” He knows what the answer was, he just wants me to admit it.
“Um, yes...ok, I’ll admit it. It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”
And surprisingly, he doesn’t look smug; not cocky, not conceited, just content. He looks happy to have done something to please me (as if he didn’t do enough of that the other night).
The rest of the night passes in comfortable conversation, smiles, and subtle flirting. He tells me a bit more about his upbringing, speaking of how integral his parents were to him not ending up a screw-up. I tell him about my life in a small town in Washington, where my dad is chief of police, how I spent my summers with my mom in Phoenix, visiting my grandma. Then, when I ask him why his last name is Masen, not Cullen like his parents, he says something I’m not expecting.
He hesitates in his response. Then, he looks at me, his eyes almost evergreen and searching, “I’m actually adopted. My real parents died when I was seven in a car accident. My mother, Elizabeth, was Esme’s best friend and had named her and Carlisle guardians should anything happen to her and my father. They’ve been my rock ever since. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me had they not been there.”
I am silent. I don’t know what to say. Masen just smiles rather sadly, “Sorry to bring you down with that, it wasn’t may intention. I didn’t actually think I would even talk about that tonight. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I mean, I’m flattered you feel you could talk to me about that. I’m actually really happy for you. You’ve been blessed. I’m sure they love you very much.” Ok, this is getting a little heavy and a bit too personal.
Masen takes a deep breath, and decides to break the weighted aura around us by picking up our plates and heading for the kitchen. I have a moment to reflect on what just happened. He let me in to a very personal part of his life. Why? And why am I secretly thrilled at the prospect that he trusts me enough to talk about it? I just met this guy; I don’t allow myself to get close enough to men like this. There’s something about him though. I can’t put my finger on it. Before I can continue to analyze, he’s back with homemade tiramisu. He’s trying to kill me.
He scoops a piece onto a plate and offers it to me in silence. I thank him quietly and tuck into it. It’s delicious. All the while, he’s staring at me intently, as if decoding a message.
“So, you and Alec....how’s that going?”
Well, that’s abrupt.
“There is no me and Alec. We had a good time: it’s over. You of all people should be very familiar with that routine.”
“You think so? Don’t believe everything you read, Swan.” He looks kind of miffed at my assumption.
“Well, then what’s up with Barbie....what was her name, Tara?”
He snorts, “Her name’s Tanya, and nothing’s up with Tanya. She left yesterday before we....” He trails off, and looks at me cautiously, not knowing if the subject was off limits.
“So you guys are done?”
He answers curtly, “Like you said so eloquently, we had a good time, it’s over. It’s that familiar routine you seem to know as well.”
Well, he got me there.
There are minutes of awkward silence before he stands and makes his way to clear the table. I offer to help, but he shoos me away and tells me to relax in the living room. When he finally makes it back, it’s with two goblets, freshly filled with wine.
“Would you mind playing that Chopin piece again? I really like it.” I don’t know where that comes from. Maybe the wine is fucking with me, but I really want to see and hear him play again.
He silently nods with a shy smile and before heading to the piano, offers his hand to me, making me stand up and follow him. The strange buzz between us whenever we touch is there again, and this time, it’s strangely comforting. He brings us to the instrument so that I’m leaning against its side, and he sits down at the bench. As soon as he starts to play, my mind goes right back to my grandmother; how she’d play this for me all the time, trying to get me to learn. She soon realized I didn’t have a musical bone in my body, and was content to just let me listen.
I wake up from my reverie and look at him. He is so engrossed in the piece and his brow is furrowed in deep concentration, eyes closed. It’s one of the sexiest things I have ever seen, and I’m drawn to him. My body reacts involuntarily and I sit next to him on the bench, my eyes travel from his beautiful face to his long, graceful fingers and I’m done. The music ends and there and the room is completely silent, and I close my eyes.
The next thing I feel is his soft, warm lips lightly skim my neck from below my ear to the junction of my shoulder and back up again. I let out a soft moan and it serves to spur him on. He reaches his hand up, and takes my chin and turns my face to his and just like that his lips are on mine. He’s tentative at first, sweetly licking and sucking on my bottom lip, in a silent request for entry. I’m so lost in my sensations that I lose all inhibitions and grab the back of his neck, opening my mouth to his and grabbing onto his mess of hair.
He groans into my mouth and I turn my head slightly, plunging my tongue into his hot mouth. His hands start to roam from my neck to my shoulders, until he’s grasping at my hips roughly. There’s not use to denying how crazy he’s making me and I swiftly swing my leg to straddle him on the bench. His hard cock presses up against me and I know I’m as wet as can be. He slowly dips forward until I’m pressed up against the keys; soft and hard notes randomly sound into the otherwise silent room. He breaks from our kiss and dips his head, placing wet passionate, open-mouthed kisses all over my neck, chest, and finally the swell of my breasts. I find myself grinding against him without control and just when I feel him start to pick me up; I figure to take me to his bedroom, my phone rings.
“Don’t you dare fucking answer that,” Masen says against my breast.
“I have to....It might be....ohhhhhhh....it could be Rose...or.....ahhh, oh god...or it could be work” I croak out in my lust-filled haze.
He slowly stills his movements, still placing small pecks on my neck, until I gently push off of him to grab my phone in my purse. It’s Ben.
“Bella Swan.” It comes out in a rushed exhale.
“Bella! Hey did I catch you at a bad time?”
I look apologetically to Masen, who’s staring at me, head resting on his elbow, which is planted on the keys. He looks annoyed and very aroused.
“No, Ben, I’m alright. What can I do for you? Did you get the article?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I wanted to call you about. It was brilliant, Bella. Everyone loves it. The editor wants you to stay in London for another two weeks with Rose. Basically, you’re staying until this whole MLS scouting business is finalized. He wants Rose to continue reporting on the talks and you’re going to assist her as always, but you’re more than welcome to help her out with the writing too.”
“Oh, wow, Ben...that’s...that would be great. I’m so glad he liked it. I assume you’ve already told Rose?”
“Yep, and she’s on board, and is very happy you’ll be staying. I’ll email you more details tomorrow morning, alright? But Bella, I just wanted to say, I’m really proud of you.”
“Aw, thanks Ben, I really appreciate the opportunity.”
“Ok, well, talk to you soon then.”
“Thanks again, Ben....good night.”
The call ends and I feel a wave of pride that’s hard to suppress. My smile must tip Masen off because in a second he’s right next to me, putting his arms around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. His lips are at my ear.
“Good news?”
“Yeah, that was the paper. They loved your interview. They extended my assignment here another two weeks. I’ll be able to do a little more writing besides assisting Rose.”
I can feel his smile as he nuzzles my neck and I momentarily turn my head to give him more access. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, and for a split second, I consider saying yes. But I realize this is all too much, too soon. My head suddenly yells at me to run for the hills; this is not what I do...whatever this....thing...is. I stiffen in his arms and he notices, slowly dropping his arms from me and staring down towards the floor.
I feel terrible shooting him down, but I’m not used to connecting with someone like this. He was supposed to be just a fuck, like all the others. So why do I feel like shit?
I shift uncomfortably in my spot. “Listen, Masen...I’m not good at this. I...look, I already told you what happened between us was just a one-time thing...I can’t afford...”
“Calm down, Swan. I’m not asking you to marry me, I just thought you might’ve wanted to stay tonight. I mean, what happened a few minutes ago....I just thought...” He looks like a little boy who’s lost his puppy.
“Right. I know, it’s completely my fault. I’m sorry I lead you on to think that there was more. But, I don’t fuck someone more than once, and this is just really inconvenient for me right now.” Fuck, this rambling is so not me. I don’t know what’s happened to confidant Bella, but she has left the building, apparently. I really do want to stay, and fuck him until we both pass out. Just the thought of starting from where we left off at the piano has me wet again, which is starting to get quite uncomfortable. But my brain will not shut off my defense mechanism.
He nods, still looking at the floor, and I feel like a cold-hearted bitch. This is a side to Masen I didn’t think existed. I need to mend this situation, pronto.
“I probably should be heading home anyway, I have a long day tomorrow. But...um...I think I’ll be checking out that cafe again in the morning...I really liked their scones and stuff...so...if you...I don’t know, have nothing else to do tomorrow morning, and you want to meet up...I’ll be there.”
He looks up, narrowing his eyes at me, but a smile slowly appears. Then, the Masen I know quickly turns the smile into The Smirk. “See? I knew you couldn’t get enough of me...I’m irresistible.”
I roll my eyes, but I somehow get the vibe he’s just messing with me, so I smile back.
“Yeah, well maybe I’m just using you so I don’t have random guys pestering me in the cafe tomorrow morning.” I joke.
“Yes, that would suck. I guess one guy pestering you is enough, isn’t it?”
“Oh, so you admit to pestering me?”
“Absolutely not. I was talking about Alec.” Oooohh, low blow there, mister.
“Well I’m sure if Alec decides he has a death wish and tried to talk to me again, you’ll be there to mark your non-existent territory, right? You men and your pissing contests.”
And just like that he grabs my hips and pushes me against the wall...boy, this guy likes walls.
We lock eyes and he looks at me with dark intensity, lips merely centimeters away from mine. “Trust me, Swan, by the end of your stay, you’re going to want me to claim you as my territory.” He then kisses me with such force that I think I’m going to faint from its power and my hormones going all wonky. My hands travel to his hair again against my will, and my body reacts with every nerve ending going haywire. This is not normal. I have to stop this.
I don’t have to stop it though, because he pulls away from me, his hand blindly reaching for the door knob that’s next to us and doesn’t even break away from his gaze upon me. The door opens and just like that, he’s the picture of a gentleman. He moves to the side to allow me to exit, and I’m caught off-guard at the mood swing.
I take a couple deep breaths and when my pulse is normal again I speak.
“Um....thank you...for the dinner, it was delicious. You proved me wrong tonight.” If he only knew how wrong I was on so many levels.
“It was my pleasure. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Let me walk you down.”
“No, no...that won’t be necessary, I’ll just have the doorman hail me a taxi. Maybe I’ll....see you tomorrow then?” I don’t want to sound too hopeful, I can’t afford for him to get any ideas that I want to keep seeing him, which I guess I do...no...I know I do...want to see him...again.
He just smiles at me and kisses me gently on the forehead; another first for me. That one gesture turning me into a little teenager, and I sigh.
“Well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, Swan.” And just like that, the door gently closes, and the evening is over.
On the taxi ride home, I reeling from all the mixed emotions I’m feeling. Masen continues to baffle me, and every time I think I’ve got him figured out, he manages to confuse me even more.
I’m in my hotel room again and after a long, hot shower, which includes getting myself off to images and memories of the hot, cocky soccer player, I drift off to sleep. Tomorrow should prove to be interesting. As it turns out, when Masen is involved, nothing is ever boring.
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