Page 19 of Risk
I crossed a line with Mason that night and neither of us can go back now.
Shitty thing is, I’m more scared for him than I am for myself. He’s popular in a world I’m not part of. He’s name is everywhere.
“I won’t tell, if you won’t,” I promise. “I’ll sign an NDA if that makes you feel better.”
His jaw ticks, and I look down at my lap. The towel around my hand has a little blood on it. At least my guilt has squashed the pain I was in.
A knock at the door has Mason standing fast, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. That hurts my feelings too. “I’ll be right back.” He marches out of the bedroom and comes back seconds later with another man. “This is my neighbor, Chase.”
“Hi, Leah. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I need to uhhh…” Get out of Mason’s bed. “Get back to work.”
“Stay still. Let him look at you.” Mason puts his hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me back on the bed. “He’s a surgeon.”
How convenient.
“Let’s have a look.” Chase sits beside me on the bed. “May I?” He points at my hand.
I feel cagey. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Let’s be extra sure, okay?” Chase carefully unwraps my hand. I look away because the sight of blood makes me queasy, and I don’t want to faint again. “Can you make a fist?”
No problem.
“Good. Can you feel all your fingers?”
“Yes.”
He tips my hand back and forth, examining it. “You cut it on glass, correct?”
“Mmm hmm.” My cheeks heat because I feel Mason staring at me. This is awkward.
Chase frowns. “It’s a bit deep.”
Fear spikes in my system. “Does it need stitches?”
“Mmmmm. Given the location, I think butterfly closures will work. We can also glue it.” Chase covers the gash with the washcloth. “Is this your dominant hand?”
“No.”
“Good. Okay. I’ll be right back with supplies.” Chase leaves, and Mason and I stare at each other.
I don’t feel the pain in my hand anymore. With him looking at me like this, I barely feel anything but the heat pooling between my thighs.
Without warning, Mason moves closer. “Tell me to stop.”
“S-stop what?”
“Stop thinking what I’m thinking.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
He leans in until we’re dangerously close. “Yes, you do, Princess.”
My thighs clench. He’s right. I do. Because I’m thinking the same thing.
“He’s coming back any minute,” Mason says, half in warning, half in temptation. His hand slides up the back of my leg. It’s like being set on fire. “Does it still hurt?”