Page 8 of King of Sinners

Charlotte

“Charlotte,” Mason grits out again. But this one is different. Rougher. More emotional. His hands are under my armpits and he’s dragging me to my feet.

He activates the fight that’s pure instinct. Maybe the running had taken it out of me. I don’t have much to begin with. It’s why Gus can always get me to take the extra shifts.

Why I drank so much that night I wanted to end things with Leo.

But I’ve found it now, and as he pulls me up, I kick out, afraid of what he’s going to do.

What he does, is pin me to his chest. Arms around me like a vise, one around the small of my back, one across my thighs, my boobs are pressing into his face. I could scratch at his eyes, but I’ve already realized the futility of fighting.

I’m never besting this man. He neutralized me in an instant. Not that he’s hurting me. His arms are almost a comfort tonight.

My fight ends as quickly as it began and instead of raking fingernails down his face, I find myself holding his head in my hands, my fingers winding into the silky strands of his hair. I look down at him, tears filling my eyes for the first time tonight.

One slips out, balancing on my eyelashes before it tracks down my cheek.

“Fuck,” he curses.

But I only dig my fingers deeper into his scalp. The strong hard planes of his body feel ridiculously good. Maybe I’ve gone mad, but I want to sink deeper into him. “Please,” I beg. “Don’t give me to them. At least if it’s you I know—” My throat clogs and I can’t get any more words out.

“Know what?” He sounds like the crunching of broken glass.

“It’ll be quick and painless. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you, Mason?” I think I might be getting hysterical because my words come out between little puffs of air, my lungs struggling, and I’m holding him like a raft in a storm. “Please,” I ask again. “Please don’t give me to strangers.”

His arms tighten about me, his hands spreading out on my back and bare thighs. “I’m going to put you down,” he speaks slowly, like he might be talking to small child. “And you’re going to stay right where I leave you.”

I nod. I’m not running. There’s no point. But I can’t quite let go of him either, my hands still buried in his hair. There is a second thing about Mason that is soft. His silky mass of dark, wavy hair.

Without meaning to, I curl around him, my cheek resting on the top of his head. He holds still, allowing me this moment. I think I might be drawing from the well of his strength. I’m going to need it for whatever comes next.

Finally, he loosens his grip, lightly bending to set me on my feet. I try to relax my hands to let him go, but it takes me a second, two, to unclench my fingers enough to untangle them from his hair.

When I’ve finally untangled myself, he steps over to Roman, the two of them speaking so softly that I can’t hear them. I only catch the low rumble of their voices, such a pleasant baritone that I close my eyes and just enjoy.

Men who are that devilish shouldn’t be allowed to sound like that. Warm, rich, it’s like the liquid in Mason’s glass.

I open my eyes then. How did I not notice he’d set the crystal on the table two feet to my right?

Taking a step toward it, I pick up the glass and draw in the scent. Whisky. Really nice whisky.

Without asking, I take a sip, and then another. This isn’t like me at all to just take something, but then again, today is not a normal day. It burns but in the smoothest way I’ve ever experienced, the liquid soothing my throat and spreading warmth through my body.

“Let’s go.”

I look up, Mason has joined me again, his body so close, I can feel his heat. Or maybe that’s the whisky.

“All right.” I start to set the glass down, but he reaches for my hand, wrapping his much larger fingers around mine. I wish I had my camera. The visual of his large hand engulfing my small one around the crystal snifter is stunning and I stare as he brings the glass to his lips, taking another drink.

Our hands still wrapped together, he brings the glass to my mouth. “Go ahead.”

I take another drink, the liquid sliding over my tongue as my eyes flutter closed. I’m determined to enjoy every tiny, beautiful moment as I take one more sip.

He takes the glass from my hand and for a moment we just stand there, close but still.… I have no idea what he’s thinking.

Finally, his hand comes to my back. “Let’s go.”

Do I even ask where? I don’t. I just allow him to lead me back to the elevator and down to the parking garage.

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