Page 8 of Boundaries

“I can’t imagine Boyd getting serious over any girl, but if he’s getting laid, good luck to him.”

I hated the fact that Mason had suggested sex was on the cards when all I’d been speaking about in the first instance was a bloody kiss! Yes, I’d raced on a bit but still. I certainly didn’t relish that thought.

There was no doubt about it, Boyd McKenna was a complete waste of space, stuffed neatly into a pair of designer jeans. He was the vainest of his brothers and honed his body in the gym rather than putting in any worthwhile graft. If he wasn’t out, he was usually vegetating in his room playing Grand Theft Auto and other shit violent Xbox games. He left the farmwork to his brothers and got away with doing fuck all basically.

I shoved my hands on my hips again and shook my head. I was devastated that he wasn’t intending on doing anything about a possible, brewing problem between our siblings.

I recalled his getting laid comment, “And no, not good luck to him, especially if he’s doing it with my sister. She’s only sixteen.”

From his impressive height, Mason shot me a lopsided smile and I wanted to thump him. “She’s still legal. Look, why don’t you just keep out of it. Fuck me, I had thought you only had a hard-on for Jenna, but it appears you’re obsessed with both your sisters. It’s unnatural, Amy.”

“Why because I care about them?”

“You care, a bit too much. You should focus more on your own life and stop stalking everyone else’s,” he suggested in a firm tone.

Cheeky git. He could have been right of course, but the day I admitted that Mason was right about anything would be, let’s see, never. I’d rather chew my own fingers off.

His cagey behaviour made me think it was Boyd and Chrissy and he was covering his brother’s back.

“If I find out any of your brothers are fucking with Chrissy, things will get ugly Mason,” I rallied up at him, planting my legs apart, my stance showing I was ready for action.

Mason stared down his perfect nose at me, his entire face betraying the fact that he found me funny.

“Bit on the titchy side to be making threats, aren’t you?” he grinned, being purposefully provocative.

“I’m stronger than I look,” I huffed, suddenly feeling warm. Had Mason moved closer or was I imagining it?

“You really don’t want to get into the ring with me sunshine,” he announced, flexing his shoulders again. His comment drew my thoughts to the fighting syndicate he and Nixon used to be part of.

“You still running that shit?” I questioned in an accusatory tone.

Mason and Nixon had set up a fighting club. It had started off as just the brothers in the ring. An excuse for them to settle their differences safely, as the rules used for professional fights had been adopted. Eventually, boys in the village had heard about the club and wanted to be part of it. Matches would then be held quite regularly until Mitchell McKenna had stopped them. Now the brothers only held fights when their parents were away.

Opponents were selected based on their body mass and experience to ensure a fair fight. Mattie said that money had recently started to exchange hands, with bets being placed on the possible victor. This, of course, had made the matches illegal.

I had witnessed one of the fights when I was younger. It was ugly stuff, seeing grown men dancing around a ring, hitting each other for kicks.

Mason and Nixon used an old horse training arena at the back of their house to hold the matches.

I thought it was dangerous. There had to be other sports that helped you deal with your shit more safely?

“Again, something else that is none of your business,” Mason replied flatly.

“You brought it up,” I pointed out with a sugary smile.

He exhaled noisily, “You make me want to forget my rule to never put my hands on a woman.” That comment sent a dart of heat through me. What the heck?

Recovering, I snapped, “Really? Bring it, dickhead,”

He shifted then, and boy he was fast. One of his strong hands shot out and gripped me roughly by my non-existent bicep, it didn’t hurt, but it shocked me. My mouth dropped open in surprise. Mason McKenna hadn’t touched me like this in years. He then yanked me forward until my chest was plastered against part of his. His body was like a steel girder and I could feel every sculptured section through the thin tank top I was wearing.

I panted in surprise, glaring up at him.

“Show me tough girl, free yourself,” he baited down at me, his eyes dancing with mischief. He was enjoying himself. But of course, he would be when he had the upper hand.

I struggled and attempted to pull away, using my free hand to try and prise his fingers from my arm. Air whooshed out of my mouth.

“Let go, how dare you touch me, beast,” I panted and I then slapped the palm of my free hand flat against his rock-hard chest. God his skin was warm.

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