Page 55 of Rage

I consider deflecting, hiding behind a joke.But the tenderness in his gaze disarms me.“That I want to see you smile like that all the time,” I admit.

His eyes darken, something fierce and possessive flashing in their depths.“Keep looking at me like that,” he hisses, “and you just might.”

He brushes a stray hair from my face, his calloused fingers leaving trails of fire on my skin.

“Be right back, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

The mattress shifts as he stands.My eyes drink him in, all taut muscle and inked skin.Scars map his body, each one a story I long to hear.He stretches, muscles rippling beneath his tattoos.My mouth goes dry.

He pads to the bathroom, feet silent on the hardwood.The door clicks shut.Water runs.I close my eyes, savoring the lingering warmth of his body on the sheets.His scent surrounds me, leather and sweat and Mason.

My body hums with satisfaction, deliciously sore in new ways.I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache in muscles I didn’t know I had.A giggle bubbles up, unbidden.I clamp a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late.

“What’s so funny?”Mason’s voice, low and amused, comes from the doorway.

I open my eyes to find him leaning against the frame, a damp washcloth in hand.His lips quirk up in that crooked smile that makes my heart skip.

“Nothing,” I say, heat rising to my cheeks.“Just… happy, I guess.”

Mason’s touch is gentle as he cleans me, his eyes soft with tenderness.The damp cloth feels cool against my heated skin.I shiver, but not from cold.

“Thank you,” I murmur, suddenly shy under his intense gaze.

He tosses the cloth aside and crawls back into bed, pulling me close.I mold my body against him, savoring the warmth of his skin.

“No need to thank me, darlin’,” he rumbles, pressing a kiss to my temple.“Taking care of you is my pleasure.”

His words send a flutter through my chest.I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze.The intensity I find there steals my breath.

“Mason,” I start, not sure what I want to say but needing to say something.

He silences me with a soft kiss.When he pulls back, his eyes are dark and serious.“I need you to know something, Meadow,” he says, voice low and rough.“You mean so fucking much to me, you’re it for me.If you try to leave, I will just have to kidnap you.”

He says it so casually, but it doesn’t lesson the fact that he just said that I’m it for him.

My heart pounds.“You’re it for me too,” I whisper.

Mason’s arm tightens around me.“Good, because I don’t plan on letting you go.You’re mine now, Meadow.In every way.”

The possessiveness in his tone should scare me.Instead, it sends a thrill down my spine.I reach up, tracing the strong line of his jaw.

“Yours,” I agree, the word a promise.

His eyes flash with something primal.In one smooth motion, he rolls us so I’m pinned beneath him.

“Damn right.”

* * *

Warmth envelops me as consciousness seeps in.Mason’s body curls around mine, a living fortress of muscle and ink.His breath tickles my neck, slow and steady.I shift, stretching languidly, and freeze.His hand cups me intimately, possessive even in sleep.

Heat floods my cheeks.Memories of last night flash through my mind—his touch, his taste, the way he made me feel.My body responds, a slow burn kindling low in my belly.

Mason stirs, his fingers twitching against my sensitive flesh.A soft groan rumbles through his chest, vibrating against my back.His grip tightens, pulling me flush against him.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he rasps, voice rough with sleep and something darker.His lips brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine.“Sleep well?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.His thumb traces lazy circles, stoking the fire building within me.I bite back a whimper, torn between embarrassment and desperate need.

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