Page 15 of Rage

As I drift off to sleep, images of Mason’s intense gaze and the feel of his lips against mine fill my mind.The night replays in vivid detail, the exhilarating motorcycle ride, the breathtaking view, and the passionate kisses we shared.My body still tingles from his touch.

Morning comes too soon, sunlight streaming through my curtains and rousing me from my slumber.I blink groggily, reaching for my phone to check the time.My heart skips a beat when I see a text from Mason.

Good morning, beautiful.Ready for breakfast?I’ll pick you up in an hour.

A giddy smile spreads across my face as I type out a quick reply.I practically leap out of bed, suddenly wide awake and buzzing with anticipation.

I rush through my morning routine, taking extra care with my appearance.I settle on a casual but cute outfit, snug jeans and a soft sweater that shows just a hint of cleavage.As I’m applying the finishing touches to my makeup, I hear the rumble of a motorcycle outside.

My stomach does a backflip as I open the door to find Mason leaning against his bike, looking like sin incarnate in a leather jacket and dark jeans.His eyes roam appreciatively over me before meeting mine with a smoldering gaze.

“Morning, darlin’,” he drawls, pushing off the bike and sauntering toward me.“Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady as he draws near.“You?”

Mason’s lips quirk into a smirk.“Dreamt of you,” he murmurs, leaning in to brush a kiss against my cheek.His stubble rasps against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.“Ready to go?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.He opens one of his saddle bags and pulls out a leather jacket with the tags still on it.He unzips it, holding the jacket open for me to slide it on.

“What’s this for?”I ask him and slide the jacket on.He gently tugs my hair out of the collar.

“I prefer your skin the way it is, angel.”He winks and climbs onto the bike, his jeans pulled tight around his thighs, and I swallow hard, trying not to run my hands down them.

Mason helps me on next, his hands lingering on my waist.As we speed off to get breakfast, I can’t help but wonder what other surprises this day might hold.

The ride across town only takes around fifteen minutes and as we enter the diner, the aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon hits me like a wave, causing my stomach to growl annoyingly loud.Mason’s hand on my lower back sends tingles up my spine.He guides me to a corner booth, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“Well, if it isn’t Mason,” a warm voice calls out.An older woman with laugh lines around her eyes approaches us.“And who’s this lovely lady?”

Mason’s arm drapes over my shoulders, casual but possessive.“This is Meadow, Cindy.Meadow, meet Cindy.Makes the best damn pancakes in town.”

“Nice to meet you, Meadow,” Cindy winks.“About time this boy brought a girl around.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks.Mason’s low chuckle vibrates through me.“Only the special ones, Cindy,” he says, his eyes locked on mine.

Cindy takes our order and leaves us alone.The silence stretches, comfortable but charged with electricity.I sip my coffee, hyperaware of Mason’s presence across from me.

“So,” he leans back, a glint in his eye.“Did you really sleep like a baby, or were you too busy thinking about our kiss?”

I nearly choke.“Confident, aren’t we?”I try to hide the grin behind my mug that is threatening to break through.

Mason’s grin widens.“Just honest, darlin’.I know I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

The door chimes from behind me, and I turn around to see if it’s anyone I recognize, and what do you know.

Dr.Peterson is walking in, wearing his doctor’s coat.I turn back around but his slimy eyes are already on me, I can feel the weight of it as his gaze creeps along my skin.

Mason’s eyes narrow as he follows my gaze.His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.“Friend of yours?”he asks, his voice deceptively casual.

I shake my head, facing him fully now.“Not exactly.That’s Dr.Peterson.He’s… not my favorite person at the hospital.”

Mason’s eyes darken, his posture shifting subtly.He leans forward, his voice low.“Has he been giving you trouble?”

I hesitate, not wanting to cause a scene.“Nothing I can’t handle.He’s just… creepy sometimes.”

Mason’s hand covers mine on the table, his thumb tracing circles on my skin.The gesture is comforting, but I can feel the tension radiating from him.“Meadow,” he says, his tone serious.“If anyone’s bothering you, I want to know about it.No one messes with what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends a tremble down my spine.Part of me wants to protest that I’m not his possession, but a larger part loves his protectiveness.

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