Page 37 of Mason

Something warm. Soft. Right in front of me.

Shelby shifts again, stretching her legs out, rolling her neck, and in doing so, she brushes against me.

I bite back a groan, tipping my head back against the couch, praying for an ounce of fucking self-control.

But she notices.

Her gaze flicks to me, eyes widening slightly, her lips parting like she wants to say something, but the words get tangled somewhere in her throat.

And just like that, the air between us shifts.

The exhaustion, the tension, the uncertainty of last night—it all melts into somethingelse.

Something charged…and dangerous.

She licks her lips, and my pulse fucking jumps.

I watch her. Study her. Wait to see if she’s going to say what we both already know.

Her breath is shallow, and every last bit of control I’ve been holding onto for hours snaps like a live wire.

She doesn’t realize what she’s doing to me.

Doesn’t realize that sleeping in my lap all night, pressed against me like shebelongshere, has been its own brand of torture.

I barely slept. I didn’t even try.

I just sat here, watching her, feeling her, my fingers in her hair, my mind unraveling piece by piece until my brain finally succumbed to mental exhaustion.

She shifts again, her head dragging against my cock, still heavy, aching, and I let out a breath through my nose, forcing restraint I don’t fucking have anymore.

We both feel it.

The thick, charged air, the way her body hasn’t moved away yet. The way she’s still watching me, pupils blown wide, pulse hammering at her throat.

I drag my knuckles down her arm, slow, deliberate, watching the way her skin breaks out in goosebumps.

“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” I murmur, my voice dropping low.

She licks her lips.

It’s the smallest movement, but it’s all the confirmation I need.

I grab her by the waist and flip her, pinning her beneath me.

She gasps, sharp, startled, but I don’t give her time to think.

I grip her wrists and shove them above her head, my weight pressing her into the cushions.

She should fight me.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she arches against me, her chest heaving, her body already softening beneath mine like she’s just been waiting for me to take control.

My lips curl, dragging my teeth down her jaw, lingering at the pulse pounding in her throat.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” I murmur, my breath hot against her skin.

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