Page 68 of Mason

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who would seek my brother’s approval,” she teases, running a lazy finger down my chest, her nails barely grazing my skin.

I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. “You know what I mean.”

She does. But she likes watching me squirm.

And for some reason, I let her.

I let her because she’s different. Because I, Mason Ironside, underboss of the Moreno family, feared by most, respected by all, am nervous as fuck about what Clay Monroe will think when he sees me with his sister.

And that right there? That tells me just how fucked up I am.

No other woman has ever made me feel this way. Not one.

Not the ones who warmed my bed for a night. Not the ones who begged for more and didn’t get it. Not the ones who knew exactly what they were getting into and still thought they could change me.

Because I never gave a damn what anyone thought before.

But Shelby? She’s different.

And for the first time in my life, I’m starting to wonder what the hell that means.

I watch her, my fingers still gripping her hips like I might anchor her to me if I just hold tight enough. But Shelby isn’t the kind of woman you hold onto easily—she’s like trying to catch a flame between your fingers. Too much pressure, and she’ll burn you.

Her lips curve, that knowing smirk playing across them as she runs a hand through her messy hair, the flush of our recent sins still painting her skin. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

And yet, here I am, still holding on.

“I’m serious, Shelby,” I say, my voice lower now, a slow, measured grit to it. “Clay’s not just your brother. He’s a good man—better than most. And I don’t think he’s going to like this.”

Her smile falters slightly, but only for a second before she tilts her chin up. “Well, then we’d better find a way to deal with that, hadn’t we?”

I blink. “What?”

She sighs, stretching her arms up, and it’s deliberate—a slow, lazy move that makes my jaw clench. “You act like you’re thebig, bad wolf, Mason, but you’re afraid of what my brother thinks?” She tsks, shaking her head. “You’re worried Clay might disapprove, when the truth is, you’re already looking for an excuse to push me away.”

I still.

That statement hits deeper than I like.

Because isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing? Telling myself this thing between us can’t last? Telling myself she’s just another mistake waiting to happen?

Shelby watches me closely, waiting for a response, and for the first time in my entire damn life, I don’t have one.

So instead, I do the only thing I know how to do.

I close the distance between us.

My hand moves to the back of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair as I tilt her head back. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Maybe I should be worried,” I murmur, my lips a breath away from hers. “Maybe Clay will take one look at me and decide I’m not good enough for you.”

Shelby’s hands flatten against my chest, her nails curling into the fabric of my shirt. “You think he would have sent you to deliver a message to me if he didn’t think you could be trusted? If there’s one thing my brother is good at, it’s reading people.”

I smirk. “You think he orchestrated this whole thing? Our meeting?”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t go that far. But Clay works in mysterious ways.”

I don’t answer, because in all honesty? I don’t fucking know if I’ve misread the jittery kid.

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