Page 50 of Mason
I catch her in my arms, and immediately know how badly she was affected by this by the way her body shakes. “Baby, shhh. I’m here.”
The moment I say it, I know I’ve fucked up. I don’t know that she noticed, because she’s practically burrowed herself into my skin, but I definitely called herbaby, and it hits me hard. While mentally kicking myself, I hold her tightly because that seems to be what she needs from me. The sweet, fruity scent of her shampoo, the feel of her body against mine—it’s enough to knock me for a loop.
When her breathing normalizes, and I think she can handle it, I ease her out of the bathroom, then tip her face up so I can have a good look at her. What I see is gut-wrenching. Her face is puffy from crying, and I cup her face in my hands, then gently sweep my thumbs under her eyes, collecting the moisture.
“Don’t.” She blinks rapidly, her eyelashes spiky with tears.
My brow furrows. “Don’t what?”
She takes in a shuddering breath. “Don’t be nice to me. It’ll make it hurt worse when you go back to being my dickhead stepbrother.” She wets her lips, and I have the errant thought that she’s probably tasting the salt of her tears.
Why do I want to sweep my tongue over her lips and find out what they taste like?
My eyes home in on those pouty lips of hers. Ones I’d kissed in anger. It would be a huge mistake to repeat that. Ever. I release her face, bringing my hands down to her shoulders. “What can I do? Are you okay? Should we head home?”
She nods, motioning to the bathroom. “My bag is in there.”
“I’ll get it.”
She sucks in a wet breath. “O-okay.” I can tell she’s trying so fucking hard to shake off what happened in there but is having trouble doing so.
With her bag in hand, I pick mine up off the floor and sling both over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“I can carry my bag.” She holds her hand out.
I give a single shake of my head, letting my eyes fall shut as my jaw grinds. “Stella. Just let me carry your fucking backpack, okay?”
She takes a deep breath. “Fine.”
“Focus on yourself. Breathe.”
For a second, based on the indignant look on her face, I think she’s going to argue, but then she thinks better of it. An internal laugh threatens to bubble up to the surface. How does one argue with breathing? I guide her to the stairwell, and we walk down and out of the building, no words exchanged at all.
Once we’re heading for the parking lot, Lennon breaks the silence, looking at me from the corner of her eye as we walk. “Thank you for coming for me. I kinda thought maybe you wouldn’t.”
I frown. “I’m not inhuman, Lennon.”
“How do I know that? Who’s the real Duke? The one who trash-talked me this morning in front of an entire brotherhood that I’ve been forced to live with and who implied I’m spreading my legs for all of you? Or the concerned guy who came to my rescue and held me until I calmed down?” She stops in her tracks, tugging on my arm so I’ll face her. She cocks her head to the side, studying my face way too carefully for comfort. “Which is the real you, Duke? The bastard or the nice guy?”
With a curl of my lip, I do what I need to do to keep her far away from me. I know what I’m about to say will destroy any confidence she had living in the house with us. But maybe if I push her hard enough, she’ll make my father bring her home. That’s probably wishful thinking on my part, but it sure as fuck would make my life a whole lot easier in more ways than one.
I start walking ahead of her, tossing over my shoulder, “You probably shouldn’t trust me. Fuck,” I chuckle darkly, “you shouldn’t trust any of us.”
Everything was fine until she showed up and threw us into an unparalleled state of chaos—Mason sticking his dick in her, Bear swooping in like he’s her fuckin’ protector, and me letting her push all my fucking buttons and make me want to do all sorts of glorious, sinful things I shouldn’t be thinking about at all. And of course there’s my fucking father, trying to control what goes on here, even though he’s the one who threw her at us in the first place.
I grit out the absolute truth. “We’re all bastards. You’d do well to remember that tidbit, Stella.” I turn around to catch her reaction, but she’s gone.
TWENTY-SEVEN
MASON
With one glanceat my phone screen, I know we’ve got trouble. My lips twitch a fraction as I consider the two texts Duke has sent. Lennon took off, and he needs help. How is this my problem? Duke is responsible for Lennon, seeing as how she’s his stepsister, and it was his father who brought her here.
Guilt swarms into my head and won’t fucking go away.
Maybe I’m the tiniest bit responsible for her upset earlier. Fuck, okay, maybe a lot. Though no one knows that except her and me. I caught up with her on the way downstairs first thing this morning. She’d looked so fucking good in that dress… and it’d irritated the fuck out of me that we hadn’t gotten to finish what we’d started.Lennon.She’s something else. Curves in all the right places, long legs that’d wrapped around me so fucking tight.
I don’t know what had possessed me, but I’d teased her a bit. And once I got going I couldn’t stop, I’d outright jabbed, remembering how I’d smelled her shower gel on Bear. The realization that I knew what they’d done had massively upset her, though she’d tried to hide it—and she doesn’t even know that I’d simply made a good fucking guess.
