Page 101 of Gin and Lava

I snake my hands over Mason’s stomach. “You seem like the kind of guy who’d like an audience,” I tease.

“Me, yes.” Mason grabs my hand and threads his fingers through his own. “It’s you I’m worried about. I love the Viking Princess when she comes out, but I don’t want to scare her off forever when Trifecta walks in on us and you regret it.”

“Mmmmm.” I lean in and nod against his neck, breathing in his tangy saltwater scent. “Then we’ll have to be extra loud, so everyone knows to stay in their bedrooms. This location does make your triple orgasm claim easier for everyone to hear.”

“I’m pretty sure Trifecta’s bedroomisthe living room.” Mason motions to the air mattress we can both see him sitting on through the window. Sam’s jaw is tight, deliberately trying to not look at us and failing miserably.

“He’s so pissed,” I agree.

“Your plan is working beautifully, Princess,” Mason whispers, and my gut twists.

Is it?

Sam is definitely jealous. That was the plan. Yet it doesn’t feel as satisfying as I want it to be. In the movies, jealousy plots seem glamorous, filled with triumph and smug glory. But I’m just too nice: one of those easy-to-walk-over people pleasers. I don’t really like watching someone I once loved unhappy, even if he didn’t care how much it hurt when he cut out my heart.

I also can’t get that look from Shauri out of my head. The one that saidthere’s more to Sam that I’m missing.Shauri and Sam do talk all the time now. What does she know?

“Earth to Naomi?” Mason twists us on the mattress, so Sam’s out of view. “Where’d you just go?”

I give my fake boyfriend a flirty smile. “Just dreaming of eggplant.”

Mason clucks his tongue. “You’ve been hanging out with me too much.”

“Maybe,” I agree, snaking my hand dangerously over his hip.

“Are you going to make a move with everyone watching, Princess?” Mason challenges, and I bat my lashes like I’m thinking about it. But Mason shakes his head. “One, I call your bluff. And two, my naughty little Viking isn’t getting any magical O’s until she does her homework, so this location is probably perfect.”

“I believe the stipulation wasIdon’t get any orgasms,” I whisper in Mason’s ear. “That doesn’t mean I can’t give them to you. I’ve tasted your eggplant once and—” To my pleasure, Mason groans wickedly in my hair.

“Happy to find a loophole, Tate?”

“Not as happy as you will be,” I nudge.

“Problem is I know what happens when you eat eggplant, Princess. You won’t be able to resist getting naked, and wrut-wro, you’ve got to do your homework to win that prize, baby.”

“You’re calling me baby now?”

“Did you even open Pinterest?”

“Yes,” I say defiantly, nudging him away. “I made several boards this morning.”

“Prove it.”

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and flip open the app, surprised to find butterflies in my stomach when I hand it over to him. Mason adjusts us, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and lying us back together. It’s a very boyfriend move, keeping me tucked against his side as he flips through the boards with his free hand, thumbing through them carefully.

None of my boards have fifty pins yet, but they’re starting to take shape: soft rose tones, blue sunsets, blurry backgrounds, and women with romantic hair but stunning red lips. I see what he meant about creating a vision. When I actually put the pictures together on a board, I can start to see how my jewelry might be presented.

“What do you think?” I ask, strangling a lock of blonde hair around my finger in anticipation. I wait for his reaction, surprised I’m so anxious. What if he thinks they’re shit? What if he tells me to start over again? What if he thinks they’re perfect?

Mason shifts his attention to me, saying nothing and watching me with thoughtful green eyes. He studies my face with the same care as my vision boards, and the back of my neck heats. When did Mason become so quiet and attentive? And why is it so disarming?

“Mason?” I whisper, not able to sit in his silence.

“What doyouthink about them?” he says finally, echoing my own words.

“I don’t know.” I squirm. “I’m not the one who owns a business. You’re the one who gave the assignment. You tell me.”

He shakes his head. “Answer the question, Princess.” His tone is gentle, his green eyes flickering with a seriousness that saysthis is important. The weight in his gaze whispers that he doesn’t want to taint what I see in the pictures with his own opinion.

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