Page 144 of Gin and Lava

That catches his interest.

“And?” He kicks off his Rainbow sandals before walking onto my white shag rug.

“And …” I lean against my desk, taking another sip of the beer before putting it next to my project. “It was a good conversation. Helpful. Or at least honest.”

“And did Esme kick you to the curb like the white-trash piece of dirt you are?” Mason asks, matching my lean against my workbench.

“No, asshole,” I say, pushing him playfully. Only, he snatches my right hand and pulls me toward him, wrapping my arm around his neck so we’re pressed together.

“See,” he says, flattening his hand against my forearm that’s hooked behind his head. “The people who love you will love you no matter what. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

“Fine. You were right,” I say, teasing the back of his ear. “Do you want a gold star?”

“No. I want a blow job, but—”

“No sex,” I tease. But Mason doesn’t react to my flintiness. Distracted, he picks up my other hand.

“What is this?” He threads his fingers through mine and pulls my left hand between us, running his thumb over the ring I’ve just made. “Is this our fake engagement ring, Princess?”

I laugh, realizing I’ve put it on my ring finger.

“Uh …” That’s not what I meant to make. “It’s a little something I was playing around with.”

Mason’s transfixed by the ring, his fingers tracing the rough edges delicately. “This is different than your other work.”

“How would you know?”

“Um, you fucked me wearing half of it,” he points out. “And the rest you lent me for my secret project.”

My stomach goes squirrely when he looks up. “Yeah, about that,” I deflect, trying to ignore my unsettled gut. “When are you telling me what you’re doing with my jewelry?”

“It’s a surprise, Princess. Good things come to those who wait.”

“Is that sort of like your no sex arrangement?”

His eyes hit me hard, more serious than I want them to be. I meant that as a joke, but he’s taking it seriously. Not sleeping with him isn’t about patience. It’s about Sam.

Mason turns his attention back to the ring. “I like this one more than the others,” he says, ignoring the elephant in the room. “Did you make this today?”

I nod. “It isn’t finished. It’s an experiment.” I pull my hand from his grip and lift up the ring to look at it. “I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Isn’t all of life an experiment, Princess?”

My chest warms. How does Mason keep doing that? How does he keep making the idea of trying something new feel less scary?

“Is that how you look at life? As a big experiment?” I ask, my other arm still hooked around his neck, and greedy girl that I am, I tease my fingers through the hair at his nape.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, catching my eye and looking straight into me. He’s talking about the ring, of course, but when he looks at me, it feels like he means everything is beautiful: my jewelry, my past, me.

“You’re just saying that because you want to get laid,” I joke.

“Is it working?” he tosses back lightly, still holding me against him.

“You’re the one with the rules, Haas.”

And jerk that I am, I wrap my other arm around his neck so our fronts are completely pressed. His breath rolls over my lips, and his eyes peer into me like I truly am the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

And I settle into this moment whereweare the whole world: Mason, me, and the ugly, unfinished, fake ring on my finger.

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