Page 145 of Gin and Lava

But then I shake myself and remove my arms from his shoulders. I’m being selfish again, wanting to take and take from Mason when he’s made it very clear I need to respect the boundary he’s put in place.

“Sorry,” I say, “You said you didn’t want—”

“Are you thinking about him right now?” Mason interrupts, and his eyes wound at the thought that I’d wrap my arms around him and think of another man.

“No!” I say quickly. “God no, Mason. You walked in that door and the last person I’ve been thinking about is Sa—”

Mason kisses me.

No, he full-body wraps me with his weight, and I’m gasping at how he cups the back of my head and takes my lips, opening me, tasting me, making me ravenous. Our connection is electric, and I light up like a damn Christmas tree in July, kissing him back.

I wrap my arms around his waist, tugging at the back of his shirt and sliding my hands over the skin of his lower back. My fingers tingle at the connection, at how smooth and warm and—as much as I don’t want to say the word—perfect he feels.

So damn, perfect.

Mason pulls away from our kiss and reaches back to pull off his shirt. The sight of his bare chest makes my core throb because I know what is coming. He’ll lose all his clothes. I’ll lose all my clothes. And then we’ll be on this floor, or on this desk in a writhing, sweaty, gorgeous mess.

“Bedroom?” Mason asks, and I smile at the sweetness of that. I expected him to turn me around and have his way with me against my work bench.

“Down the hall.” I point with my chin, and Mason swoops me up into his arms, carrying me toward my bedroom as if we just crossed the threshold after getting married.

The lights are off in my bedroom, and he doesn’t bother to turn them on, letting the illumination from the living room cast down the hall and across the floor. Mason carefully places me on my designer comforter, and I sink into the fluffy down, the plush fabric hugging me like a sinful cloud.

Mason unbuttons his jeans, and my mouth dries out with the sound of them hitting the floor. It’s dark, and my heart thumps as he crawls onto the bed—over me, on top of me—long and warm. He drowns me in his weight, drowns me in kisses. He turns into a sea that rocks and sways and consumes: Mason on top and an ocean of softness below.

There’s no rush in any of his movements. In fact, Mason’s almost too slow and deliberate, causing my needy hands to rake up and down his back. He’s so much beautiful skin and weight, and I want to be naked beneath him.

I slide my hands to his shoulders and softly push him back, both of us panting.

“I thought we weren’t having sex,” I say, trying to find Mason’s eyes in the dark.

“Are you thinking about Trifecta right now?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Mason, when I’m with you, I’m with you.” I slide my hand up his neck to cup his cheek. “I wantyou, right now. But I also don’t want to pressure you into something you’re uncomfortable with. You made the no sex rule, and I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Consent matters,” Mason responds. It’s almost a tease, his words echoing what he said so many times when we were in my truck that first time. But he was drunk then and he couldn’t believe I wanted him, and now—

Now feels different.

“I don’t want to confuse things,” I say softly.

“Fuck,” Mason growls, and I don’t know exactly why he’s cursing. Is it the fact that we’re friends? Is it the fact that friends and intimacy always turn into a royal mess?

My chest tightens and I realize how important his friendship has become. It’s started to feel like he’s the one true friend I have on this island; he’s someone who knows my past and supports my dreams and—

Mason’s hand slides under my shirt and upward, caressing my tit. I moan, because our connection is immediate. No matter how, or when, Mason touches me, he always makes me ravenous. And in my gut, Iknowthat’s not what friends do.

He leans down to kiss me, but I stop him again. “Mason,” I warn, digging my fingernails into his shoulders. “Maybe we shouldn’t. I mean, are you really okay with—”

“You know I can’t say no to you,” Mason pants against my cheek, and the weight of him above me is intoxicating. I can already feel how hard he is—how badly his body wants this.

“Yes but—” I hesitate, my insides liquid. My nipples buzzing with how he thrums them through my bra. “But I could. I can say no to you if—”

“Please don’t.”

Mason kisses me. He kisses me so softly that I shiver.

My entire body trembles.

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