Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 11

His shoulders bounce with silent laughter. "Nothing, man."

"Shut up." I fight my own smile, knowing exactly what the guy's thinking.

I've moved on from Eve and am now chest deep into feeling for another woman, who'll probably destroy me.

As I look down at Trix, all decked out and showing off her best a.s.sets, my blood roars. Either this girl has worked some kind of voodoo witchery on my a.s.s, or she's the most alluring woman on the face of the planet. On paper, I wouldn't give a woman like Trix a second glance. Even as the thought moves through my thick f.u.c.king skull, shame weighs heavy in my gut. She's a stripper, loose with her morals and her body, but that's not who I see when I'm with her. It's the woman inside, beneath the skin-tight clothes, colored hair, and makeup, and d.a.m.n if even covered in all that she isn't stunning.

"If you guys don't mind, I'm gonna skip out." I give Cam a chin lift and fist b.u.mp Eve. "Thanks for the movie." They regard me in a knowing way that makes me want to flip them both off.

The girls say good-bye, and we find Angel to let her know I'm taking Trix home. They share a quick hug before I pull Trix from the room, eager to hear her apology.

I'm barely out of The Blackout parking lot when she huffs. I wait knowing that she's most likely working up the strength it takes for a strong woman like Trix to swallow her pride.

"Mason . . ."

Here it comes. I pivot and lift one eyebrow.

She turns toward me, angling her s.e.xy little body in that short skirt and off-the-shoulder top. "You're such a d.i.c.k!"

Laughter bursts from my lips, and if I weren't driving, I'd double over with the force of it. "I'm a d.i.c.k? What did I do?"

Her sweet lips are pulled wide in a playful grin that reminds me of that picture she showed me of when she was a teenager. "You let me believe you were on a date, for like, minutes." She shakes her head slowly, eyes tight, but still smiling. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to see me jealous."

Jealous. Is that what she was? I never really thought past the fact that she was just p.i.s.sed at seeing me with another girl, not because of her feelings for me, but because she felt betrayed in some way.

"Is that . . .?" I clear my throat. "You were jealous?"

I keep my eyes to the road, but catch her expression fall as she turns to face forward. "Well, yeah, I think I was."

My heart slams in my chest, and I grip the steering wheel to keep from pulling her over to straddle my lap.

"That surprises you."

Am I that obvious? "Um, yeah, a little. I didn't realize you'd . . ." Had the same feelings for me as I had for you. How do I say what I want to say without freaking her out?

She doesn't press for more, and dead air thickens between us before she angles toward me again. "Do you always play third wheel on other people's dates? I gotta say it's kinda sad." Her teasing tone, having apparently moved on from the heavier conversation, catches me off guard.

"It's sad that I went to a movie with my boss and his girlfriend and then dropped by The Blackout to catch another friend of mine's band play?" I make a quick turn into a gas station and pull up to the mini-mart.

"Not when you say it like that, it's not," she mumbles and turns to watch out the window. "What are we doing?"

"How do you like your coffee?" I study her stunned expression and smile.

"It's eleven o'clock at night."

I lift my eyebrows, waiting.

"Cream and sugar, please." Her eyebrows pinch together, and she pulls on her lower lip. "Oh, unless they have those flavored creamers, in which case, I'll take a few of those. Vanilla, if they have it."

There she goes being cute.

"Done." I grab the keys and hop from my truck. "Be right back." After the door shuts, I hit lock on the key fob and chuckle when her confused eyes come to mine. "Stay put."

She rolls her eyes, and I turn to head in to the mini-mart, wondering why I feel so drawn to her. The need to protect her is overwhelming. The desire to be close to her is uncontrollable. And the urge to know her, really know her, is irresistible.

Trix Coffee. What in the h.e.l.l does he have planned?

I a.s.sumed, after my embarra.s.sing display at the club, he was going to drop me at home and try to forget the evening's foot-in-mouth events. At least, that was what I planned to do. Instead, I'm sitting in his truck, feeling like a high-school girl on a date with the quarterback.

I watch as he moves to the gas station market, long strides from his powerful legs that carry his gorgeously sculpted body through the door. I lose the visual as he gets lost within the market aisles and take the moment to pull down the visor and check my face.

Ugh. Yep, I look like a stripper. I grab a small packet of tissues from my clutch, swipe at my cheeks, and dab my eyes. There's something about being around Mason that makes me want to strip everything away. I want him to see more than the s.e.x and temptation. I want him to see, well, me. Maybe it's because he's so down to earth, so real, that I want to meet him on the same level. A whisper of guilt tightens my chest, but I push it back, telling myself I have nothing to be embarra.s.sed about.

I take my clothes off for a living, and a d.a.m.n good living at that. I've done what I had to do to get the things I've needed, and there's zero shame in my plight. And yet, when Mason looks at me, he makes me want to be better. He reminds me what it felt like to be unguarded, to live in my skin without playing a role.

"Stupid." Finished removing a good fifty percent of my makeup, I pull my hair over one shoulder and throw it in a quick braid. The car alarm tweets and the door locks flip up. With a final check in the mirror and unable to do a thing about the tight one-shoulder s.h.i.+rt and mini skirt I'm wearing, I flip the mirror closed.

The driver's side door swings open, and Mason folds into the truck with a bag around his arm and two cups of coffee balancing in one hand.

"Here, let me help." I grab both cups and deposit them into the cup holders.

"Thanks." He turns and drops the bag into the backseat, and my eyes go immediately to his stubbled jawline. The dark shadow contrasts with the blond s.h.a.ggy hair that meets it just in front of his ear. He must feel me staring, because he tenses and turns his liquid blue eyes to mine. His eyebrows pinch as his gaze glides from my hair to my eyes, my lips, and my neck. "Wow!"

"What?" The single word question falls from my lips on an exhale.

His hand reaches for my braid, wrapping it around his fingers and giving it a gentle but firm tug before he cups my jaw. He stares at my lips, and I self-consciously dart out my tongue to moisten them. His eyes flare, and he runs his thumb roughly along my lower lip, sucking his bottom one while watching the path of his finger. "You're so pretty."

I blink to rid the burning in the backs of my eyes. Pretty? Only my parents have ever called me pretty. s.e.xy, f.u.c.kable, a wet dream-those are the things I'm used to hearing. But pretty? My chest warms, and I lean into his hold, lips tingling with the urge to press against his.

He blinks and clears his throat. "We, uh, we better get going." He removes his hand from my cheek and s.h.i.+fts in his seat, a painful expression on his face.

The loss of his warmth and sting of rejection burns in my gut, but the lingering arousal that his simple touch brings doesn't seem to notice.

"So where are you taking me?" I grab my coffee, needing something for my hands to do so they don't reach over and grip at his ma.s.sive thighs.

"It's a surprise." He peeks over at me with a half-smile. "You don't have a curfew, do you?"

I shake my head and smile into the lid of my coffee. "No."

"Good." He leans forward, his powerful arm pulling the cotton of his blue tee tight around his biceps, and adjusts the stereo. "Do you like Blink 182?"

"Yeah." The scratchy sound comes through the speakers. "Is this Ches.h.i.+re Cat?"

His eyebrows pop in surprise. "It is. I love this alb.u.m."

"Me too. It reminds me of grade school." Back when things were easy, before life got hard.

"Did you ever see them play live?" He turns onto I-95.

"No, I didn't. You?"

"They came through Santa Cruz and played at-"

"Shut up!" My hand moves on its own and punches him in the shoulder. I resist the urge to shake off the pain from hitting his brick of a bicep. "You're from Santa Cruz?"

He grins, so big and so d.a.m.n beautiful I feel it flutter in my chest. "Yeah."

"I'm from San Jose." The excitement in my voice rings through the truck cab.

"No kidding? Wow, small world."

"Right? We used to drive out to Cowell Beach every summer growing up."

His eyes dart to mine in surprise. "I learned to surf at Cowell. Did you guys rent a place?"

My cheeks heat, and I'm grateful he can't see it in the dark cab. "No, we didn't really have a lot of money, so we'd just go for the day."

He's completely unaffected by my confession of our being broke, but I suppose that's because he doesn't know all of it. Like the fact that we all didn't even have swim suits and had to share a couple towels between the ten of us. Not that any of it mattered back then.

My fondest childhood memories were from those trips, leaving before the sun came up, piled in our van with a bag full of peanut-b.u.t.ter sandwiches, and leaving after the sun sank into the ocean. Our skin red, hair matted with salt water and sand, exhausted. And Lana.

I clear my throat of the lump the memory brings. "To think we could've been there at the same time."

"Nah, I don't think so." He takes a sip of his coffee then puts it back in the cup holder. "I would've remembered you."

My face feels hot, but this time for a completely different reason. How is it that his compliments turn me into a nervous, blus.h.i.+ng mess? "Mason, I was a knock-kneed, mousy kid. I'm sure a guy like you was surrounded by beautiful beach babes. I just . . . blended in with the sand."

"Ha! That's funny." He shakes his head. "That you could ever blend in is laughable." He peers over at me for a split second before his eyes go back to the road. "Don't forget I saw a picture of you as a teenager, and trust me . . . I would've noticed you. Noticed and then shown off to get your attention."

My stomach flips over on itself, and I smile out the window into the dark. With the city behind us and the dark mountains ahead, I imagine what it would've been like to know Mason back then. Was he a c.o.c.ky teenager, a leader-of-the-pack type who was constantly surrounded by cheerleaders? No way would he have paid attention to the shy seventeen-year-old girl with the Disney obsession.

We turn off the freeway onto a road that seems mostly desolate.

"You're not taking me out into the middle of nowhere to have your wicked way with me, are you?" Not that I'd care if he was.

He turns to me and flashes a devastatingly handsome smile that has me catching my breath. "Maybe."

My stomach lurches, and I slug down a few gulps of coffee. If that's his plan, I'm going to need plenty of energy to enjoy it.

Eleven.

Mason I'm nervous. I don't remember the last time I was really nervous around a girl. I mean, even with Eve, we always had a friends.h.i.+p first that made things so easy when we hung out. That was a big part of what convinced me we were meant to be together. Love should be easy, right?

Trix is different. She constantly has me on edge, walking the fine line of my sanity and hypersensitive to her every move. Although our conversations are light and there's no uncomfortable silence between us, the prospect of being alone with her sends a battalion of b.u.t.terflies loose in my gut.

I sip on my coffee and let the caffeine charge through my veins, giving me a second wind. Truth is, after the movie tonight, I was ready to go home and crash, but the opportunity to spend time with Trix alone is too good to pa.s.s up.

"Hang on." I hit the four-wheel drive and pull off the small road and through the mountains.

Small rocks spit from the tires and knock against the wheel well. She squeals with laughter and holds on to the sissy bar while we blaze a trail over rocks, gravel, and small plants to a clearing up ahead.

I stop and put the truck in park. "We're here."

"That was gnarly!" She's grinning big, childlike excitement in her eyes that makes my chest swell with pride. Her head swivels around, leaning forward to peer out the winds.h.i.+eld. "Where are we?"

I jerk my head to my door. "Come on, I'll show you."

"Oh, I don't know." She holds up one long tanned leg, and I resist, just barely, the urge to take in the view she's flas.h.i.+ng from between them. "I don't have on my hiking heels."

"Hmm . . . good point." I chew my lip then hold up one finger. "Hold on." I slide from my seat and circle around to the pa.s.senger side of the truck.

I open the door to find her staring at me. "What are you doing?" She laughs as I reach over her into the backseat and grab my flannel b.u.t.ton up s.h.i.+rt.

"Put this on." When she leans in, I maneuver it around her back and allow myself to get close and drink in her scent as she slips her arms through the arm holes. "Good now . . . " I run both hands from her knee to her calf, groaning at the smooth texture of her skin, and pus.h.i.+ng away fantasies of what her legs would feel like wrapped around my hips. Once to her foot, I slide one shoe off, ma.s.saging the arch of her delicate foot before moving over to repeat the process on the other. f.u.c.k. I never thought of myself as a foot-fetish guy, but Trix's feet are enough to make me curious.

"Mmm . . . that feels good." The guttural groan of pleasure from her lips makes my d.i.c.k instantly hard.

"You feel good." Everything about her feels incredible: her voice, her touch, and her lips. f.u.c.k . . . I need to taste her lips. I lean over and hold myself just inches from her, so close I can feel the heat of her body and absorb the vibration of her quickened breath. Her big eyes rimmed in black blink up at me, silently begging. I scoop my hand under her knees, and another behind her back, pulling her from the truck.

Her hands fly to my neck and lock there to steady herself. She doesn't struggle or protest, but willingly gives her weight to me while I move her to the truck bed.

"Hold on, baby." I turn my head and cringe. s.h.i.+t, the endearment came so easily, and I hope it's not too much to send her running.

She squeezes me tighter, and I release her enough to pop the tailgate and gently place her on it.

"Thank you." She pulls the flannel around her body. Even though it's summer in Vegas and not cold, it tends to run a little cooler in the mountains, and she's wearing next to nothing under my s.h.i.+rt. "It's so dark out here." She looks around. "Are there bears?"

"No." I sit up next to her, close enough that our thighs are touching. "No bears."

She turns her eyes toward me. "So, what is it? Why are we here?" The l.u.s.t in her voice is so heavy it's all I can do to keep from pus.h.i.+ng her back, mounting her, and f.u.c.king her senseless.

I lean in and brush my lips along her jaw to her ear. "Lie down."

She trembles and sucks in a lungful of air. "Okay."

Slowly she lowers herself back, and I know by her quick intake of breath she finally sees why we're here.

"Oh my . . ."

I grin into my shoulder and lean back to lie alongside her. "Amazing, right?"

"I've never seen anything like it." The wonder in her voice makes my chest feel light. "Wow, there are so many."