He was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. “You’re very observant,” he finally said.
“And you’re very evasive,” I countered with a smile to soften the words.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Julian. I’m… complicated.”
“I like complicated,” I said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. His skin was startlingly warm. “What I don’t like is being kept in the dark when someone is clearly interested in me.”
“I am,” he said immediately, turning his hand to grasp mine. “Interested in you. Very interested. But there are things about me that are difficult to explain.”
“Try me,” I challenged.
He seemed to wage an internal battle, then shook his head slightly. “Not yet. I want you to get to know me first—the normal parts—before I dump my baggage on you.”
I could respect that, even if my curiosity was killing me. “Fine. But at some point, you’re going to have to trust me.”
“I want to,” he said, with such sincerity that my heart skipped. “I really do.”
The walk back to my place was comfortable, the night air cool against my skin. Mason walked close beside me, our hands occasionally brushing, sending little electric currents up my arm each time.
“This is me,” I said as we reached my cabin. It was small but charming, with a covered porch and a view of the forest behind it.
“It’s nice,” he said, looking around appreciatively. “Peaceful.”
“That was the goal.” I turned to face him, suddenly nervous. “Do you want to come in? For coffee, or…?”
His eyes darkened. “I want to. But I probably shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” I asked, taking a step closer to him.
He swallowed visibly. “Because if I come inside, I’m going to want to kiss you. And if I kiss you, I might not want to stop.”
The blunt honesty sent heat rushing through me. “That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
“Julian,” he said, my name almost a groan. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
“Then explain it to me,” I challenged, moving closer until we were nearly chest to chest. I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, and something about that size difference made my pulse quicken.
“I can’t—I’m not good at—” He made a frustrated sound. “Words aren’t my strong suit.”
“Then show me,” I whispered.
Something in him snapped. With a growl that sounded almost inhuman, he surged forward, backing me against my front door. One large hand cupped my jaw while the other braced against the door beside my head, caging me in.
Then his mouth was on mine, and holy hell, if I’d thought he was holding back during dinner, it was nothing compared to the restraint he must have been exercising now. The kiss was hungry, desperate, like he’d been starving for this. His lips werefirm but surprisingly soft, and when his tongue swept into my mouth, I made an embarrassing sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
I clutched at his shoulders, feeling the incredible strength beneath my fingers. He was all hard muscle and heat, pressing me into the door with just enough pressure to make me dizzy with want but not enough to hurt.
His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair and tugging lightly. The slight pain sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my groin, and I arched against him, seeking friction.
He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me. His hips pushed forward, and I felt the impressive evidence of his arousal against my stomach. The size difference between us had never been more apparent—or more arousing.
I slipped my hands under his straining shirt, desperate to feel skin, and was rewarded with the sensation of hot, smooth muscle under my palms. A dusting of hair covered his lower back, thickening as my hands moved upward. When my fingers traced his spine, he shuddered and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with increasing urgency.
“Inside,” I gasped when we broke for air. “Let’s go inside.”
For a moment, I thought he’d agree. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. But then something shifted in his expression—a flash of what looked like fear.
“I can’t,” he said, his voice rough. He stepped back, putting space between us, though it clearly took effort. “Not tonight. Not yet.”
