But I did for the stranger in the dark tonight. My new neighbor with the deep, soft voice that lulled me into a false security.
Did he think I wouldn’t figure it out?
Right now, I don’t really care because I can’t see past the haze of red filming my vision. I’m too angry at being played for a fool to care about the fact that my ex is now my new next-door neighbor.
“Mason!”
A neighbor’s dog erupts into a fit of wild barking as my shouts grow louder and my fist hammers faster. I’m probably going to wake up the entire neighborhood at this point.
The door suddenly swings open, and the momentum sends me stumbling forward and faceplanting directly into a very hard chest.
Oh, god. He even smells the same. A mix of sandalwood, jasmine, and bergamot. He still wears the Chanel Bleu I gave him. Without my consent, my nose presses into the soft fabric of his T-shirt before I can stop myself.
Strong, masculine hands grip my shoulders, and I automatically look up into a face that is still so devastatingly handsome, it steals the breath right out of my lungs. My eyes connect with navy blue ones that have haunted me for over a year, and it’s like being punched in the stomach by a lightning bolt. His dark blond hair is longer, the tips curling around his ears now. His cheekbones look more defined, the short stubble of his jaw more alluring and begging for my fingertips to test its rough texture. The shape of his mouth is even more perfect.
Damn him for being more attractive than he was before. It’s not fair.
His hands burn my skin like a brand as those dark blue eyes inspect me from head to toe.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” he asks with concern.
The fist that was banging on the door automatically grips his shirt to hold myself upright on unsteady legs when his voice penetrates the fog of memories crashing through me. Memories that I’ve locked away behind a barbed-wire fence for the past year and a half.
The first time we met out on the quad. The way he would smile at me. Our first date. Tasting his lips for the first time. How he would tenderly stroke my hair as he read to me in bed. How being in his arms felt like home. Hanging paper stars filled with our wishes. The first time we made love. The night he walked away.
“How?” My question is whispered in the dark.
It’s really him. How can that be? How can I feel both intense happiness and crippling devastation at the same time?
Our eyes remain locked, neither one of us able to look away. His face is so close, mere inches from mine, that I can see how his pupils expand until the blue of his irises disappears. His mouth timorously quirks up at the corners, the dimple on his left cheek becoming pronounced.
“It was theladybugthat gave me away,” he says, almost like an apology.
A full-body tremor racks me when his nickname for me falls from his lips. Lips I’m staring at like a famished woman in the desert seeing a heavenly oasis for the first time.
“I don’t understand. How is this possible?”
Mason’s large, calloused hand tenderly cups my face, and my breath hitches, catching in my throat. That one small touch snaps something between us, like an overstretched rubber band that had been pulled taut past its limit.
I’ve missed his touch. I’ve missed his kisses, his face, his smiles, his voice. I’ve missed him so much.
In a blur of movement, I yank him to me at the same time he pushes me back against the open door. The windowpane rattles with the impact as our mouths clash desperately, our kiss brutal; one born of fire and desire and longing.
My body combusts into a ball of fire when his hands slide underneath me and lift me in his arms. My legs wrap around his lean waist while my fingers thread through his silky hair and grab tight. Mason deepens our kiss, and a needy moan of desire erupts up my throat.
“Aria,” he says against my lips. Hearing my real name, not my nickname, is like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head.
What am I doing?
I shouldn’t be kissing him.
He left me. He broke my heart.
I detest this man.
No, you don’t.
With a strength of will I didn’t know I possessed, I push hard against his chest, breaking our kiss. Mason’s harsh pants match my erratic breaths as we look at one another. The desire on his face makes my core throb, but I ignore the wants of my body and listen to the admonishments of my conscience.
