Something tells me I’ll never be able to go back to business as usual after tonight.
I lie here gasping, my hand still between my legs, and the realization is hard to escape: I was turned on by a man. I felt pleasure instead of fear or pain—and I want more.
A lot more.
Mason's hands, Mason's mouth, Mason's intensity playing through my mind like a loop I couldn't—don't want to—break.
He’s big. He’s intense. He’s celebrated for the violent things he’s done—for the people he’s most assuredly killed. He should be scary. But three words echo in my chest.
I want him.
Anxiety and want war inside me, leaving me shaking for reasons that have nothing to do with the orgasm fading from mybody and everything to do with the man who's gotten under my skin so completely.
He hasn’t even touched me yet.
Except I know in my heart that somehow he has.
21
MASON
I'm wrung out by the time I get home.
The drive back to Blackthorn Ranch is a blur—headlights cutting through darkness, my hands steady on the wheel even though my mind is anything but. I keep seeing her silhouette through that gap in the curtains. Keep feeling the weight of what I just did.
I want to go back, crawl through her window, and slip into bed with her. I want to spread her legs open and lap up the pleasure she gave herself.
The ranch is quiet when I pull in. Based on the cars next to the house, everyone’s home. Jake and Emma probably turned in hours ago. Jake can’t keep his hands off his woman—not that Emma’s any better. Now that Emma’s pregnant, he does what he can to keep her busy so she isn’t fretting about Turner. The confrontation six weeks ago changed everything. Jake's always been protective—we call him Warden because he locks down what’s in his care tight and secure—but now he's a man who knows exactly what kind of threat is circling his family.
I picture Lily. I get it. I was invested before, but now? I will make sure that motherfucker disappears and that no one ever finds a scrap of him.
I kill the engine and sit in the silence for a moment, letting the adrenaline bleed out. My body's still wired from surveillance, from watching Lily move through her house like she's expecting an ambush at any second. From watching her do things I had no right to see.
Yet.
The kitchen light is on, and through the window I see Luke move through the room.
I should've known he'd be up. My brother doesn't sleep much these days—he’s restless.
That never bodes well.
There’s a reason we call Luke Riot. He’s chaos wrapped in charm. He flirts like breathing, jokes at the worst possible moments, and somehow still manages to be the most reliable man I know. Underneath the surfer grin and constant bullshit is a man wired for violence with hands steady enough to build a bomb or end a life without blinking. Being a demolitions expert tells you everything you need to know about his brain. Precise. Patient. Slightly unhinged.
He's going to see right through me.
I push through the door and find him at the kitchen table, a bottle of beer in hand, our dog, Shadow, at his feet, and his laptop open in front of him. He looks up when I enter, takes one look at my face, and sets the bottle down slowly.
“You look like hell,” he says.
“Long night.” Setting my rifle down on the counter, I go to grab a beer too.
“Surveillance?”
I ignore the smirk I hear in his voice and pop the cap off the bottle to take a long swig.
“On Lily Carter.”
It's not a question. I’m not even sure why he’s stating it. I haven’t exactly been discreet in my fascination with her. I turn to face him, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah.”
