Page 7 of Hidden Obsession

Mason switched the lights off, put his gun on the nightstand beside him, and slid into the bed beside her, careful not to touch any part of her body.

“Goodnight.” His voice was deep, and it held a new intonation she hadn’t heard from him, and one she couldn’t interpret.

“Goodnight, Mason.”

She turned her back to him, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t about to happen. Trying not to move too abruptly, she rolled onto her stomach, and then her back, before going back to her side.

A low growl came from the other side of the bed. “Shut your mind off, Cleo. That’s the only way you’ll be able to sleep.”

Rolling to her back again, she turned her head to look at him. His black hair was tousled, his warm skin so close to her fingers almost distracted her from their conversation. “Easy for you to say. I can’t turn my mind off just like that. Nobody can. Not even you, ninja.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. We don’t control it, but there are things you can do to calm your mind. Focus on something peaceful or a nice memory. That can trick your mind into relaxing.”

Cleo huffed and turned her back to him again. “As if it was that easy. Go to sleep, Mason.”

The bed moved, and before she could react, he brought his arm around her and plastered her body against his. His taller frame enveloped her like a cocoon, his breath fanning her hair. “Another option is to prevent you from moving at all.”

“Very funny.” She might have sounded sarcastic but being caught in his embrace felt reassuring and exhilarating at the same time. How she wished the man wasn’t such a goody-two-shoes. A wilder man would take advantage of the situation, and in Mason’s case, she would have let him. “You may like that kind of thing, Mason, but being trapped isn’t something I’m into.”

His arm didn’t let her go, instead his cheek rubbed the top of her hair in a rumbling sigh that made her blood simmer. And when he slightly pushed his hips against her bottom, the evidence of his growing erection was undeniable. Was she hallucinating again? Mason Bentley—the straightest arrow she had ever met—couldn’t want her. That was impossible.

“You know nothing about what I’m into, Miss Darwin. But I’ll share one of them if you want to know. I’m into anything that involves you, Cleo.”

Her stomach somersaulted. “It’s flattering, but I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to distract me.”

His hold tightened. “I’m not a player, Cleo. Nor am I a liar. I’m telling you the truth.”

“We’re too different.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Cleo knew two people who were so different couldn’t make it in the long run. “I don’t date co-workers. Ever. Besides, you’re not thinking straight.”

That made him pause for an instant, his body eerily still. She was telling him the truth. There might be an attraction, an itch to scratch, but there would be nothing more between them. Even if deep down she yearned for it, she wasn’t delusional, and it was probably his protector gene revving him up. If she succumbed, maybe she could get him out of her system, once and for all.

“Are you trying to tell me I don’t know my own mind, Miss Darwin?”

“I’m only stating facts. You’re probably swimming in adrenaline and so am I. This isn’t real.”

“Interesting theory. And if we go with that theory, I’m not really attracted to you, and you’re not attracted to me?”

Should she lie? Common sense wanted to; her naughty side didn’t want to lose Mason’s touch. “I’m attracted to you, but as I told you, it’s only stress and hormones talking. This is nothing more than lust.” A half-lie could work after all.

“Well, for the sake of that theory, how can we prove it?”

It was apparent he was testing her, and everything that had happened tonight blurred her limits. Mason’s hand splayed on her stomach, caressing her in a lazy line just below her breasts, not low enough or high enough to ease the ache.

After a few minutes, her hips started to sway in a silent call, and she cursed under her breath. Lust was coiled too deep inside her to make her sensible. “I don’t know what it would take, Mason. I…”

She swallowed hard, and Mason’s velvety voice returned to her ear. “I think you’re lying because your body is singing an entirely different tune. You have complete control here, Cleo. So if you could do anything, what would you do?”

Again, her mouth opened and closed, and at that moment, she wished she could kiss him. She tried to turn, but he kept her in place. “No way. You say it’s hormones, stress, or adrenaline making me want you. I’m sure it’s not. But you’re not convinced, so I think the best bet is to clear your head of all of those pesky hormones so you can start to think straight, don’t you think?”

Unsure where he was going, it suddenly clicked, and she turned her head. “You’re not serious.”

His smile was the most beautiful and wicked one she had ever seen. A fantasy. “I am.”

“But you won’t…”