Magnetic Tension

LAUREN

~Come down.~

I read the text over and over, five times in bed, five times getting up, and five times walking down the stairs.

I slipped the phone into my jeans pocket as I neared the kitchen.

The moment I stepped through the door, I was hit by the smell of food and something sweet, fruity, and earthy. The fridge was open, the oven was on, and the silence was almost too much.

Before I could wonder where Mason was, I felt a hand on my lower back.

Guiding me to a stool.

“Sit down,” he said. His words were firm, but his tone was surprisingly gentle. I sat on one of the stools, watching him move around me.

And then I nearly choked.

He was shirtless.

The only thing he was wearing was a pair of sweatpants, hanging so low they revealed more than they concealed, highlighting the deep V of his chiseled waist.

His body was a work of art, muscles and abs perfectly sculpted. I wondered when he found the time to hit the gym and get a body like that.

What was he up to?

When he moved, his muscles flexed and bulged. When he bent down to open the oven, his ass was on full display.

It was round and firm.

I tried to swallow, but it felt like my heart was lodged in my throat. I tried to look away, but my eyes were glued to him.

The man who was the most attractive being I had ever seen.

I knew I was staring. I might have even been drooling.

What can I say? I’m human. A human who liked what she was seeing—a feast for the eyes.

Who was I to deny myself?

When he turned, I had to stop myself from either running out of the kitchen or throwing myself at him. I was tired of being thirsty.

“Can you put on a shirt, please?”

His eyes were warm, scanning my face. It was both endearing and irritating that he seemed confused by my simple request, acting like he had no idea what he was doing to me.

“Why?” His voice was rough, filling the air around us. It wrapped around me like a magnet, shooting down to my legs, and I had to fight to keep from melting.

“What do you mean why?” I asked.

“Is it a bother?”

It was a stupid question and we both knew it. He was pushing for answers, trying to see if I would admit that I was attracted to him.

And admitting that would mean he had won, and I wasn’t about to let him taste victory.

“No,” I said flatly. “But you should wear a shirt.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, opening a cupboard to get two plates. “It’s my house. I can do what I want.”

His lips barely moved when he spoke, and I wanted to slam his head against the fridge.

My breath caught in my throat, but that didn’t stop me from saying what was on my mind.

“No one is saying you can’t. But since you’re not the only one living here, there are some things you shouldn’t do. Don’t you know what courtesy is?”

“No, I wasn’t taught that,” he replied, his flat tone irking me because I knew he was messing with me.

“I was taught to do whatever I want, but that seems to be a problem for you.” Mason rolled his eyes as he finished plating the food.

He sat across from me, openly staring at my face but not saying anything else.

I stared back.

“If it’s a problem for you, Lauren, I’ll wear a bloody shirt.”

“Okay,” I managed to say, unsure if he was being sincere or just messing with me.

But then he surprised me. He stood up and instead of leaving the kitchen, he went to a drawer at the far end of the room.

I watched as he opened the drawer and pulled out a cashmere shirt. When he put it on, it fit him perfectly, showing off his biceps.

When he turned and saw me staring, he paused and furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Why do you have a shirt in the kitchen?”

He leaned over the counter, his forehead almost touching the surface.

When he straightened up, he tilted his head slightly.

“If I ruin my shirt, I don’t have to go all the way up to my room. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You have a drawer full of clothes in the kitchen, Mason.”

“And? Don’t you have one?”

I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. It started as a chuckle and grew into a full-blown belly laugh.

I laughed so hard that tears welled up in my eyes.

Across from me, Mason looked genuinely surprised by my reaction. His usually stoic face softened as he watched me laugh.

He blinked a few times, looking stunned and confused, which only made me laugh harder.

I covered my mouth with one hand and waved the other in front of me, struggling to speak. “No, normal people do not keep clothes in the kitchen. Rich people are so extra.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes, pushing a plate toward me. My eyes landed on the most delicious-looking food I had ever seen. My stomach growled in agreement.

So embarrassing.

My eyes darted from the plate to him and back to the plate. I bit my lower lip. ~He made me something to eat~, I thought.

This might not seem like a big deal to some, but to me, it was monumental. He'd gone out of his way to make something for me, and it wasn't just about the food.

It was the sentiment behind it.

Mason had once shared that his brother, Tom, and Billie would whip up Macchi ke Sooley for him on his rough days. He'd said it always tasted good because he could taste their love in it.

I was hesitant to touch it, scared to take a bite.

Would I taste his love? Or would I not? Would it be sweet or bitter? Or would it have no taste at all? My heart was pounding in my chest.

But it was also fluttering. Butterflies were doing a jig in my stomach. Because he cared. He cared enough to call Beth. He cared enough to make me his comfort food.

Even if he were to jab a fork in my eyes, I'd still know he cared. Even if he continued being a jerk, he still cared about me.

I'd managed to get inside his head and maybe even his heart.

He could deny it all he wanted, but Mason Campbell cared about Lauren Hart, the woman he used to despise and mock.

“Are you going to cry on me?”

A broad smile lingered on my face for a few seconds, my eyes taking in his amused expression.

“Are you offering your shoulder?” I asked, stopping less than an arm’s length away from him.

“There are some things I would like to offer.”

“Oh! Naughty, Mr. Campbell. There are so many sides to you, and some I haven’t even explored.”

I flicked his shirt with a finger, and he was quick to grab that finger and hold it in his palm, squeezing it.

“Ouch! Do you like it rough?”

He glared at me. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“You wouldn’t like what’s coming next,” he threatened, releasing my finger with a heated gaze.

“Oh, I haven’t told you that I like to be punished?”

His jaw clenched and I grinned.

“Lauren.”

“How would you like me? On my knees?” I asked softly in a hushed tone, making sure to blow small breaths on his face. “Bent against the counter? Flat on the ground? Clothed? Naked?”

I stood head to head and toe to toe with him, chest to chest, and I was the only one whose heart was beating so fast it could explode any second.

“Shut up.”

“You keep saying that, yet you don’t do anything about it.”

Before I could close my mouth, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me against the fridge, holding my arms like a cage.

He breathed down on me, the contact with his body hot and intrusive.

Gone was the softness of his eyes, now replaced by a cold, hard look.

Mason dropped his head into my hair, breathing in the scent. I closed my eyes.

I didn’t move, I didn’t try to push him away, and he remained in that position for what seemed like an eternity.

The silence of the room was punctuated with our irregular breathing and the agitated beating of our hearts.

“I know several ways to shut you up,” he whispered, releasing my arms from his hold. They fell down to my sides, and I stood very still. “One you couldn’t possibly imagine.”

And when I felt him put one hand on my side and the other on my head, I let him. In silence.

I allowed him to run his fingers through my hair and softly tousle them.

“One that will shake you up,” he continued, moving back far enough to see my face and his stare pierced with intensity. “And your breath will hitch.” He brushed his fingers over my nose and lips.

“Goosebumps will cover your arms.” A slight brush on my arm made me jerk forward.

“Sweat will trickle down your forehead.” His lips grazed over my forehead.

I was dazed.

I was drained.

I was frustrated.

~Kiss me, asshole.~

But he didn’t. He stepped away from me like he always did whenever he was about to fall deep.

I closed my eyes and listened to the noise that came from my chest before fluttering them open.

Our breathing was audible in the silence that followed and blanketed us, enveloping us in the tension we had been trying to ignore for weeks.

What are you so afraid of?

But I didn’t ask him that. Instead, I made my way around the island counter to stand by the fridge, turning around to open it and bring out a bottle of water.

I unscrewed it and wrapped my lips around the rim, sipping on it.

When I was satisfied, I strode over to him, never breaking eye contact as I offered him the same bottle, the rim covered with my red lipstick.

Mason glanced down at the bottle before glancing back up at me. My chest tightened, and instant fear kicked me right in the chest.

I had no idea what possessed me to do this, and knowing Mason, knowing how he might be able to mock me for this, I wanted to kick myself.

I couldn’t handle being rejected twice in the same day.

I slowly moved to turn away but kept my eyes on him.

A slow shake of his head stopped me from moving any further, glued to the spot, not moving and not turning away, and just a little bent to the right.

A small smirk scrawled across my face like I didn’t have the smallest concern about how this was going to end up.

It was as if time had swallowed down for this moment, the moment his hand had grasped my hand and wrenched the bottle out of it, but still kept his hold on me.

In that moment his eyes spoke a lot more than his mouth would have. A mouth that was slowly opening to connect with the rim of the bottle and my heart hammered in my chest.

Loud.

Watching.

Waiting.

For that moment his lips would touch mine.

And I swear, my heart stopped for a second.

It was the hottest thing I had ever seen.

He never took his eyes off me, almost like he knew what he was doing to me, and his heated gaze was adding more to the tension.

The moment his plump lips wrapped around the rim, I sucked in a breath.

Heat slowly pooled between my legs, no different from any other time.

He wasn’t drinking anything. He just kept his lips sealed around the rim, tasting me.

Drinking me in.

This was too intimate. His lips over where I had put mine, my lipstick touching his lips was overwhelming.

My breathing was agitated, irregular, and my chest followed the rhythm, going up and down in a haphazard way.

I felt the need for air, a dangerous and spasmodic need. Every fiber in my being responded.

Every part of me craved the same thing, and it wasn’t good. Not good at all.

The tension between us had morphed into something else, something that had always been there, buried deep within us.

Mason pulled his mouth away from the bottle, licking his lips to remove the lingering lipstick. My stomach twisted in response, my eyelids growing heavy.

I closed my eyes.

Just for a moment. Then I opened them again.

He was so close, so warm. Our breaths mingled together.

“Let’s eat.”

His voice was shaky, barely more than a whisper in the quiet room. I tried to ignore it.

I washed my face.

Ten times.

I screamed.

Fourteen times, each one barely audible. I didn’t know how much longer I could take it. My patience was wearing thin.

I was frustrated. With myself, but mostly with him.

The games were fun, but they were starting to spiral out of control. Starting to become dangerous.

It was already dangerous, and if neither of us was willing to take the risk, it needed to stop.

I’d always thought about Mason, almost constantly, wondering if he was okay, missing the warmth of his skin, the way his mouth curved, his gray eyes.

I wanted him because I’d always wanted him, from the first moment I saw him to the moment I started to hate him. I was still attracted to him.

And these past few months we’d spent together, I was sure he wanted me just as much. But he always held back. I assumed he was scared.

He didn’t need to tell me it had something to do with trust issues for me to know that. But I thought that after all the time we’d spent together, he would start to trust me.

He could finally let go of the pain from his past relationship and start to move forward.

I sat on my bed, half-watching the TV, half-watching the balcony where Mason was pacing back and forth, talking to someone.

He’d been on the phone for five minutes, and from the way he was clenching his jaw and his fist, I could tell it had something to do with what happened after we left his charity event.

His face told me he knew who had been following us, and whoever he was talking to wasn’t giving him the answers he wanted.

When he walked back into the bedroom, his face was tight. I watched him crawl into bed and glare at his phone.

“Everything okay?” I asked softly.

The bedroom was warm, and I was comfortable under the covers.

Mason lifted his head. “Everything’s fine,” he said, glancing at his phone again. I grabbed it out of his hand and shoved it down the front of my shirt. He glared at it. “That’s mature.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “What’s going on? Does it have to do with who was following us tonight? What did they want?”

“Why did you run away from the charity event?”

We stared at each other, neither of us willing to share what we knew. I wanted to tell him I’d seen my mother, but I was scared to learn more about her.

Like why she was at his charity event in the first place.

Like how he knew her, and if he’d been keeping secrets about her from me.

I didn’t need to know all these answers. I was scared to learn them.

I was scared to start distrusting him.

If Mason knew all about my mother, I was afraid of what that might mean for us. I hated being lied to, just like he did.

Somehow, I knew asking any questions about Ginny wouldn’t get me the answers I needed.

Digging for answers wouldn’t lead anywhere good, and I was in such a good place I didn’t want to leave.

I felt a sharp pain on my thigh and realized Mason had pinched me.

“Ouch!” I kicked him under the covers. “Watch it. My skin is sensitive, and I bite harder than you pinch.”

“Ladies don’t bite people. You’re Mason Campbell’s wife.”

I was tempted to kick him again, but all I could do was stare into his gray eyes. “I hope someday you realize you’re not God.”

He pinched me again. “I’m considered a god, and you can’t say anything about it. Be grateful you’re married to one.”

I burst out laughing and shoved him back. “Can’t wait for someone to knock you off your pedestal and make you realize you’re just like everyone else.”

“Don’t insult me.”

I shook my head, still smiling. “But seriously, Mason, are you okay? You’re not in any danger, are you?” I felt like he was hiding something big from me.

It wasn’t fair. It didn’t make me worry any less.

He tugged at my jeans, and I saw the smallest hint of a grin on his face. “Are you going to protect me from everyone? I’ve always been the one doing the protecting. I’ve never been protected.”

His words had a hidden meaning, and I was quick to pick up on it. “Who have you protected?” I wasn’t ready to feel jealous, but I did. Full force.

If Mason had protected someone, it meant that person was special to him.

“Someone who needed it,” he said quietly.

“When and who?”

“A while ago, and it’s none of your concern.”

I studied him, noticing he was tracing circles on my thigh with his finger, avoiding my gaze. He was uncomfortable with the conversation.

I wanted to ask him why, but something about the question felt too personal for him to answer.

“Didn’t Tom protect you?” I found myself asking.

He froze, staring at my leg for a moment before looking back at me. “I suppose he did. For a little while.”

“Bet you made him worry about you all the time. You were a total rebel, weren’t you?”

“I was.” He laughed. “I spent my weekends racing cars and bikes. Gale and I, along with a few friends, would leave home and spend a week without anyone knowing where we were.

“Tom would spend days freaking out, trying to find me. When I got mad, I’d disappear for two weeks.”

I could tell from the slight upturn of his lips and the spark in his voice that he must have had a blast during his teenage years. He had memories that he would always hold dear.

“Where’d you guys hang out?”

He chuckled lightly before answering, “Gale’s uncle had a secret condo in a secluded spot. It was our hideout. It’s not there anymore, though. We burned it down.”

“You did what?” I exclaimed, my eyes wide with shock. “You burned down an entire condo? You guys are nuts! Did you get in trouble?”

“Nope. Gale’s uncle didn’t really care about the place. He’d only been there once and he had five more. The only thing I got was a lecture from Tom. Worst half hour of my life.”

“I can’t believe you called me a handful as a kid when you were clearly worse.”

He traced my jawline with his finger. “You don’t know the half of it. I used to compete with Tom in everything, and he’d let me win every time.

“I was too caught up in my own world to realize that. Not until a few years later when I found out.”

“He sounds like a good brother,” I said, a small smile playing on my lips. I wanted to meet Tom, to see the man Mason spoke so fondly of, but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

When he was ready for me to meet his brother, he’d take me to him.

A shadow of a haunted look crossed his face. If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I would have missed it. “Yeah, the best.” He gently touched my throat and then pulled his hand away.

“You’re not coming back early tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll probably be back around midnight.” It was Aaron’s birthday tomorrow, and Athena was throwing him a party. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m his boss,” Mason reminded me sternly. “That would be unprofessional. I have a reputation to uphold. Do you want my employees to think I’m a pushover? To not respect me anymore?”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you get a kick out of seeing fear in their eyes, Mr. Campbell, sir?”

He shot me a glare.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I thought about Ginny and why she came back.

I thought about Mason, and what he might be keeping from me. I hoped it wouldn’t end up hurting us.

I was starting to realize that I wanted a deeper, more meaningful connection with him.

I wanted more than he was giving me.

And the thought of that scared me.