Chapter Six
Layla
I leavethe house early the next morning. I know why, too—because I’m trying to dodge Mason before he comes over to get his pool equipment. And it’s all because in the cold light of day, I woke up mortified about what happened last night. Yes, it was hot, and yes, he made me feel so fucking sexy jerking off to me while I touched myself. But sober, and in the daylight, I can’t stop thinking how horribly inappropriate it was.
I mean for fuck’s sake, he’s twenty-one.
Yeah, and crazy hot. And achingly tempting. And hung, and growly, and capable of turning me into a fucking puddle with one word.
I shiver and step into my car and start the engine. The garage doors open, and I pull out and down my driveway. Regardless of Mason’s ability to turn me into a dripping wet horny mess, I’m fairly certain seeing him right now would make me catch on fire with embarrassment.
I drive the hills, I go for a small hike, and I even hit the beach in Malibu for a little while. Hours later though, I finally slink back home. I park in the garage and exit through the side door into the backyard, and I freeze.
Oh you’re fucking kidding me.
All of that, and his shit is still sitting there next to my pool. I sigh and exhale slowly. Okay, this is ridiculous. Last night was stupid and insane and maybe a little embarrassing today, but I’m a grown ass woman. Just like he’s a grown ass man. A very, very grown up man, I think with a blush.
But regardless, I won’t be shamed out of my own pool.
I change into a bikini, and I head back outside for a swim. It’s a typically scorching hot summer day in LA, and the water feels divine as I swim some laps. When my muscles are aching, I hang off the side of the pool, panting. I climb out and sink into a lawn chair before I turn over and reach for my phone. I open my reading app and start to page through a mystery I was getting into, but slowly, I can feel my eyelids growing heavier. The warm sun teases my skin, and I slowly let myself start to drift off, face down on the lounger.
“You should put some sunblock on.”
I gasp, startling out of my half-sleep. My head whips around, and I blush furiously when I see Mason standing there smirking at me. My cheeks burn hot when I realize I was definitely just daydreaming about him.
“Mason,” I say shortly.
“Layla,” he purrs. He winks. At least he’s fucking dressed this time, in shorts and a tank top. “How was your night?”
My blush deepens, and I bite my lip.
“Your… uh, your thing is over there.” I nod at the hose attachment that I’ve looped up and set to the side.
Mason grins. “So nice of you to treat my hose so nicely.”
I blush again, and I groan before I roll onto my back and sit up. I curl my legs underneath myself and sigh, looking him in the eye. Okay, time to be the grown up here.
“Look, Mason.”
“Yes?”
I swallow. “Last night—”
“Last night only whet my appetite,” he growls, and I gasp as he steps closer to me, slinking just like a jungle cat.
“It’s…” I shiver. “It’s not happening again, Mason. Not an appetizer. That was the whole meal.”
He arches a brow. “I disagree.”
“Well, sorry,” I say brusquely, trying to keep cool. “Mason, whatever happened yesterday…” I frown. “It’s over, okay? It’s done. Last night is never happening again.”
“No?” he sighs, grinning. His hand comes up, and he pushes his fingers through his hair, and it takes every bit of my willpower not to stare at his bicep or the way his tank top pulls put to show a glimpse of his abs.
“Guess you’d better install some better shades, or a shutter on your bathroom window, then,” he grins.
“Mason—”
“Because Layla, I just can’t promise that I won’t be there again tonight, in my room, doing the same thing.”