Page 5 of Damsel in Defense
“Oh” is all I’m able to say, still captivated by his lips.
“I’m Mason.”
“Oh.Umm.Tori.”I fumble my words.“Victoria, actually, but most everyone calls me Tori.”
“Very nice to meet you, Victoria.”Mason lifts our already clasped hands and shakes them up and down.
That gets a real laugh out of me.This is so ridiculous.Him using my full name has tingles dancing down my spine.
We sit there, again in silence, but this time gazing at each other with stupid grins on our faces.The spell is only broken by the high-pitched yell of a child in the distance.
Shit.I needed to get back to the wedding.
I try not to focus on the pit of disappointment that forms in my stomach at the thought of leaving Mason.
“I need to get back.I literally ran from my brother’s wedding.Didn’t want to ruin his big day with my drama.”
“Victoria.”Mason’s tone tells me he doesn’t appreciate my self-deprecating humor.“A panic attack is notdrama.It’s serious.”
He’s right.I know he’s right, but I can’t get into all the details and all the reasons why others may not see it like that.I know he understands…but he would be in the minority.
Not wanting to leave him with a bad impression of me—even if we’re not ever going to see each other again—I nod and begin to stand.As soon as I’m on my feet, a wave of dizziness washes over me, and I lose my balance.
I teeter to the side, knowing I’m headed for a face plant in the fountain, when strong arms wrap around my waist.My arms instinctually circle Mason’s neck as he holds me up, pressing his chest hard into mine.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
His chest rises and falls against mine, steady and strong, and it takes everything in me not to just melt into him.My fingers are curled around the back of his neck, and I can feel the heat of his skin under my palms.He smells like cedarwood and the ocean breeze, and I swear I forget how to breathe again—but not from panic this time.
Fromhim.
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly, his voice rumbling against my temple.
“I noticed,” I whisper back.
My heart is pounding, but it’s not fear anymore.It’s something much more dangerous.
If I were anyone else, if it was any other time in my life, I would be bold and ask this man to spend the night with me.It would be an absolute pleasure to lose myself to him for a brief moment in time.A sizzling night that I would hold dear on cold, lonely nights.
But I can’t.When I made the decision to leave the rock band I was in with my brother, Stolen Sundays, and make the move to country, I knew there would be sacrifices.One of them being that I had to uphold a cleaner, more wholesome image.To a point though.A girl has to break free every now and then.
It’s ridiculous, I know, and I still had fun, but I’d never been tempted to have a one-night stand with a stranger.
Until now.
It’s not my style…but for one night, I could pretend.
His hands stay firm around my waist, not rushing to let go.There’s a possibility that maybe he feels it too—that invisible pull.Like we’ve both just stepped out of time, and the only thing that exists is the air between us.
I tilt my head back to look up at him.Bad idea.His eyes—those impossibly clear blue eyes—are already watching me, searching my face for something I’m not sure I even know how to interpret.
His gaze dips to my lips.
Oh boy.
My breath hitches.He notices.
Then, slowly,reluctantly, he steps back, lowering his arms.I drop mine too, immediately feeling colder.
