chasing damnation ✔

-twenty-

A V E R Y
When I awoke, it took me a second to realise that, no, I had not been kidnapped or taken hostage again - I was in Mason's safe house. Mason himself was sleeping next to me.

During the night, it seemed we had almost... gravitated towards each other, and now I was curled into his chest, both of his arms wrapped around me tight. This close to him, I smelt the boyish scent that radiated from him as well as that familiar cologne, light and musky.

His features were softened in the way only sleep could do to a person - the tight lines of his body relaxed, and his face looked so much younger. His dimples were barely there, just slight dents in his tanned cheek. If I hadn't mentioned it before, I'll say it again.

Mason Woods was hot. Extremely so. Almost too good to be true.

I lifted my head up a little from where it was curled into his chest, and saw from the windows that I was up early. It was dawn, and the sun was just beginning to rise, light peeking up over the horizon tentatively.

My gaze returned to Mason again, and maybe it was because I was so close to him, or maybe because I was delirious, but, damn it all, my eyes focused on his mouth, the bow of his lips, how it would feel to-

What is wrong with you, Avery? Get a bloody grip on yourself.

I was about to look away, but it seemed as if the world was against me, because it was at that moment that Mason's eyes flicked open, clear as day.

'Admiring the view, love?' His voice was a rasp, and lord help me, my toes curled at the sound of it.

'Oh don't be so vain.' I retorted, my voice cool, a contrast to my hammering heart. 'And besides, I look better than you.'

He glanced pointedly at my hair, and I mentally screamed at myself for not making it look decent. When I reached up to smooth it down from the nest it had made itself, a warm hand clasped my wrist. 'Don't. I like it. You look cute.'

I blinked at him, about to pull away, but his hand released my wrist and grasped my hand instead. I sucked in a breath, suddenly finding it hard to breathe when he looked at me like that.

'Why?' I whispered, 'Why do you look at me like that?'

He leaned closer to me, his head bent, 'Because something about you intrigues me, Avery Green. And I would like to figure what it is. Though I have an idea.'

'What is it?'

He kissed my nose lightly, and I ignored the roiling of butterflies in my stomach. 'I'm not going to tell you.' Mason grinned, that nefarious dimple appearing. My stomach flipped, but again I ignored it.

'Prick,' I muttered, and made to pull away. He chuckled, the sound skittering along my spine, and refused to let go.

It was then that I realised that I wasn't in the towel and robe that I'd fallen asleep in last night. I had shorts on and a huge white shirt. 'Why the bloody hell am I changed?'

My face must've been outraged, because Mason winced almost imperceptibly. 'You were soaking wet in that robe. I couldn't leave you like that, could I? I changed you, and I swear I didn't look. You were making me all wet.'

Curse my dirty mind, but his words were so serious that I couldn't help but laugh. 'You don't even know what you just said.'

A brow flicked up. 'What did I say, then?' His voice was a throaty purr by now, and, yep, my toes were definitely at the point of fracturing, they'd curled up so much.

I tilted my face higher, so that when I spoke, I was close enough to kiss him. 'You said something that sounded extremely wrong when you put it in context, Mason?' He didn't even flinch, the bastard.