I couldn’t have cared less whether the piece went viral, or never amounted to anything more than kindling. I could not handle losing him again.
“Dad, I’m doing this for you, not for them.”
“I thought you were doing it for you.”
“I am. I’m doing it for both of us.”
“You’re not hearing me, Jett.” Mason rubbed his eyes. “I’m not going to paint you.”
“Because you’re worried about my career prospects?”
“Because you’re mine.” The edge in his voice told me not to push, but there was something in the way he said the word mine that hooked its claws in me. A twinge of anguish, the threat of darkness buried, something protective about his straight-backed stance.
No, not just protective.
Possessive.
Maybe there was a reason Mason had turned his mouth toward mine yesterday, the same reason he’d chosen not to confront me about spying on him. What if, when he spread my legs and touched my pussy and got hard watching me masturbate, it wasn’t just a biological response?
I had spent the last twenty-four hours wondering if I was going crazy, when perhaps the truth lay somewhere on the ground between us.
Like the apple that never falls far from the tree.
“The kiss,” I said, gazing up at him. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
Mason eyed me like he would a predator, like I was something dangerous. Maybe I was. He shook his head no.
“Then this is real, what I’m feeling? It’s not just in my head?”
“Only you know what you’re feeling,” he said. “But no, it’s not all in your head.”
I brought my fingers to my lips. Now that the pain in my foot had subsided, all I could think about was the fact that the man I’d called Daddy had wanted to kiss me. Not on the cheek or the forehead. On the
mouth. Like a lover.
This attraction, this completely inappropriate desire I was battling, wasn’t one-sided. Mason wanted this as much as I did. Wanted it so badly he hadn’t been able to stop himself from kissing me, touching me, watching me.
A current of arousal quivered up my spine, making my skin tingle and my inner muscles clench. I was turned on again—and confused and conflicted. But still...
“I’m sorry, Jett,” he said. “I didn’t know it would be like this. I never thought I wouldn’t be able to control myself, especially around you. But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to touch you again… or ask you to sit for me. I’ll keep my distance, let you have the run of the house and the studio. I’ll even leave the apartment, if it’d make you more comfortable.”
I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to stop sitting for him either, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to keep his distance. I wanted him to pull me close, run his fingers through my hair, and then kiss me for real. A kiss with the power to turn back the clock and make me forget he’d ever left me.
“What if I don’t want any of that?” I asked.
His expression shuttered. “Then I’ll drive you to the airport and get you a first-class ticket home.”
“That’s not what I want either.”
He held out his hands. “Tell me what to do here, Jett, and I’ll do it.”
My thoughts raced like frenzied kittens around in my head. For the life of me, I couldn’t drum up the words to tell him what I needed, all the things I wanted him to do to me.
Shameful things. Unspeakable things. Nasty, dirty, forbidden things.
Fortunately, some languages are universal.
I untied the sash around my waist and opened the robe, letting it slide off my shoulders. Mason’s gaze dipped to my breasts, the look on his face equal parts apprehension and arousal.