After a beat, she nods dutifully. “I solemnly swear not to laugh, gasp or lecture you.”
“Don’t even change your facial expression.”
“I won’t! Tell me.” We both glance at the clock on the wall. “We only have, like, five minutes until we can officially start complaining about our first times.”
My palms start to sweat. “Here’s the thing. I don’t know if I’m going to be complaining.” I close my eyes and blurt the rest. “I know who my customer is.”
“What? How? Estelle didn’t tell us.” She gapes at me. “Who is it?”
“This is where the no judgment part is critical,” I whisper, watching her face carefully. Perhaps for confirmation that I am, indeed, nutso. “It’s my step-uncle Mase.”
I’m really asking a lot of our no judgment clause here.
Alana’s face turns bright red. She’s become a human pressure cooker.
“How did you know that?” she asks, her voice strangled.
My nerves cause me to pace. “He was over at my house for dinner and I might have snuck a peek at his iPhone contacts. I, um…might have been looking for women’s number to delete. Weirdly, there weren’t any. But anyway. I found the number to this place, but there was no name. Mysterious. So I called it and…” She stops and turns on a heel, smacking her palms together. “Bam. I find the brothel that has been operating under our small-town noses this whole time.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Please don’t tell me you’re wearing that mask because…”
“I don’t want him to know it’s me.” I throw another glance at the clock. “It’s a long story. I’ve been in love with him for years and…look, we’ll talk about it after.”
“After you bugger your uncle!?”
My mouth falls open on a gasp. “That sounds like judgment.” Lamely, I add, “And he’s my step-uncle.”
Alana is prepared to grill me, but before she gets the chance, Estelle enters the room, looking every inch the small-town church lady. It’s a killer disguise. She pats me on the arm. “Room five, dear. He’s ready.”
My hand settles on the doorknob and a million butterflies are set loose in my belly.
This is by far the wildest thing I’ve ever done, but Mase left me on the precipice of self-discovery two days ago. The unused muscles between my legs have been in a permanent clench since he left me panting on my bed. Nothing compares to the ache in my chest, though.
The first time I ever walked into my dining room and saw Mase, I knew he would be important to me. My gut tells me I’m important to him, too. Way more than he’s letting on. So while I know I’m doing something a little reckless—and a lot deceptive—I tell myself this is for us. No one ever got what they wanted by sitting on the sidelines, right?
Mase is the man in my life.
If I can just eradicate limits he’s put on our relationship, I’ll be the woman in his.
I’ve always suspected that, despite Mase’s confidence, he doesn’t think himself a good match for me (our related-by-marriage status aside). Perhaps he feels that way because of his prison record. Or maybe because of the MC lifestyle he lived that landed him there. The words he spoke in the heat of frustration the other day seemed to confirm my theory.
Listen to me. I’ve got no business putting my cock in a sweet thing like you. You’re going to college. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.
Don’t you dare fuck it up for someone like me.
Remembering how anguished he sounded starts a burn in my chest and I turn the knob, prepared to show my step-uncle exactly how worthy of my love he is. What happens in this room tonight is going to determine the direction of our relationship and I’m nervous as heck, but I’m beyond anxious to feel the passion of his touch again. My body is already humming from being so close to all of his intense masculine energy.
Before I step fully into the room, I reach in and dim the light, leaving the room almost dark. Having him recognize me right away would seriously put a dent in my plan, so yesterday I lopped off several inches of my hair, leaving it swinging just below my shoulders. Throw in the extremely low light and I shouldn’t be in danger of premature discovery.
With a deep breath I glide through the opening and close the door behind me, leaning up against it. And oh my God, there’s my uncle, sprawled out in a chair looking predatory, impatient and fueled up. The muscles in his big thighs flex at my arrival, a line jumping in his cheek. His size and the sheer maleness of him makes the room feel dainty in comparison. Makes me feel that way, too. Like a bunny rabbit willingly being sacrificed to a lion.