Page 6

He grabs two more and tugs one around my shoulders. “Let’s get you changed before you catch pneumonia.”

He steps back and indicates the house.

Still reeling from the fact that he knows about Bethany’s near drowning and the fear she has of water, I start walking before I realize that he’s still commanding and I’m obeying.

We reach the steps leading to the house, and I stop.

“What?”

“My room is upstairs.”

There are only two ways to get to my room—the kitchen and the front entrance. Both will be filled with guests, and I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Like Mason, I don’t want anything to ruin Bethany and Zach’s night.

“Come on, I’m staying in the pool house. You can use my bathroom,” Mason says.

I hesitate. Because,hello, I’m from Brooklyn. Only stupid-ass women in B-movies accept invitations like these. “No, thanks.”

He inhales. “If I wanted to harm you, I’d have done it on the beach, where I was less likely to be discovered.”

“Maybe you like toying with your victims first,” I challenge.

“You see yourself as a victim?” he asks with a touch of amusement.

“Only one way to find out. Try something,” I dare him.

He tunnels his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “This is why I hate these things,” he mutters beneath his breath. There’s a genuine bitterness in his tone that fans my interest higher.

“What things?” I ask, in spite of myself.

He shakes his head and starts to walk up the steps. “I’m sure you know where the pool house is. If you’re interested in getting out of those wet clothes, feel free to come inside. If not, it’s been… interesting meeting you.” He walks off and leaves me standing in the sand.

I swear I’m not going to follow him. That I’ll find a way to sneak inside the house and go up to my room without alerting anyone to my wet, disheveled state, or the frightening turmoil in my soul.

But then I look up and see Bethany and Zach standing at the kitchen window, their eyes devouring each other, the sheer depth of their love a living thing I can almost reach out and touch. And I know I can’t wreck their night with even a hint of my own personal drama.

For one thing, I suspect Bethany already knows there’s something up with me. She just hasn’t taken the time to tackle me about it because she’s been busy getting things ready for the party. If I show even the smallest hint of distress, she’ll be on me in a flash. I can’t let that happen. My emotions are too close to the surface for me to hide them adequately enough to fool her.

So I retrieve my shoes from the steps and trudge after Mason Sinclair.

I reach the pool house door and knock. For several minutes, he doesn’t answer. I curse under my breath and start to turn away.

The door opens, and he fills the space. Larger than life and wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. In the brighter light I see that his hair is a dark chocolate brown, and his eyes are indeed a golden hazel. His mouth is both sensual and cruel, as if he’s seen things in life he’s loved and hated at the same time.

And his body. God, I don’t even bother to hide my interest in his body.

Lean but muscular in a way only a seasoned athlete can achieve, there’s a tensile strength in him, a latent energy pulsing through him that reeks of danger and the not-so-civilized.

My scrutiny reaches his very masculine feet, and I try not to smirk at the size of them. But my gaze travels back up and lingers at his groin. The thickness outlined against the black cotton is impressive, but I wish I have X-ray vision right now. I want to see the real thing. I want?—

“If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s this way.” He interrupts my porny thoughts, and a flush crawls up my face as I lift my gaze from his crotch.

“I… Thanks.” I avoid his probing stare as I slide past him and enter the large living room.

As with the main house, the pool house has been designed with luxurious comfort in mind. Heated floors warm my feet as I walk through the cream and black decorated room. Expensive landscapes adorn the walls, and a couple of sculptures on pedestals complement the thick sofas and entertainment center arranged in front of a large, already lit stone fireplace.

I go past the two master bedrooms to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Shutting the door on the intense gaze I can feel boring into my back, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I quickly disrobe and shrug on the smaller of the two guest bathrobes hanging at the back of the door. Opening a drawer in the vanity, I find a new hairbrush and run it through my shoulder-length hair, all without meeting my eyes in the mirror. I know what I’ll see. Weariness. Bitterness. Guilt. But I’m too exhausted to deal with it tonight.