Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) Page 7

  So, it seemed the kiss wouldn’t really mean anything to Mason. It would just be a whimsical, random event—his usual—but this time, just with a side of favor.

  I took a deep breath, then put my hands on either side of his whiskery (gorgeous) face. His eyes twinkled at that, like it was hilarious that I was so nervous, and it seemed he didn’t really think I would go through with it—kissing him in front of the whole school, practically … just to prove a point to a stupid boy that I didn’t even care about. In all honesty, Mason didn’t seem to really, truly think I’d really go through with it.

  I swallowed, then whispered, “Here goes.”

  He breathed out another soft laugh. “Okay.”

  His little puff of laugh warmed my lips and made me giddy. Was I really going to do this? Kiss Mason again? The last time had caused such turmoil to my heart … and he hadn’t even kissed me back!

  Still, the thought of him actually doing it—of putting his big, strong, Mason arms around me and actually kissing me back this time—made my insides ignite … even if the kiss was just for show. Because really and truly—I needed it to just be for show. Something casual and light and breezy. I couldn’t handle a real kiss from Mason. I knew that. But this would be fun. Exciting. A fake kiss. It would actually be perfect—it wouldn’t change things between us. It would just be … awesome.

  With an excited shiver, I realized this was what I’d been craving—a moment exactly like this. One where I could kiss Mason but it wouldn’t have to mean anything.

  Trembling, I closed my eyes and gently, tentatively pressed my lips against Mason’s. Heard him groan softly against my lips. Mmm.

  Heaven.

  I felt his intake of breath. Then his large hands tangled in my hair as his hot, tantalizing mouth responded to mine—first cautiously, then like a tidal wave.

  Purrr!!!

  Oh, man! Our warm, timid, oh-so-succulent kiss ignited in a flash of sparks—so fast and hot!!! Growing from delightfully pleasant to all-consuming passion in a matter of seconds. Growing steamy and fast and powerful, making my pulse skyrocket and my body melt into a puddle.

  Whoa!!

  This is MASON kissing me!!!

  The world spun and my heart yearned.

  I couldn’t get over it—This is Mason’s kiss. Holy smokes!!

  It was blowing my mind.

  Just having him so close, his mouth on mine, was making my body shiver with excitement. But his kiss—holy smokes!!! My skin was on fire.

  Yet it went on. Mason’s fervent kiss—giving me a dizzy, passionate, heart-stopping thrill. I could feel it all the way down my body—even in my knees. Yes, I could feel his masterful, succulent kiss in my knees! That’s how awesome it was. It made my knees weak and wobbly. Like if he wasn’t holding me (so tight!!!) I’d topple to the ground.

  But he was holding me so tight!!!

  That realization had me on fire, and I still couldn’t fully believe it was really happening—Mason was kissing me—really kissing me—so hungry and possessive. It was like my dreams—exactly like them. Just as steamy and seductive and … perfect.

  But, sigh … it was all for show.

  As I breathlessly (reluctantly) started to pull away from him, Mason seemed to think we should give stupid, smirking Ian a bigger, better production. Apparently. ‘Cause—shock!!—instead of letting me go as I’d expected, he leaned deeper into the kiss with tiny growl, continuing to explore my mouth with his hot velvet tongue, little moans escaping from him that were driving me wild.

  To my thrilled surprise, Mason’s breathing was as fast as the pounding of my thundering heart, yet he gently held my head and deepened the kiss even further. Every part of me came alive. His hands swept into my hair, and suddenly we were kissing as though there was no tomorrow.

  This was Mason. Big, tough Mason—with has hands in my hair and his tongue in my mouth and his lips devouring mine.

  It rocked my entire planet.

  His hot, ravenous kisses were seducing me. Coaxing me into a twirling, spinning, tilting world that only consisted of him. There was no longer a party or an Ian, or a Justin with a fancy hot tub.

  There was only Mason and his hot, yummy mouth and his heart-exploding kiss. That was all there was. All I wanted.

  When we finally pulled away, Mason had to hold me up. We stood frozen and breathless, staring into each other’s eyes as the world came back—the party and Ian and the silly reason we had kissed. Mason wasn’t smiling or teasing anymore. Not like I expected. He was flushed. And looked breathless—and as amazed as I felt.

  “Whoa, that was—” I didn’t get to finish whatever I was sputtering—not that I knew how I was going to finish the sentence anyway. I was just saying words to say something because there was this thick impassioned silence hovering between us. My heart was pounding way too hard and fast, leaving me feeling the need to fill the charged moment with meaningless words.

  But Becca came bouncing up to us all fluttering and chirping. “Wow! You guys made us all need to go home and take ice-cold showers. Ha!” She laughed giving me little pats on the back like I was her idol for putting on such a salivating show. (Normally I don’t even kiss guys in front of people—not even little pecks.) She laughed again, this time self-consciously. “I thought you two were like brother and sister—well, did. Not anymore, of course. Whoa! Talk about a heated kiss.” She leaned toward me confidential like. “There’s more of a make-out-type thing happening in the back den. You guys come join!”

  Once she scampered off, I peeked back at Mason, half-hoping he was interested in the make-out idea. I mean, I still had tingles. (Magical, sparkling tingles!!) And I was still all flushed and panting and completely dizzy. It sort of seemed like a night with the word “Free Pass” attached to it. Like we could do whatever we wanted tonight—kiss to our happy, excited hearts’ content. Then tomorrow we’d do like we did before—pretend the kiss never happened.

  “What do you think?” I asked Mason shyly, feeling these excited tickles and summersaults stir around in the pit of my stomach.

  Just thinking of us kissing some more had me seeing stars and confetti and teeny, tiny little hearts and flowers. I raised my eyebrows, “Want to check out the make-out room for a little bit?”

  Okay, I do have to admit—I do like a good kiss. It puts me in a good mood. And willing to try daring things—like even asking Mason if he wants to make-out. (Eeek!)

  Mason didn’t seem in the same kind of mood though.

  He ran a hand over his face. Then shook his head slowly, seeming kind of tortured. (Tortured!!!) “I don’t think we should.” His jaw muscles ticked, and he leaned the back of his head against the wall. “I thought I could do this … but I can’t.”

  My heart fell.

  I’d done it again, right?—crossed the line. And put him in an awkward position.

  It’s just … I’d thought maybe (well, no, really and truly believed) we could enjoy the kiss for what it was—just some juicy, yummy, exciting fun. But of course, Mason was different than me. He really saw me as a kid sister—someone to protect, not kiss. And really, well, that was sweet. It bit … but it was sweet.

  “I’m sorry, Mason,” I murmured. “I shouldn’t have done that.” I brought my fingers to my sensitive kiss-swollen lips, wanting to do it again, even as I said the words. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s just … ” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Summer, I liked it. A lot.”

  My insides lit up like a firecracker.

  “Me too!” I couldn’t help adding, “I was sort of hoping you’d want to go in the back-den and do it some more.”

  He shook his head slightly. “No. You don’t get it, Summer. I liked it more than you.”

  I breathed out an incredulous laugh. “No way. I liked it a lot—obviously.” I mean, he’d had to hold me up after his kiss to keep me from toppling over.

  Just to prove my point, I admitted, “I wanted to keep going.”

  “Yeah
, so did I.” Mason leaned his head back against the wall. “But that’s a problem.”

  I drew out a frustrated breath. Why did he have to over-think everything when it came to me? Ugh!!! “So is this going to make you stop being my friend again?”

  Mason’s eyes dragged away from me. He stared up at the ceiling. “Look, I never stopped being your friend.” His eyes closed, then lingered back on mine. “I got interested in girls. Summer, I’m a guy. Give me a break.”

  “I’m a girl!”

  He breathed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I see that. Believe me, I know you’re a girl.”

  Okay, I guess I got the problem—sort of. I huffed in frustration. “Well, you didn’t have to run off and start avoiding me.”

  “Yeah Summer, actually, I sort of did.” He ran a hand over his face, looking tired. “Look, Summer, we don’t see each other the same. You see me as … well, I don’t know what you see me as. But I see you as someone who can either be my sister—which means you’re off limits. Or you’re not my sister … in which case, you need to lock your bedroom door.” His eyes narrowed. “But you can’t be both, Summer.” His gaze washed over me. “’Cause I can’t handle that.”

  He pushed a hand through his sandy hair looking uncomfortable. “Come on, let’s go.”

  So, we left the party way early. Ian watched us leave. But he sure wasn’t smirking anymore.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I’m going to bed,” Mason stretched and said as soon as we got home from Becca’s party.

  My shoulders drooped as I trailed beside him in the dim hallway.

  What a strange, drama-filled night this ended up to be. For a tiny while it had almost seemed like Mason and I were friends again. Almost close—like we used to be. But of course my stupid kiss had gone and ruined everything—again.

  Cautiously my gaze cut to Mason. “Are you mad at me?”

  His eyes were on me. He shook his head slightly seeming wary rather than mad. “No, I’m not mad. I told you you could kiss me—I thought you could. I didn’t think it would matter anymore. I didn’t think it would be so …” He didn’t finish his statement. Instead, he curled his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m not mad. I’m not. I’m just tired. I’m going to bed.” His brow rose. “You’re welcome to come if you want.”

  I dropped my jaw, heat running through me. He’d never said anything like that to me before. Ever. “You’re acting mad.”

  He gave me a sardonic look. Then said dryly, “Look Summer, I’m not your brother. I’m not even technically related to you—and we just made-out hot and heavy at a party. Don’t be offended that I’m acting like a guy.”

  “I’m offended that you’re acting like a jerk.”

  “Good night, Summer,” was all he said.

  Then he went into his room and shut the door and I stood in the hallway just watching him go, my heart aching, wondering what happened to us. Why we were falling apart. But really I knew … it was all my fault. Me and my stupid kiss.

  CHAPTER 25

  The day after Becca’s party I slept in until late. Zoey was always busy with Finn these days. We hardly ever hung out anymore. And none of my other friends really interested me. Not enough for me to like, call them. Or even text them. Usually. Not unless I found myself bored—which didn’t really happen that often. I was a busy girl—what with cheerleading and dance practices … and boys. Too many boys, sometimes. But none of them really interested me that much lately. Except Mason. Suddenly, he interested me way too much. But not in the friendly way like it used to be. Now all I could do was think about his kiss. And want another one. Really, really bad. Even though I knew it was wrong and only caused problems.

  When I finally got out of bed, I decided I’d make amends with Mason. Make us be close again—like we were before I started dreaming about his kiss.

  I could do it—I could be strong. Be totally “sisterly” and stomp out any thoughts about Mason’s talented, awe-inspiring tongue and gorgeous, tempting, passion-filled lips. Sigh. No, I could do it—I could!!—it would just require a lot of dunking my head into buckets of ice water. Shudder.

  Still, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do … and I wanted Mason back in my life. Desperately.

  I padded down to the kitchen and found Mason sitting at the kitchen table reading a sports magazine. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” I asked.

  Mom worked weekends now with this guy she was dating—at some home-goods shop he owned, where you could buy lumber for do-it-yourself projects. I don’t think mom was really that interested in the guy. I think she wanted our kitchen remolded. But whatever. She wasn’t around on weekends to bake anymore. Not that she did that much anymore these days anyway. Or ever.

  Mason shook his head, dragging his eyes away from the magazine. “I just got up.”

  “Want me to make pancakes?” I asked with a coaxing smile.

  The corners of Mason’s lips twitched with a lazy grin. “Sure.”

  As I went about looking for the proper ingredients for my mouthwatering pancakes, Mason asked, “Are you going to add chocolate chip smiley faces to them?”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  Mason’s mom died when he was young. He missed growing up with chocolate chip smiley faces in everything—so I always made them for him. Of course he was gigantically muscular and huge, and too old for chocolate-chip happy faces (well, I’m sure people assumed he was), but I still put them on all of his baked goods anyway. You know, since he didn’t get them when he was a little kid. And they made him smile. Probably because he thought I was a dork. But whatever. At least he smiled. (I adored his smile—especially when it came from something I did.)

  We ate the pancakes together and played this board game that was at the table while we ate. It was one where you add words to the other person’s words. Mason kept making dirty sentences. Out of everything. It made me laugh.

  He smiled at my laugh, his eyes twinkling. Seeing him smiling at me like that, my stomach did strange flips and cartwheels and other complicated acrobats.

  Actually, the way he kept looking at me as we sat together, it made me wonder if he was thinking of me as a sister … or something else. Our relationship had become so strange (and strained) lately, I really had no idea how he thought of me anymore.

  All I knew was—I couldn’t ask him to kiss me. Or yearn for him to kiss me. I needed us to stay close. I’d die if I lost Mason. Yet that’s how it felt lately—like I was losing him.

  “Can we spend the day together?” I asked impulsively. “Just you and me?”

  He didn’t exactly look adverse to the idea—but he was a busy guy, what with work and hockey and girls. And girls. And girls. He tilted his head, then teased, “Don’t you have a hot date?—a new guy’s heart to break?”

  “Not today.” I feigned a sigh, mocking-seriousness. “I’ll demolish my next relationship next week.” Enough of that. I turned earnest. “Today I want to repair a relationship—ours.”

  Mason’s eyes washed over me. He nodded slightly. “That sounds good,” he said softly. He downed his orange juice, his eyes still on me. “I have to go down to the museum though and look at some tribe exhibit to make up for a social studies assignment.” His brow rose, “You wanna come?”

  My heart did a little dance of happiness.

  He knew I did.

  I’m sure my eyes lit up, and so did my insides, wondering if he really needed to go to the museum or if he was just trying to give me a treat without really coming out and saying it. I loved the museum. I used to drag Mason there a lot (like every weekend) when we were in middle school. The place was free, so I could actually go as often as I wanted. But mom was always working or dating or busy. Too busy to take me anyway. But I couldn’t go alone—or even with a friend. Well, I did sometimes—go with a friend. But I always felt way safer with Mason. See, I had a horrifying experience at the library once. (It’s a horrible, traumatic story that I don’t want to talk about. Ever.) It left me kind
of afraid to go to public places. Or private place. Or anywhere really. That’s why I was so glad to have Mason come live with us. (Well, one of the many, many reasons.) He was so big and tough—I felt safe with him. Like he was my own private bodyguard.

  Mason drove us to the museum on his motorcycle. (As soon as he was old enough, he traded in his motor-scooter for a smokin’ hot bike. Mom couldn’t really tell him no—since he paid for it himself … and his dad had said he could buy it. So, she just shuddered every time he rode off on it—which was constantly … but usually without me.)

  At the museum, I sketched like crazy. I love to sketch the statues there—and well, really everything. I love to sketch. Mason jotted down some notes about some tribal exhibit, but mostly, he just hung out with me—and watched me. It was kind of unnerving to be lost in my work then look up and see Mason’s dark eyes so fixed on me. It made me tremble and feel dizzy. Well, that—plus a lot of other stuff. Like made my heart pound and my insides quiver and my hands shake, and, you know, made it so I forgot how to breathe.

  It also made me heat up in flames—big time—because it made me remember his kiss … in vivid, tasty detail. All of it. His hot hands in my hair, his heated breath on my neck, his hungry, passion-igniting mouth devouring mine. Mmmm. Tasty, yummy stuff.

  So, yeah, Mason’s eyes on me—it sort of did the exact same thing to me as his lips on me … made me need a bucket of ice-water. Bad.

  You’re his sister, you’re his sister, you’re his sister. I kept trying to remind myself of that every time I looked up. But the way his eyes were glued to me … boy, it was hard. Where was that bucket of ice-water?

  Mason bought me lunch at this pizza place just a few buildings away from the museum. It was the same place we used to always go back when we were in middle school. It gave me these strange little tickles in my stomach to be there with him again. The whole experience left me feeling achingly nostalgic and … wonderful.