“That’s the spirit.” I stop myself from reaching out and patting her ass, contenting myself with walking close beside her. While I might have no problem with announcing whatever’s going on between us to the wider world, I don’t know that Viola wants me to do that. So for now, I’ll hold off. Hold back.
At least in public.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Viola
Nerves flutter in my belly as I walk down the hall of our hotel with Mason, saying goodnight to the others as they head to their rooms.
I fiddle with the strap of my bag as Mason unlocks his room, tossing me a smoldering smile as he holds the door open for me. With a deep breath, I step inside.
It’s silly being this nervous. I’ve been in every single one of his hotel rooms, including this one just this morning.
But I’ve never been in his room with the express purpose of spending time in his company.
And that kiss in his dressing room …
Is he expecting more of that?
More than that?
I’m flustered and out of sorts and I don’t know what to think.
He called me Viola. What does that mean?
What do I want it to mean?
What does he want it to mean?
So many questions and no answers, and if I ask him all my questions, will he answer them or just laugh at me or kiss me again?
Okay, so, after the kiss the other night and then that one today, I suspect he’d like to kiss me again regardless. But will he tell me what he’s thinking before? After?
Ever?
This man has me all twisted up and turned around, and the kissing doesn’t help make anything more clear.
He clears his throat behind me. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want a water while we wait for room service?”
I spin around. Or I would, but my giant bag hampers the speed of my spinning. Ducking my head, I lift it off my body and drop it on the floor next to the couch in the sitting area. I can do this. I can be normal.
I offer him a smile. “Sure. Water would be great.”
He crosses to the table and grabs one of the bottles I set there this morning, cracking it open before passing it to me. Still standing in the middle of the room, I take a sip, watching him as he watches me. “Do you want me to call down and let room service know we’re here?” I ask.
That same scowl he gave me earlier resurfaces. “No. I told you, you’re not here to be my PA. I can do that.” He crosses to the phone on the desk, picks up the handset and pushes a few buttons. His low voice sends tingles up and down my spine, even though he’s saying the most mundane things.
When he hangs up the phone and turns around to perch on the edge of the desk, I work up my courage. “If I’m not here to be your PA, why am I here?”
His eyebrows climb his forehead, and he crosses his arms as he studies me. “You really have to ask that question?”
I spread my arms in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t really know what exactly you expect from me, Mason.”
“I don’t expect anything,” he says coolly. Standing, he moves closer to me, his brow wrinkled. “Wait … are you …” With a sigh, he shakes his head and starts over. “I only want you here if you want to be here. You get that, right? You can say no. I won’t be mad.”
“I can say no to what?” What is he asking, exactly?
He spreads his arms. “Anything. Everything.” Blowing out a breath, he rubs a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel pressured about anything. I know you handed me my ass the first day, but … just … if you want to go back to your room, I won’t make your life harder this time.”
We stare at each other for several long moments, him waiting, me trying to formulate a response. Finally, I clear my throat. “I’ve always known how to say no to you, Mason. If I wanted to be in my room, I would be.”
The tension leaks out of his body by degrees as the full meaning of my words sinks in. One corner of his mouth lifts in a sexy smirk, and he takes two more steps closer, his hand going to my waist. “Yeah? So what’s with the nerves and acting like you don’t know what I want?” Before I can answer, he dips his head and his lips connect with mine.
He makes no move to deepen the kiss, and neither do I. My hand lands on his arm, and the warm contact of his lips on mine grounds me. Settles me. The fluttery feeling in my belly changing from sick, drunken butterflies to fizzy excitement.
When he lifts his head, he gives me a soft smile. “There. That’s better.”
I nod in agreement, at a loss for words. His free hand cups my jaw, tipping my chin up, and his lips meet mine again. But this time, his tongue slips into my mouth right away, and the hand at my waist goes to my back, pulling me closer for his hungry kiss.
Clinging to his shoulders, I do my best to keep up with his dizzying pace, content to let him lead. I still have questions that he hasn’t answered, but they seem unimportant now.
Far less important than the way his tongue curls around mine, the way his hand tilts my hips toward his, the way his chest feels pressed against me.
A loud knock sounds on the door, and he groans before slowly separating himself from me. “It’s room service,” he whispers after ending the kiss but before letting go of my body.
“I know,” I answer with a smile.
He groans again and presses one more hard kiss to my
