Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy #2) Read online

  “I know, I know,” he said, realizing how ridiculous it all sounded. But he couldn’t stop those doubts from continually rearing their ugly head, and he let them out before he lost the nerve.

  “I’ve never dated anyone before. Ever,” he said as he peeled at the label on his beer so he didn’t have to look directly at Levi while confessing his greatest fears. “And I’m so afraid I’ll fuck up everything worse with Katrina than it already is. What if I screw up and then we don’t even have the friendship to fall back on and I lose her forever?” God, that would destroy him. “What if she realizes that I’m just not that great of a guy and she could do so much better? That I’m a total loser who doesn’t have the ability to offer her everything she needs from that kind of relationship?”

  “If you were a loser, she wouldn’t have stuck with you for the past twelve years,” Levi said in a wry tone.

  “As a friend,” Mason corrected his brother. “Not as someone who wants something . . . more.”

  Understanding glimmered in Levi’s gaze. “Look, you don’t know how things will play out unless you try to build something more with Katrina.”

  Mason swallowed hard before admitting the truth. “I’m afraid.”

  “You can’t let the past keep defining your future actions,” Levi stated bluntly. “At some point, you need to change your pattern of behavior in order for anything else around you to change.”

  Mason narrowed his gaze at his brother. “And what actions are those?”

  “You being a manwhore,” Levi said, obviously trying to inject some humor into the conversation. In the next few seconds, his expression turned much more serious. “You think I don’t understand why you don’t let any one woman close enough for you to fall in love?”

  There Levi went again, being all observant and perceptive, though Mason was curious to know what conclusions his brother had drawn. “Why don’t you enlighten me with your wisdom?” he drawled.

  Levi ignored his smartass tone. “We grew up with a mother who, for all intents and purposes, abandoned the kids she’d never wanted anyway, and all three of us dealt with that situation in very different ways. Clay became the parent. The responsible one who made sure we stayed together. Even though it meant he had to work his ass off in order to give us a decent life without the constant abuse of Wyatt,” he said of their mother’s asshole boyfriend who’d taken great enjoyment in terrorizing them, until one day Clay had fought back.

  Thank God that part of their past was done, gone, and finished. And even though Wyatt had recently come back into their lives to threaten Clay once more, it hadn’t ended well for Wyatt, who was now in jail for a murder he’d committed over a year ago. But at least that confrontation had allowed Clay to finally open himself up to the possibility of a future with Samantha. What would it take for Mason to believe in himself that way?

  Levi continued on. “I was so young, but even I developed my own coping mechanisms. I would always . . .” He frowned and let the words go unsaid, as if he didn’t want to shine that particular mirror on himself and reflect on his own painful memories. And Mason wasn’t about to push him for more.

  “You were a goddamn hellion,” Levi said instead, turning things back to Mason. “After everything we went through, with our mother going to jail and Wyatt giving up on us thanks to Clay, I remember you doing everything you could to push Clay to the breaking point. It was like you were continually testing him, and he never gave up on you. Ever.”

  “I know,” Mason said, and he was grateful, because he hadn’t made it easy on his older brother at all.

  “So, this thing you do with women . . . You don’t form attachments because you’re hung up on what happened in the past,” Levi said. “You walk away without even trying to see if something other than sex might develop, and you deliberately choose women who aren’t going to want anything more than something physical so there’s no threat of you getting emotionally involved. But Katrina . . . she’s different from all those casual encounters. She always has been.”

  Mason couldn’t argue with Levi’s theory because it was the truth.

  “That’s why you’ve always kept Katrina in the best friend zone,” Levi went on while Mason digested everything he had to say. Things he knew but rarely verbalized or liked to think about. “Because that way, you can keep Katrina close and not worry about doing something stupid to make her leave you. But that’s what best friends do. They stick around during the tough times, they support you and always have your back. And they forgive you when you’re an asshole.”

  That last part made Mason chuckle. “And we all know that’s happened a time or two.”

  “Or a dozen,” Levi added with a smirk. “My best advice? Don’t be that asshole and repeat your hit-it-and-quit-it pattern with Katrina and give her a reason to put any more distance between the two of you. This is your chance to get things right with her, and the fact that you came back from Vegas and haven’t reverted to your manwhore ways tells me that maybe she’s the one. Hell, maybe she’s always been the one and you’re just now opening yourself up to the possibility.”

  As scary as that sounded, Mason nodded in agreement. That’s exactly what it felt like—like he was finally allowing himself to be emotionally vulnerable for the first time in his life, but he had no idea where Katrina stood. For all he knew, she’d already moved on to Blake, and her time with Mason in Vegas was nothing more than a distant memory.

  He swore beneath his breath, refusing to even consider that possibility. Nor was he going to let some other guy get between him and Katrina. Not without a fight.

  Mason glanced at Levi, curious about a few things his brother had left unsaid. “So, since you’ve psychoanalyzed me, how come you’ve never had a serious relationship before?”

  “Who says I haven’t?” Levi shot back.

  His brother’s quick reply caught Mason by surprise. “Well, considering I’ve never seen you date a woman for any length of time, either, or bring one around for Clay and me to meet, I just thought you were being discriminate. See, I know what that big word means,” Mason joked. “Or maybe you’re saving yourself for marriage.”

  Levi laughed out loud. “Not even close. I’m just more discreet than you.”

  Mason watched his brother finish the rest of his orange juice spritzer and push the glass across the bar. Levi had gone through all of high school without a girlfriend—that Mason knew of—and right after graduating at the age of seventeen, he’d joined the Army with Clay’s consent and served in the military for four years. He’d been back for over two years, and was now a cop with Chicago P.D., and there was no woman in his life to speak of.

  “Were you seeing someone in the military?” Mason asked, wondering if something had happened during that time.

  “Tonight was all about you, not me,” Levi said, smoothly skirting the issue as he stood up and clapped Mason on the back. “My intervention here is done, and now I can get back to House of Cards with a clear conscience, knowing I saved my brother from doing something stupid that he might regret later. Oh, and no charge for the therapy session.”

  “Here’s your payment,” Mason said, and gave Levi the middle finger.

  Levi just shook his head and chuckled as he headed out of the bar, leaving Mason alone once again. But at least this time he wasn’t wallowing. No, now he was strategizing and thinking about a game plan to win over the one woman—the only woman—he wanted in his life.

  * * *

  When Mason arrived at the shop the following morning at ten a.m., he was feeling upbeat and optimistic about Katrina and the day ahead, despite the fact that she’d gone to dinner with another man the night before. He carried a to-go drink tray with two large coffees he’d stopped and picked up on the way to work—a straight black brew for him and Katrina’s preferred steamed caramel latte—along with her favorite apple-and-cream-cheese Danish.

  As he stepped into Inked, he was greeted by the sight of a dozen red roses on the front counter in a crysta
l vase and Katrina standing there in a cute black mini-dress and lace-up thigh-high boots he immediately fantasized about having wrapped around his waist while he fucked her against the counter. Yeah, his dick supported that idea one hundred percent.

  She had a big smile on her face . . . but it wasn’t for him. No, it was a result of the small card she was reading that had come with the flowers that Blake had no doubt sent.

  So much for surprising her with a coffee and pastry. His meager gifts were no match for the vibrant, gorgeous arrangement that had probably cost a small fortune. Clearly, Blake was staking his claim, and Mason exhaled a deep, calming breath so he didn’t overreact and say something stupid that would just cause Katrina to withdraw from him even more. His goal was the opposite, to reestablish the friendship that meant so much to both of them, and build from there.

  But Jesus, he hadn’t expected to have to compete with wealth and sophistication and a guy who knew how to woo and romance a woman. Those were skills Mason had never had a need for, but he realized that he definitely needed to step up his game if he was going to compete with someone of Blake Cavanaugh’s caliber.

  He came up beside Katrina, and she quickly stuffed the card she was reading back into the envelope before he could see what it said. She buried it into her purse that was still on the counter, then turned around to face him with a flush on her cheeks and her expression flustered.

  From reading Blake’s note, he wondered? Shit. He hated that another man could have that effect on her. Jealousy tightened across his chest, and he refused to allow his mind to conjure up images of Blake and Katrina together, doing those things that only Mason wanted the privilege of doing with and to her.

  “Hey,” she said with a forced smile, her demeanor reserved, as if she wasn’t sure what to expect from him this morning.

  “Hey, yourself,” he replied with a genuine smile while doing his best not to act like a possessive dick, which would only put her guard up even more. “I got you a caramel latte and a Danish,” he said, handing her both.

  “Thank you,” she said, this time sounding truly pleased by the thoughtful gesture.

  He tossed the to-go holder in the trash and took a sip of his strong coffee. “How was your date with Blake last night?” See, he could totally be civilized about the situation.

  “It was . . . good,” she said, much too vaguely, and wouldn’t quite meet his gaze.

  What the hell did good mean? Mason didn’t push. Wouldn’t push. But fuck, he wanted to. Badly. So, instead, he said, “I’m glad you had a good time,” then headed over to his station to set up for his first appointment of the day.

  When he casually glanced back to the front counter, he caught Katrina watching him with a frown as she took a bite of her pastry. Obviously, she hadn’t expected him to act so rationally, and even Mason had to admit he was impressed with himself because it had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to carry her off to his private office and put his stamp of ownership all over her the best way he knew how.

  Fuck expensive roses. Mason was all about making sure he staked his claim in a more memorable way. Whether Katrina knew it or not, she was his. And he was going to do everything in his power to prove it.

  Chapter Ten

  Katrina walked into her apartment and set her purse and keys on the small table by the door, then headed into her bedroom to change out of the dress and boots she’d worn to work. It had been a long, busy day, and it hadn’t helped matters that every time she’d seen the vase of roses sitting on the front counter she’d thought about Blake’s job offer. No doubt, that had been his intent.

  And then there was Mason and his strange behavior. He’d arrived at the shop in a good mood, with her favorite breakfast items in hand, and it had felt like a peace offering between them, which she’d welcomed. And even though he’d seen the flowers and asked very nicely about her date with Blake, she’d wished that he’d exhibited even a small amount of jealousy. Something, anything, to give her some kind of indication that he might have more than just best friend feelings for her.

  “And if he did, then what?” she muttered to herself as she sat on the bed, unlaced her boots, and pulled them off. Mason didn’t know the meaning of monogamous, and she was a one-man kind of woman. End of story.

  After slipping out of her dress and bra, she put on a soft, cotton camisole and a pair of comfortable sleep shorts, then padded into the kitchen to make something for dinner. She opened the refrigerator and perused the meager contents. Geez, she should have stopped at the grocery store on the way home. Or at least picked up some kind of takeout.

  “Okay, scrambled eggs it is,” she said to herself since her choices were limited. Just as she started to reach into the fridge to grab the carton, the doorbell rang.

  She headed back to the entryway and looked through the peephole and saw Mason standing on the other side—reminiscent of that last night in Vegas when he’d come to her room. The memory of what had happened once she’d let him inside made her traitorous heart flutter. She had no idea what he was doing there, or what he wanted, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was there. He had to have seen her car parked in her spot.

  When she opened the door, she was greeted with the delicious aroma from the pizza box he was holding in one hand, which was from their favorite pizzeria. In his other hand, he was carrying a paper sack from the grocery store.

  The savory scent of the pie made her stomach growl, and he grinned, even as he blatantly took in her camisole and shorts with a heated gaze that made her breasts tingle. “Sausage, mushroom, and olives,” he said, indicating he’d brought a pizza with her favorite toppings. “I hope you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

  This wasn’t the first time he’d showed up at her place unannounced and with food, and it just felt so . . . normal. Like old times, and she couldn’t resist—even as she wondered why he was there after a week and a half of tension between them.

  Stepping back, she let him into her apartment, then led the way to the kitchen. “Actually, you saved me from a boring meal of scrambled eggs. That pizza smells amazing.”

  He placed the cardboard box on the counter, along with the grocery bag, then began taking things out of the sack. “Here’s some root beer to wash it all down with, and some Ben and Jerry’s Salted Caramel Core ice cream to go with the movie I rented from Redbox for us to watch,” he said as he put the pint into the freezer.

  She leaned back against the counter, suddenly feeling . . . overwhelmed. And so confused. This scenario was like a flashback to some of the best times she’d spent with Mason—eating pizza, then gorging on her favorite ice cream while watching a scary flick. Which had always included cuddling with him on the couch because she had a love/hate relationship with thrillers and inevitably clung to Mason during the gory parts, or buried her face against his neck.

  But all that had been before, and now she didn’t know what to make of all this. And his changed behavior. Especially after how strained things had been between them for the past week and a half.

  “Mason, what are you doing here?” she blurted out.

  He set the plates that he’d just taken down from the cupboard on the counter, then walked toward her, the territorial gleam in his blue eyes making her pulse race. Everything seemed to change in that moment—his cheerful demeanor shifting to something far more arousing.

  When he reached her, he braced his hands on either side of where she was standing and leaned in close enough for her breasts to brush across his chest—making her shiver and her nipples tighten almost painfully.

  “I’m staking my claim, Kitty-Kat,” he said, his words as possessive as the rumbling sound of his voice. “That’s what I’m doing here.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, stunned by his words. She’d been expecting him to say something along the lines of “I’m here to get our friendship back on track,” not that he planned to pursue her or stake his claim. While her body was willing to let him mark her however he please
d, her heart and mind were far more practical about his declaration.

  “I don’t want to be your convenient fuck buddy,” she said, hating the hint of doubt that crept into her voice, but she couldn’t help how she felt. “Or be another notch on your belt.”

  “That’s not what I want, either. I swear it. I want you. Only you,” he said as he placed his hands on her waist and pressed his hips to hers. He flashed her a charming grin that belied the sudden hint of nerves in his gaze. “And to prove it, I’m getting a brand new belt with your name on it, and while I definitely want to fuck you again, it won’t be as your buddy.”

  She swallowed hard as she tried to digest everything, especially the fact that he was implying that he wanted them to be an exclusive couple, when Mason didn’t do relationships. Ever.

  She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand . . . ”

  “I’m having a hard time understanding all this, too,” he admitted honestly. “But there is one thing I know with absolute certainty, and that is that I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you. Not after everything that happened in Vegas. You went out with Blake last night, and I was so fucking miserable and jealous it nearly gave me an ulcer. And then those goddamn flowers that I had to look at all day today . . . ” His words trailed off and he clenched his jaw in irritation. “I assume Blake sent them?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” But what Mason didn’t know was that the note Blake had attached hadn’t been romantic at all, but rather a nice message about how he hoped she’d become a part of the Cavanaugh and Zimmerman team.

  Mason frowned at her, and his hands tightened on her waist. “If Blake had been around, I can guarantee that we would have come to blows over you, and I would have won.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “I had no idea you were jealous.”

  His expression turned adorably sheepish. “Because I was trying not to be an asshole about the situation, and it was damn hard.” He stared into her eyes, his gaze searching hers. “Just tell me one thing. Do I need to be worried or jealous about Blake?”