I wanted to charge there and prevent her from seducing one of them as she had me.
But she was quiet, almost too quiet. She seemed shy. With a flute in her hand, she retreated to the back of the closed area, avoiding everyone, even the redhead she came with. Then it clicked. The redhead was the girl from the picture. Tracy something. She was supposed to be Charlotte’s best friend, according to Wikipedia. Then why was she so aloof? Hiding wasn’t like Charlotte. At least, not the Charlotte I met. No, that Charlotte was determined, decided, seductive, and demanding. She had won me over with her contagious smile, her free spirit, her hungry gazes, and made me crazy in bed. She was loud, happy, and carefree. The girl I was watching most definitely wasn’t Charlotte.
I shouldn’t, but I wanted to go up to her, whisk her away, take her to my apartment, and beg her to be the same girl I met during spring break. I really shouldn’t but I wanted to.
I shut down the reasonable part of my brain and headed to the stairs. I stepped into the wide corridor leading to the VIP area, and saw Charlotte walking away from her friends. She was in a hurry and I dashed after her.
Charlotte took a right at the end of the hallway. I reached the corner and found another hallway, but this one was smaller and darker, with two doors—the ladies’ and the gentlemen’s restrooms.
I leaned against the wall directly before the ladies’ room and waited.
Ten minutes passed and she hadn’t come out yet. I had seen a few girls coming in and out, and I was starting to worry about her.
Fifteen minutes and I thought I had paid enough attention to comers and goers to know she should be alone in there.
Holding my breath, I pushed the door opened and stuck my head in. “Charlotte?”
She stood in front of the mirror, her head down. “Mason!” She whirled toward me. “What are you doing here?”
Christ, she really was beautiful. She didn’t have too much makeup on and she looked perfect. Although, I did like her natural do too.
I stepped inside and let the door close behind me. “I should ask you that. You’ve been in here for over fifteen minutes.”
“What … you’ve been following me?”
“What? I came with my roommate. I saw you entering the restroom and waited outside, but you were taking too long.”
“Sorry. I was just …” She pressed her lips in a thin line.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She beckoned to the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I was worried.”
She crossed her arms and stared into my eyes. She looked mad, but damn that didn’t stop me from wanting to back her up to the wall and attack her right here.
“Why?”
I didn’t know the answer to that, but I knew I wanted some answers myself. “Where’s your boyfriend. I didn’t see him out there.”
“Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Then who was that guy—?”
Two giggling girls entered the restroom and they stopped dead when they saw me.
I raised my palms. “Sorry.”
“He was leaving,” Charlotte said, pushing me past the girls and out the door.
I could feel her hands on my arms and I relished the brief contact, until we were outside and she kept walking away from me.
I held her arm and pulled her back into the dark hallway. “Wait.”
“Why are you doing this?”
I didn’t let go of her arm. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just … I guess I miss you.”
A small smile appeared on her lips. “Do you miss all the girls you hook up with during spring breaks? Oh, there’s summer too, right? Busy town during summers, right?”
Annoyance was making its way into me. “For your information, I am not that kind of guy.” Wasn’t I? That was what I said I would do. “I had the same girlfriend for three years before you.”
Her smile faded. “Please, Mason …”
“What?” I slid my hands up her arms, pulling her closer. “Tell me about it.” But she didn’t. She averted her eyes. “Why are you acting so stiff and reserved?”
She jerked away from me. “That’s who I am. I call it refined and educated. Or even elegant.”
She was certainly refined, educated, and elegant, but that wasn’t it. “No, no. You’re not like that. Come on. I saw you.”
“Who you saw is someone I cannot be.”
So, that was it. She couldn’t be like that here.
“But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” I walked up to her, towering over her, pushing her against the wall. “That’s who you have to be.”
Her eyes grew wide and she looked side to side, as if trying to find a way out of my trap.
“What are you going to do? Tell the world what a slut I am?” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “What do you want? Will you ask for money to stay quiet?”
I gave one step in her direction, bumping my legs onto hers—only a few inches separated my body from hers now—and reached around her, brushing my fingertips along the bare skin of her back.
“I want you,” I whispered in her ear. Her breath hitched, and I took pleasure in feeling her back arching with my touch, her body shivering with my breath.
Her hands grasped my arms. “Please,” she gasped.
I loved when she begged. “I want the real you. The one that spent six wonderful days with me.” I slid my tongue along her jaw and her nails dug into the skin of my arms. Damn, her scent was like drugs. I was addicted. “The one I know is in there. Let her out. For me.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. Then she pushed me back and, in tears, she dashed away.
Stunned, I watched as she stopped by the VIP area, said something to Tracy, and then ran downstairs.
I hurried after her, but when I got to the dance floor, I lost her.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte
Being the governor’s daughter was serious business. I had to attend several balls, meetings, and fundraisers, and visited nonprofit organizations. Before, it was a pastime. Now it was boring. The people were always smiling as if they had perfect lives, they dressed as if they were on runways, and they wasted fine food as if there was no hunger in the world. It was not only boring, but also disgusting.
“Are you going to keep frowning when we get there?” my mother asked from beside me on the Lincoln’s backseat.
I made sure my forehead wasn’t wrinkled and glanced her way. Peyton McClain looked regal in her indigo suit and pearls, her legs crossed and her back stiff.
I barely slept after leaving Mason behind at that club in Washington last night. I had gone with the friends my mother approved of, because I had promised I would, but it had all been an act. I showed up, played pretty, coy, and innocent, and then left. That was the plan, until Mason marched in the bathroom and took my breath away. How was I supposed to know I would meet him like that again?
I tried to sleep, but how could I when every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason in front of me, teasing his fingertips on my bare skin, his mouth on my neck? I shivered just remembering. Tired of fighting with sleep that didn’t come, I got up early and was literally thrown into work with my mother. It was a goddamn Sunday and I wanted rest and peace, but my mother’s political career couldn’t wait.
“No,” I whispered. “I’ll smile, as I always do.”
Peyton narrowed her eyes. “I don’t expect anything less of you.”
Of course not.
The Lincoln rolled to a stop before a white building, and the chauffer helped us out. The only bright side of this outing was that Donnie had commitments with his father and couldn’t be with us.
Soon after our arrival, I was surprised to find this event wasn’t as bad as I first thought. My mother and I strolled through the big conference room, meeting families who had lost someone they loved because of the war. Most were wives and kids who had lost their fathers—soldiers in the Army.