Forbidden Men Book 1: Price of a Kiss
Auteur
Linda Kage
Lezers
394K
Hoofdstukken
32
I don't care what my cousin says; I am not the queen of impossible relationships. I mean, just because my last boyfriend tried to kill me and left a bit of a scar on my neck, then forced me to move across the country and legally change my name to Reese Randall to escape him, does not mean-
Oh, who am I kidding? For a freshman in college, I have to have the worst dating track record ever.
It's no wonder love is the last thing on my mind when Mason Lowe enters my life. But the chemistry between us is like bam! Our connection defies logic. And he's just so freaking hot. Being around him makes me feel more alive than I've ever felt before. I even like bickering with him. He could be my soul mate...except for one teeny tiny glitch.
He's a gigolo.
Boy, do I know how to pick them.
PROLOGUE
Mason Lowe was fixing his motherâs push mower so he could cut the grass when Mrs. Garrison came to collect the rent.
âWoo hoo.â Her sharp, nasally call grated against his ears before she tapped on the privacy fence separating his backyard from hers. Metal hinges whined when the gate swung open. âAnyone home?â
âItâs just me.â He squinted into the midday glare as he glanced up. Wrench firmly gripped in his palm, he swiped the back of his forearm over his brow to wipe away dripping sweat.
âOh! Mason.â Pressing a hand to her exposed cleavage, his motherâs landlady stumbled to a halt in her ridiculously high heels and blinked long, fake lashes. âI didnât see you there.â
Hoping maybe if he looked busy enough that the forty-something woman would catch the hint and leave him alone, he remained crouched behind the upside-down mower, where heâd been sharpening the blade. âNeed something?â
âUm...â She bit her lip and gathered her hair with one hand to hold it off her neck as she used her other to fan herself. The sparkles in her red fingernail polish flashed in the sunlight.
She boldly checked him over, her greedy gaze consuming him. Skeeved by the inspection, he squirmed on the inside, itching to reach for the T-shirt heâd stripped off half an hour ago and flung to the side.
Glancing around the yard as if she were playing lookout for a felon robbing a bank, she asked, âWhereâs your mother?â
Returning his attention to his task, Mason used the wrench to twist the blade into place. âSheâs taking my sister to another doctorâs appointment,â he lied, his muscles straining as he gritted his teeth.
Mom and Sarah were actually at the grocery store, but reminding Mrs. Garrison about his sisterâs circumstances might score their family a little sympathy and buy them some extra time to scrounge up more cash, because he was certain Mom was behind on rent again.
âHmm. And how is the poor, sweet child?â Mrs. Garrison murmured distractedly, her attention on his hands as he worked.
Suspecting she cared nothing about Sarahâs welfare, he tossed his dark bangs out of his eyes and sent her a look. âStill has cerebral palsy.â He twisted a little rougher than he had before, securing the bolt tight.
âMy, my.â The landlady drifted closer. âYou sure have grown up right. Just look at all those muscles you have now.â Her shadow passed in front of him just before she set a hand on his shoulder, her long nails digging into his slick skin.
Startled by the contact, he lurched back and snapped his gaze up.
She gave a husky, amused chuckle. âNo need to be so jumpy, dear.â Her nails loosened their grip, only to skim an inch down his chest in a blatant caress of appreciation. âI donât bite.â Belying her words, she flashed a smile full of orthodontically perfected, white teeth. They looked as if they wanted to take a great big chunk out of his raw flesh.
Mason gulped. The gleam in her gaze had him turning cold all over, even in the hundred-degree heat. Like a panther spotting its prey, she wanted to pounce. On him.
He didnât have to be experienced at sexâand he wasnâtâto know what she wanted. Sheâd probably seen him from her second-story window, wearing nothing but his ragged shorts, and had dolled herself up with the sole intention of coming over to play.
He felt a little ill. Not because he actually wanted to hang on to his virginity. He didnât. In fact, if the opportunity had ever arisen before, he wouldâve lost it years ago.
It wasnât even because she was ugly. The woman might have a fake tan, fake breasts, and a little reconstructive surgery done to her faceâcertainly to her lips and eyebrowsâbut she wasnât a dog by any stretch of the imagination. She had big boobs, a tight ass, and shapely long legs, which, okay, yeah, they looked nice in those super-tight, super-short jean shorts.
And it wasnât because she was married, because she wasnât that either. He wasnât sure why everyone called her Mrs. Garrison. He was pretty sure thereâd never been a Mr. Garrison in the picture.
No, it all had to do with her age. Cougars just didnât do it for him, and her digits had to multiply his own by two. At least.
Mrs. Robinsonâer, Garrisonâmustâve been thinking about the numbers thing too because she arched an interested brow and asked, âHow old are you now, Mason?â
âEighteen.â He glanced away, cursing himself even as he admitted the truth. Damn, why hadnât he lied about that too? Seventeen suddenly seemed so muchâŠsafer.
But he had a sneaking suspicion she already knew exactly how old he was.
A predatory grin spread across her painted lips with a mocking gloat as if she assumed sheâd already caught him in her web. âSoâŠyouâre legal, then.â
Mason made a choking sound. But holy shit. He hadnât actually thought sheâd have the nerve to come right out and say that aloud.
She chuckled huskily. âI see Iâve shocked you.â
He shook his head, more in denial of the moment than actually saying no. She smiled with approval as if proud of him for his answer. âYour mother owes me over three thousand dollars. Did you know that, Mason?â
Wait, had she said three thousand dollars?
He stared hard at the old, run-down lawn mower and tried not to pass out. âNo. I didnât.â
Christ, that was a lot of money.
As if feeling his pain and offering him a measure of comfort, Mrs. Garrison crouched beside him and set her hand on his bare knee. He glanced at her, thinking maybe heâd see some compassion in her gaze. Maybe sheâd give them a couple of months to hunt up three grand.
Except, with that calculating gleam glistening within her callous, hazel depths, she didnât look very sympathetic. Her palm shifted on his leg, sliding up to mid-thigh, and he nearly leapt out of his shorts.
Damn, did she plan on giving him a hand job right here in the middle of his motherâs backyard, or what? While a part of his brain screamed gross, the little guy in his pants perked to attention, deciding her slim fingers felt rather nice moving up his leg and would probably feel even nicer resting on his enflamed head.
An electric pulse jumped through his system. He wanted to shove her away and glare at her for doing this to him, for making his body react against his will. But he couldnât shove her anywhere, couldnât tell her off, couldnât even give her a scathing glare. His mother owed her over three thousand dollars.
How many freaking months of rent was that?
Panic set deep into his veins. He needed to divert this before it went straight to where he feared it was already going.
âIâm sure Mom has the money,â he tried. âSh-she and Sarah should be home in an hour or two. She can pay you then.â
âReally?â Mrs. Garrison brightened. âSo we have an hour or two to do whatever we want?â
Mason didnât know what to say. He didnât know what to do. He wanted to run, but he had a bad feeling those fingernails of hers would bite into his leg and rip him to shreds if he tried.
He felt trapped.
She leaned in closer, the heat from her palm scorching his thigh. A coconut smell wafted over him. âIâm not stupid, you know. Your mother doesnât have that kind of cash. And she wonât pay me anything whenever she gets home from her doctorâs appointment. But Iâd be willing to cut what she owes me in, letâs say, half if youâd perchance be willing to make a side arrangement with me.â
Holy mother of God.
Mrs. Garrison had just asked him to have sex with her.
For fifteen hundred dollars.
He didnât even know her first name.
âYou know what Iâm asking, donât you, Mason?â
Leaning away, he closed his eyes and nodded.
âGood.â She sounded pleased. And disgustingly smug. âSo your answer would beâŠ?â
Unable to actually voice his refusal, he gave a vigorous shake of his head.
When she didnât respond, a tense silence met his ears. His curiosity got the best of him, and he opened his lashes.
She studied him with a shrewd expression, as if she knew a small, microscopic part of him wanted to say yes. But seriously, what eighteen-year-old guy wanted to say no to sex, even if it meant losing it to an old chick?
âIs that your final answer?â she asked, sounding amused.
He messed up by opening his mouth. âYes! Iâm absolutely positive. I wonât have sex with you. I wouldnâtâŠâ He glanced away. âI wouldnât even know what to do.â
Why he went and confessed that, he had no idea. But he hoped to God it scared her off, because any woman who wanted a fumbling virgin to bang her had to be out of her ever-loving mind.
Instead of jerking her hand off him in revulsion, however, her fingers tightened on his leg. Hazel eyes widened, and she licked her lips.
âOh, sweetie,â she breathed. âYou just made me wet.â
Mason blinked. Huh?
âDonât worry if itâs your first time, darling. I could teach you everything you need to know. And more. It would be an honor to train a young buck like you to learn myâŠpreferences.â Her fingers began to slide farther up his leg.
He grabbed her wrist before she reached the hem of his shorts because he knew she wouldnât stop there. She wouldnât stop until she had a handful. His dick throbbed, knowing full well this was as close as any female had ever come to touching him. Stupid dick.
Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on her to warn her away. But hell, she began to breathe harder as if his manhandling turned her on even more.
With her gaze glazing to a fevered pitch, she drew in a heavy pant. âDamn, you have strong hands. Youâre hard for me right now, arenât you?â
Disgusted with her as much as he was with his own betraying body, he threw her hand off and lurched to his feet, turning slightly away so she couldnât see anything bulging from his shorts.
âYou need to leave,â he bit out. It had to be the most surreal, embarrassing, awkward moment of his life, standing petrified in his motherâs backyard in front of a broken lawn mower, sporting a woody and discussing sex for sale with the landlady. âI told you no.â
âFine.â She huffed out an indignant sniff as she pushed to her feet. The heat from her glare burned into the back of his neck. âTell your mother to pay up by the end of the week then, or sheâll be receiving an eviction notice.â
Mason spun around to gape at her.
She wouldnât.
Oh, holy hell, she would.
She pretended to admire her fingernails, preening in front of him as if proud of herself for besting him. Then, with a jaunty wave, she chirped, âToodles,â and twirled away on her heels, humming a bubbly tune under her breath. Her hips swung in a saucy manner as she strolled toward the gate.
Mason gaped after her, sick to his stomach and scared out of his mind. Sheâd never threatened eviction before. Then again, sheâd never solicited him for sex before, either.
His mother already worked two full-time jobs, and what money sheâd been saving back was to buy a motorized wheelchair for Sarah.
Mason clenched his teeth, feeling like the worst son ever, the worst older brother ever. Heâd been part-timing it at the car wash after school, but that hadnât even made a dent in helping Mom pay the bills. If he could assist his family in any way, he should be jumping at the chance to do anything and everything possible.
Even the landlady.
Closing his eyes against a wave of dizziness for what he was about to do, Mason rasped out the word, âWait,â half hoping she didnât hear him.
But her hand froze on the gate latch. Slowly, she rotated on her heels. âYes?â
He hated the way her eyes flickered with triumph. He hated her, period.
He worked his mouth a few times before he actually spoke. âLet meâŠlet me just wash up first.â
She laughed and shook her head. âOh, honey, donât you dare. Before this afternoon is over, I plan to lick every inch of sweat off that taut, glistening young body.â
He nearly lost his lunch.
She mustâve sensed he was a split second from backing out of the whole deal, because she crooked her index finger, beckoning him forward. âFollow me, handsome.â
When she turned away and opened the gate, he followed.
Three hours later, he returned home a completely different person. And Mrs. Garrison had pardoned him all of his motherâs back rent on the condition that he would return whenever she summoned him again.
