Chapter 2 Mason

Trent slapped his knees and pushed himself from the couch before making his way to my fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He twisted the cap off, took a slug, then eyed me over the bottle. “Okay, fine. I give. What’s so special about this one, besides the steel trap of a pussy, that is?”

I cocked my head. “That’s the thing. I can’t put my finger on it. I mean, the sex was…”

There were no words for the sex.

From the moment I’d first kissed her, I’d been completely absorbed, lit with the need for more—to touch her, smell her, and breathe her in. It was more than chemistry—it was sheer animal connection, and I knew, even from that first, innocent kiss, that she could feel it too. Our connection was unlike anything I’d ever felt.

“It couldn’t have been that good if she snuck out of here while you were still asleep. You’d think she’d want round two, right?” Trent shrugged. “Face it, maybe she’s just not that into you.”

“See, this is what you’re not getting. She was into me. She was perfect.” I shook my head.

Of course, I didn’t blame Trent for not understanding. Odds were that he’d never been with a woman who looked at him the way Bren had looked at me on our date—like every word I said mattered to her. Like I mattered to her. In a way, it reminded me of the way my mother spoke to and looked at my father—like nothing in the world was more important than that other person.

And that connection had been only the starting point. It stretched even further when I’d kissed her, like the push and pull between our bodies was one we’d done a million times before but was still exciting and new. She’d shivered when I touched her, and when I turned her around to unzip her dress…

“Exactly. She was perfect. That’s why she wasn’t interested in you.” Trent grinned and I chucked a pillow at his stupid face.

“But seriously, dude,” he pressed on. “What are you going to do, just wait for her to knock on your door? You’ve already looked everywhere. It’s time to give it a rest and try again. There are plenty of fish in the sea. And seriously, I’ve never seen you like this and you’re starting to freak me out.”

He rejoined me on the couch and I glanced at the TV for a second, thinking over his words.

It was true. When it came to women, I had…well…a history would probably be the most polite way to put it. But that wasn’t technically my fault either.

I was raised with one belief, taught to me by my parents and reinforced by their actions toward each other—when you found the right person, you knew. With that one right person, all the trials and tribulations of life became easier.

And me? I wasn’t going to stop until I’d found Mrs. Right.

So, I’d experimented. A lot.

“If you’d had sex like this with a woman like this, you would be acting the same way,” I said, fully confident in my words.

“At this point I’m starting to think her vagina was made of solid gold,” Trent said. “What did she do? Blow bubbles out the damn thing?”

I laughed. “It was good, man. Best sex of my life. Hot and intense, and that fucking mouth—”

“Right. Well, special as it sounds, it’s time to move on. Got it?” Trent took another sip of his water and I nodded, though it was purely in the interest of placating him.

In truth, I didn’t think there was a damn thing in the world that could make me stop looking for the mysterious Bren.

Even now, a week after the fact, my mind’s favorite place to wander was the memory of her perfect, cherry-tipped tits and her smooth, pale skin. Her silky blond hair between my fingers. Her responsive, writhing body.

And, of course, the taste of her pussy as I’d laved my tongue over her straining clit.

At this point, even her name was enough to get me hard as a rock. But it wasn’t enough—none of it was.

Because I was going to find Bren.

And when I did?

I was sure as shit going to make her mine.