Disgrace

Chapter 13: Doctor's Orders

Katrina

I should've locked my damn window.

My breath hitched as Mason's towering frame loomed over me, his broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight streaming through my curtains. The scent of salt and spice clung to his heated skin, his dark curls still damp from the night air. I barely had time to react before he grabbed my ankle, yanking me toward the edge of the bed. A gasp left my lips as my thighs spread open involuntarily, the satin sheets bunching beneath me.

"Y-You climbed through my window?!" I hissed, my voice barely above a whisper, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Mason's gray-blue eyes, stormy and unreadable, locked onto me. Intense. Unrelenting. Possessive. He looked like a man on the edge of devouring something—someone—whole.

"Locked doors won't keep me away, Doc." His voice was a low, husky rumble, the smirk on his lips sharp enough to cut through my resolve.

My heart raced as I tried to shove him off. "Mason, you can't just—"

He grabbed my wrists, pinning them over my head in one swift movement, his massive palm engulfing both of mine. My breath caught. He was so much bigger than me—all muscle, all power.

"I can't just what, huh?" he murmured, his breath hot against my cheek. "Come take what's mine?"

I swallowed hard. "You're out of your damn mind."

"Yeah?" Mason nudged my thighs further apart with his knee, his rock-solid chest pressing against me. I felt the heat of his skin, the way his sweat-slick muscles flexed with every controlled breath.

He smelled like expensive cologne and pure male arrogance.

I should've pushed him off. Should've told him to get the hell out.

But my body? My traitorous body?

It arched toward him, instinctive and needy—like my body already knew it belonged to him.

Mason chuckled, the sound dark, knowing. "You're shaking."

I was.

Not out of fear.

Out of something far more dangerous.

His calloused fingers trailed down my arms, his touch slow, deliberate. "You've been ignoring me all fucking day. Then I see you on the phone with him. Making plans with him."

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around my wrists.

I blinked up at him, realization hitting me.

"Wait... You're... jealous."

Mason laughed once, low and cold. "Oh, you think this is jealousy?" He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Jealousy's cute. This? This is me reminding you who you belong to, Katrina."

His words sent a shockwave of heat through me.

I sucked in a sharp breath as his hand slid down to my throat, his thumb tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"This püssy?" His voice dropped—dark, possessive, dangerous. "It's not his. It's not fucking yours either, Katrina." He squeezed just enough to make me gasp. "It is mine."

A shiver ran down my spine.

My fingers curled against his chest, the heat of his skin branding my palms.

"Say it," he ordered.

I let out a soft, breathy laugh. "You're delusional."

Mason hummed. "Yeah? Let's see how delusional I really am."