Ruined: Loving An Alpha Male: BWWM Romance (7 page)

“Those that are in the Navy mostly work on the ship they’re assigned to doing nuclear engineering, aviation, computers, and electronic warfare; shit like that. I spent all my time as a Navy SEAL. It’s the special ops unit for the Navy.”

Okay, now I’m officially in love. A real, live badass—not some imitation, wanna-be—is sitting before me. My eyes grew wide, like I was looking at a real life celebrity.

“Seriously? You’re a Navy SEAL? Wow, I mean I knew you guys existed from the news and movies. But I never thought I would actually meet one.”

Amused, he smiled at me.

“Well, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

I shook my head.

“You must think I’m a dork.”

“Not at all,” he said simply, his gaze never wavering from my face.

I blushed again and looked away.
Control yourself, girl.

I snapped out of my awe-ness and raised my glass to him.

“Well, if no one has told you, or even if they did, from me personally and as a U.S. citizen; thank you for your service.”

He bowed his head slightly and raised his glass to meet mine.

“Pleasure was all mine.”

We fell into an unforced silence. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was trying to pull myself together. I mean, I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I’m already wondering how this man’s hands would feel all over my body, how soft his lips were, and if there was any way I could find out without making myself look like a whore.

Mason cleared his throat slightly. I blinked at him, realizing I never moved my gaze from his.

“Let me ask you a question.”

“Ask away,” I said, simply hoping I could answer it without spontaneously combusting.

“How did you know I was from Texas?”

Okay, I can answer this.

“Well, I could tell from your accent.”

He shook his head.

“Okay, see that’s the thing, I’ve worked hard for years to get rid of my accent. You mean to tell me you can hear it?”

I shook my head.

“Well, no. Like this whole time, I haven’t heard your accent until you call me ‘darling’ and ‘ma’am.’ I’ve been around my fair share of Texans to recognize that accent anywhere.”

“Ah, okay. I was thinking I lost my touch.”

I laughed.

“No, your touch hasn’t been lost. What part of Texas are you from?”

“Dallas.”

“Yeah, wow. I have family down there too.”

He smiled, “Yeah, who lives there?”

“My father has been there for a very long time. And my very best friend is there awaiting my return.”

“Yeah? Are you originally from Texas?”

“No, I’m from Arkansas.”

He leaned back from me and smiled, “For real? What part?”

“Hot Springs.”

“No shit. I’ve been up there quite a few times. It’s beautiful up there.”

I nodded.

“Yes, it is. I haven’t been back there in a long time.”

“So what brought you to Philly? School?” he asked me.

I shook my head.

“No. Actually, I came here when I was thirteen to live with my grandfather.” He nodded with understanding, but I felt I needed to explain, so I said, “My mother and father weren’t model parents, or citizens, for that matter. My mom left my dad and me when I was about nine, and for a while it was just me and my dad. But then he met the-bitch-from-hell, and he became just as useless as my mom. So my pops came to rescue me.”

“Well, I can relate to useless parents. I’m closer to my grandparents than to my own parents, too,” he shared. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope, it was just me.”

“Ah, spoiled are you?”

He smiled mischievously at me.

I nodded.

“Oh, in the worst way. But not in the traditional sense.” I laughed. Then I asked, “What about you? Are you the only child?”

I wanted to absorb all I could about this man. He nodded and smiled.

“Nope, I have an older sister and a brother.”

I smiled back.

“Really? Are you close with your sister and brother?”

He chuckled slightly.

“Well, my older sister is a pain in my ass who worships her pansy-ass husband. So no, I don’t get along with my sister at all. My brother and I are thick as thieves, though.”

“Is your brother older or younger?”

“Uh… he’s older, but only by a few minutes.”

My eyes grew wide. “Twins.”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“So there are two of you? Are you identical?”

“Oh yeah. We are identical in almost every way.”

‘Holy crap, I can’t believe there are two specimens of perfection that exist. What are the odds of that?’

“So you can’t tell the two of you apart at all?” I asked him.

“I think you can, and I’m sure my brother would agree. But sadly there haven’t been a lot of people that could.”

“Okay, but clearly your parents could? Right? And your sister?” I asked him.

He shook his head.

“Nope, the only people that could tell us apart growing up were my grandparents and our best friend, AB.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“No, I don’t believe that. I mean, what about girlfriends? You mean to tell me no one else could tell you apart?”

He shrugged and started to laugh.

“You should have seen the many jokes and things we got away with growing up.”

I laughed and asked, “So is his name Jason so that you two had matching names? Jason and Mason?”

A rich-sounding laughter came through him, and I smiled back at him. I really, really love to hear him laugh.

“That is so cheesy,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “My parents aren’t that creative. His name is Marcus.”

“Okay, so if your brother was here right now, I wouldn’t be able to tell you apart?”

“I’m sure you could now because my hair is cut short. But other than that, you probably couldn’t tell. We have the same everything.”

“Same height, weight, and everything?” I asked him incredulously.

“Yup, same everything.”

“Humph.”

I looked in his eyes and wondered if I would be able to tell the difference. I knew the answer was yes. I knew for a fact his brother couldn’t make me feel the way I was feeling right now.

“What?” He looked at me quizzically.

I looked in his beautiful blue eyes and said, “I wonder if I could tell the difference.”

He grinned devilishly and leaned to the side. He retrieved his cell from his pocket and scrolled through it. When he got what he wanted, he handed me his phone.

On his phone was a picture of two men who looked like a mirror reflection of each other. Their hair was the same, same smile, same bright teeth, same body type, and the same twinkle in their eyes. They were two of the most attractive and sexiest men I have ever seen. They both were holding up a huge fish that I assumed they caught themselves. They each wore plaid shorts. One had on a red sleeveless t-shirt and the other a black sleeveless shirt. I enlarged the picture and looked in their eyes. I smiled and handed the phone back to him.

“Wow, you two do look the same in every way,” I conceded.

“Yeah, as I said before, it’s hard for people to tell us apart,” he added, and he placed his phone in his pocket.

“Yes, I can see how people can confuse the two of you,” I said over my shoulder as I walked back to the bar. “But I do know you were the one in the red shirt.” I smiled to myself when I heard silence behind me. As I poured myself another drink, I looked up and found him looking at his phone. “Am I right?”

“Lucky guess,” he said, without looking at me.

I laughed, and as I walked back to him, I watched him intently. It was hard for me to tell the difference until I zoomed to their eyes. There’s something in Mason’s eyes that draws me to him instead of his brother. It’s not color, because they both have those bright blue eyes—light as the blue skies on a clear cloud-free day. No, it was something behind them that I can’t quite explain. In person and right now, the way he looks at me makes me want to see pleasure drip from them. When I see the picture, the desire he shows now isn’t in them, but I can still feel the need to want to please him.

When I sat next to him, he showed me another picture. It was of them sitting at some banquet table. They had a woman sitting in between them, and each wore a black suit jacket, a white shirt, and a dark tie. I zoomed in on the picture as he leaned closer to me to watch what I was doing. The phone then clumsily fell from my grasp. I mumbled an apology to him as he reached down to retrieve his phone.

I watched him move closer to me, and I held my breath. In all my life, I have never had a man affect me the way this man is doing right now. When he sat up, we were very close to each other, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. Maybe it was the alcohol I consumed, but I felt a throbbing ache in between my legs as he studied me. My eyes then instantly went to his lips. Seeing up close how kissable they were was really doing something to me. A smile crept over his handsome face, and I noticed he was holding out his phone.

I said softly, “You are … on the
right
of the female.”

His smile disappeared, and he brought up the picture again. “Impossible,” he looked at me. “How can you tell?”

I gathered myself and took a few deep breaths. I brought my drink to my lips, knowing this needs to be the last drink of the night before Mason finds my tongue down his throat.

I shrugged at his question and tilted my head. “I can’t really describe it. It’s something in the eyes.”

Mason looked at the picture again and then back at me.

“I don’t see it. I mean I know which one is me, but it’s crazy that you can too. Very few people are able to do it, and they’ve been around the both of us for a very long time.”

I just shrugged again but didn’t reply. Mason turned and started to play another melody that I didn’t recognize, but it was very nice and pleasant.

I asked him, “When did you learn to play?”

“I’ve played piano since I was very young. In order for me to be able to learn martial arts, I had to learn and master the piano. It was a condition my mother placed on me.”

“Well, you fight really well, so you must be an excellent piano player,” I told him.

With agility, he ran down the keys on the piano, playing a melody that would only be heard at some classical orchestra concert. I watched in awe as he played the most beautiful, but sad, sounding melody. He looked over at me as he played, and I smiled.

He asked, “How long have you been singing?”

I sighed, “Since like forever. I sang all the time—in school and at church. After my mom left home though, I stopped. It didn’t mean anything to me anymore. When I got here though, I started back singing in the church choir with my grandma until she passed away.”

He looked solemnly at me.

“I’m so sorry Max. How long ago did she die?”

“About four years ago.”

“Is your grandfather still alive?”

“No, he died a year and some change after she did. We were really close.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, I can relate to that. I told you my grandparents were the only ones that could tell me and my brother apart. They practically brought me up. They were the only ones I would listen to growing up, and the only ones I listen to now. I love them dearly.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling. It’s been tough without them. But they made me strong, so I’m just trying to make sure I do them proud.”

I smiled weakly, thinking how much I missed my grandparents. My grandparents, who I called mom and pops, were there for me through the milestones in my life. They loved me in spite of myself and never judged me. And I have to say that once my pops took me from my father, I never looked back. It was only two years ago when I tried to connect with my father. I wanted to tell him his parents passed away, but he seemed to not care as much. As always, he was wrapped up in his own little world and could not care less about me and mine. I stayed in Dallas for at least a year and lived with my best friend, Kat. But the longer I stayed there, the more wrapped up I was getting into my father and his bad ways and life. So I made my way back to Philly and enrolled into nursing school.

I closed my eyes and got engrossed in what he was playing. When he finished, I looked over at him.

He said to me, “You have an amazing voice.”

I smiled.

“Thanks. You can play the hell out of this piano.” We both laughed, and I said, “Can you play me something else?”

He nodded and started to play another tune while I asked him questions about his childhood. We talked for what seemed like all night. I laughed so much, my cheeks and stomach hurt. He told story after story about all the jokes he and his brother played on people. He told me funny stories about his life and his experiences. I loved talking to this man. Just sitting here was easy. Being with him was just easy. I didn’t have to work on anything, which was so refreshing. The next thing we both knew, it was nearly 5 a.m.