"Are you okay?" Mason asked and I could tell he was genuinely concerned. I nodded.

"What did you mean he won't have to wait long?" He asked quietly.

"It didn't mean anything. I just wanted to scare him. He can take that any way he wants. He probably thinks I'm going to commit suicide or something." I shook my head.

"He wouldn't even go to your funeral if you committed suicide?" He asked, shocked.

"Ha! Him and my mother believe that if you commit suicide you go directly to hell. So, that would be even more reason for them not to come to my funeral." I rubbed my now bare arm, self-conscious of what Mason thought about it. It's not like I could take it back now.

"So, is he always like that?" Mason quickly glanced at me and then the road again.

"Yup." I kept looking out the window, sort of embarrassed by what he'd seen. Who knew if he still wanted to be friends with the crazy tattooed girl who knows nothing about real life with overly possessive Christian parents. I was a walking contradiction. I just couldn't look at him for fear of him seeing me differently.

"And you're the only child?" he asked.

"Yup."

"They kept you from everything until..."

"Until I was 18 and ran away, yes." I finished his sentence.

"The gloves make a lot more sense now." He pointed to my tattooed arm. I instinctivley drew it to my stomach.

"No, don't hide it! Just for the record, you've earned a lot of cool points in my book for that." He smiled.

"And that's a good thing?" I smirked.

"Well, yeah! Do you even know how hot you are right now? I'm gonna have to beat the guys off with a stick." He nervously laughed.

"Pssh, whatever!" I slapped his arm gently.

"For real. You don't even know how beautiful you are, do you?" The car stopped in the driveway and he looked at me piercing my soul with his intense gaze.

I cleared my throat and got out of the car. I've just been verbally abused by my father and now I'm thinking of kissing Mason? Too many emotions to deal with right now. I didn't know what else to do other than walk to the pool house. My body was thrumming with a strong feeling of desire I'd never felt before. Desire, anger, freedom... feelings I'd never experienced in the past 22 years.

"Why don't you come in for some tea? I'll fix you a cup." He smiled charmingly. His smile made my legs clench, feeling warm in places I had never felt warm before.

"Do you even know how to make tea?" I teased standing in the doorway of the main house. He took my hand gently and pulled me inside.

"For your information Miss Quinn, I am an excellent tea maker." He led me to the couch and motioned for me to sit while he walked a few steps into the kitchen and started brewing some tea.

Something was definitely different between him and I. I didn't feel like just his friend anymore with the way he looked at me, but then again I could be going totally delusional and clinging onto the first person closest to me after seeing my father. Yeah, I'm sure that's what it is.

"My mother taught me how to make tea for her. She was the tea queen." He softly laughed, a slight look of sadness in his blue eyes.

"She sounds wonderful." I said, trying not to pry but really wanting to know more about his family.

"She was. She was selfless and kind... she was always helping others. My dad, well, he taught me how to be brave and was a true gentleman." He smiled holding our tea cups in both hands and set them down on the glass table. He sat next to me leaving just enough room so we weren't touching. He was opening up to me, finally.

He sat back and reached his arm across the back of the couch re-positioning himself so he was facing me, giving me full attention. His arm was as thick as the back of the couch with his tattoos running all the way up and into his short sleeved shirt.

"So what do your tattoos mean?" He reached for my arm and held it in his hand. His fingers ran up and down my arm sending shock waves through my whole body. It took all the willpower I had not to let my body shudder. He looked up into my eyes still tracing his fingers slowly over my arm. My breathing became shallow and I looked away first. I wanted to know more about him especially since he started making me feel this way.

"How about for each tattoo I tell you about, you tell me something about you." I bartered.

"Okay." A smile crept across his perfect lips. He traced his finger around and pointed to the diamond.

"What does this one mean?" He kept my arm in his warm hands caressing it. I tried to gather my thoughts and not focus on how good it felt to be touched by him.

"Well, the word diamond is derived from Greek word meaning 'invincible'. They are made by a massive weight weighing down on carbon deposits and in ancient time it was believed they gave you the strength to overcome your fears." I babbled on like I was reciting a speech, nervously breathing. He grinned noticing my unease.

"That's beautiful. You're whole life could be summed up in that one tattoo, being forged under difficult circumstances but coming out a beautiful woman." He looked at it once more before looking back at me.

"Okay, me now. So... I've never brought a girl home, ever. I don't like the idea of sticking to one person for fear of them leaving me like everyone else in my life... well I used to think that anyway... my views on that have recently started to change" His eyes burned straight into me making my skin tingle and my thighs clench again.

"I know what you mean. Trust has to be earned." He nodded continuing to swirl his fingers softly over my arm.

"Okay, what about this one?" He pointed to the wolf leaning in closer to inspect.

"It's from an old Cherokee story a grandfather told his grandson. There's a battle between two wolves..." I point to my shoulder where there is a girl wearing a wolves head and then the wolf standing in the distance further down my arm.

"One is evil. It's anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies and ego. The other is good. It's joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy and truth." I look up at him and he's listening to every word with his sight solely on me.

"The grandson asked 'Which wolf wins?' and his grandfather replied 'The one you feed.'"

Mason let out a sigh as he moved even closer to me. His eyes had darkened since we came inside. He gave me a hungry look that made me want to slide my hands up his shirt.

"Which wolf are you right now?" He whispered putting his hand on my hip and drawing me in closer. I bit my lip, so curious to know what he tasted like. He ran his hand down my cheek and to my neck. He pulled my face even closer to his so our breaths mingled. He was breathing just as hard as I was.

"I... I don't..." I couldn't speak. His lips were centimetres from mine and I couldn't think straight. All I knew was that I wanted him, regardless of his past. He was more than what I had initially thought, so much more. And I still barely knew anything about him but I felt like there was an invisibly magnetic force drawing us together.

"Hey guys! How did you go at the fair?" Lexi'svoice shrilled from the doorway.