Page 92 of Untroubled Heart

The two-piece baby pink halter top and pleated skirt—that made Mason bite his fist.

The black dress with the long sleeves and cut-out over the cleavage—that made him readjust his shorts.

Then the final one, the white sleeveless tank with a deep green collar and a matching skirt with green stripes along the hemline. It’s even shorter than the yellow dress, but it has green bloomers stitched underneath. That was the one that had him out of his seat and pushing me back into the changeroom, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

It had him pressing me against the mirror, hoisting my legs around his waist, pulling the underwear aside as he pushed his shorts down and thrust straight into me without any fanfare.

With the first moan that fell from my lips, he slammed a hand against my mouth and drove into me hard and fast, his eyes locked on mine.

The way he looks at me every time he’s inside me is enough to get me off. It’s the dedication, the devotion, the crippling need, as if he can’t get enough and won’t ever get enough. His hands are always so tight, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip from his grasp if he doesn’t hold on. Whenever he gets closer to release, he always holds himself deeper and drops his forehead to mine.

Being with Mason is like facing the reckoning. Embracing every part of yourself until you transform into this being of truth and acceptance. Because if Mason can love me like this, I can love myself too. I can accept my mistakes and my flaws. I can embrace the will to keep learning and growing, because an untroubled heart is not careless, it’s acceptance. It’s clarity and joy in the journey.

Suffice it to say, I wore that outfit out of the changeroom while Mason paid for it and all the others I tried on. Determined to make tennis an ongoing part of our weekly routine, whether real or fantasy.

“Pretty sure you already enjoyed the outfit.” Beth glares at her brother with one flawless eyebrow raised. “They have signs for one person in the changeroom at a time for a reason, Mase.”

“Keep telling us you don’t know how to have fun, Princess.” Tristan smirks while I hide my burning face behind my racket—pointless, since it’s see-through.

“You’ve hooked up in a changeroom?” Beth narrows her gaze at Tristan.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Beth folds her arms over her chest. “Okay, so tell.”

“Fuck me, let’s have a water break, and when we return, we’re switching teams!” Mason says, pointing his racket at Beth and Tristan as he ushers me off the court, his free arm slung over my shoulders as he nuzzles into the side of my neck.

“Having fun?”

“It’s very entertaining.” I grin.

“Oh my god, they’re driving me up the wall. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s my sister and best friend, I’d tell them to fuck already.”

“They’re not my sister and best friend.” I shrug. “I’ll do it.”

Mason gives me a warning look. “Don’t.” I back away, hands held up in surrender. “Callie Mildred Moore.”

“My middle name’s not Mildred.” I laugh, still walking back as Mason squirts water into his mouth. It runs down his chin, but I feel like I’m seeing it in slow motion. Jeez, he’s hot.

“What is your middle name?” he says, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his long, damp hair.

“Faith. Callista Faith. Yours is Luke, right?”

He nods thoughtfully. “How’d you know that?”

“I saw it on the settlement documents your realtor emailed through.”

“Snooping, Trouble?” He smiles.

“Just doing my job.”

“Callie, come to the bathroom with me,” Beth says, interrupting our flirting as she loops her arm through mine and starts to drag me across the court.

“What’s going on with you and Tristan?” I ask, once we find the bathrooms, pushing into a stall each.

“Ahh, nothing?” Beth calls over the partition.

“You could spread the sexual tension like icing on a hate-sex cake.”