Hypnotized by Love

by Sariah Wilson

“You are wasting your side-eye. I am not ashamed. I hope he’s wearing socks, because they’re about to get knocked off,” she said and then made her way over to Mason.

“Yeah, the prince of darkness,”

“What are you even doing here?” I hissed the words at him. So much for my great plan to remain aloof. “Currently? Feeling unwelcome.”

“No. There’s a beautiful girl next to me. Someone I’ve loved my whole life.”

“Sinclair,” he murmured, and the sound of him saying his pet name for me made molten heat swirl in my abdomen. When he’d called me Sinclair in high school, it had always made me feel like he saw me as one of the guys—just his buddy, nothing more. But him saying it now made me feel the exact opposite, like it was an endearment he used only for me, and there were all kinds of emotions and sensations that thought caused inside me.

“Uh, the light turned green,” he said, gesturing toward the windshield. “I don’t care if that light turns into Kermit the Frog and starts singing that it’s not easy being green. Are you . . . friends with my sister?”

Because nachos got me. They were basically just tacos that didn’t have their life together.

“I’m pretty sure I ate the restaurant’s entire nightly supply of nachos,” I said conspiratorially. “I’m a strong woman who is capable in so many areas, but restraining myself around chips and melted cheese is not one of them.”

“That would never happen to me. If I missed one meal, I would turn into the Tasmanian devil from Looney Tunes, and two meals? That would be total organ failure.”

“You’ve never done a cleanse?” “I’m more into clogs,” I said. “No intermittent fasting?” “Nope, just intermittent feasting for me. That’s where you eat a huge breakfast, way too much lunch, overindulge at dinner, and then go to bed early.”

It was a “bouquet,” but instead of using flowers, he had taped bags of M&M’s to long sticks. Mason had created something that he knew I would love. My stomach started doing little flips of excitement. “Okay, this is super cute, but I am still mad at you.”

mom had a flat tire, and I had to take a rideshare to get to her because she didn’t know how to fix it. Then I had to call a tow truck because she didn’t have a spare.” “Ah, yes, the old my-dog-ate-my-mom’s-tire excuse.”

“Yep. Some women want to be wined and dined; I want to be tequila-ed and taco-ed.”

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m reading.” “What are you reading?” “These newfangled inventions called books. It’s where curves and lines are connected into something we call words, and those turn into sentences, and you read them quietly to yourself. So shh.”

“I meant, what’s it called?” “It’s called go somewhere else and let me read my book in peace because I don’t like it when people infringe on my reading time.”

Why won’t you just be quiet?”

“Make me,” he challenged in that low, intoxicating voice of his.

There was just hunger and want and need and an ever-growing flame that threatened to consume us both. I wouldn’t have cared if it burned down the whole house around us, just so long as he kept kissing me. Because his kisses smoldered and blazed, and if any part of me had wanted to stop, he quickly incinerated those thoughts.

“Mason,”

“I want to spend the rest of my life listening to you panting my name like that,” he growled in a possessive way that made little pinpricks of sweat break out on my temples. “Do you know how many years I’ve waited to kiss you?”

“You’re the one I want, Sinclair.”

“And about that kiss? I need you to keep it quiet.” “My lips are yours, Sinclair. I’m happy to keep them sealed or put them any other place you might like.” Like he could read my mind.

“No one has to know but me, Sinclair. I can be your dirty little secret.”

“Savannah Rose Sinclair, I could be robbed of every single one of my senses and I would still know you.”

“I know. I know because that’s how I’ve felt without you in my life. Like half of me has been missing for years, and I didn’t feel whole again until I saw you in that Starbucks.”

“When I told you that I wouldn’t let you hypnotize me again, that was a lie. I’m mesmerized by you. You’ve been hypnotizing me since the day I came back. You have this hold over me that I can’t shake, and I don’t want to. And it’s no surprise that you were able to hypnotize me in that session, because just looking at you makes me forget my own name.”

I’m not going anywhere. I want to be wherever you are.”

“Living in New York as a writer is your dream.” “You’re my dream, Sinclair.” “You’d give up New York for me?”

“I’d give up the world for you,” he said.

“One of the most important things I’ve learned over the years is about forgiveness. For ourselves and for others. For some reason, we see forgiving someone

as a weakness or a failing.”

doesn’t mean you have to forget or condone what happened. It doesn’t even mean you have to ever speak to or see that person again. But forgiving someone means you don’t let them control you any longer. You get to replace all the heavy, negative feelings that weigh you down and focus on your own well-being instead.

It wasn’t really a “falling” kind of experience—I had never stopped loving him, and it was more like reading a book I’d forgotten about. We just picked up where we’d left off, the page bookmarked and waiting for us to return to our story.

“Sinclair, you’re never too much for someone who can’t get enough of you.”

“I knew that you loved me from the way you kissed me, the way you touched me, the look in your eyes whenever you’d see me. I didn’t need the words, Sinclair. But I’m glad I have them.”