TRICK OR TEASE - WICKED LITTLE TREATS: A HALLOWEEN COLLECTION - CHAPTER THREE

They’ve traded barbs and pranks for months, but tonight the stakes change. Mason doesn’t back down, doesn’t break, and Aria can’t stop herself from meeting him toe-to-toe. Every step closer is a dare, every kiss a collision, every touch another rule they can’t take back. What started as playful rivalry is burning into something neither of them can ignore. And this time, Mason isn’t letting her hide behind jokes—he’s going to make her admit what she really wants.

Trick or Tease

Chapter Three

Aria

The Game Turns Hot

The air shifts the second he steps forward. One slow, deliberate move, and I’m already backing up, like my body hasn’t caught up to my brain yet. Another step and I bump against the edge of the rug, my heel catching, but I don’t fall. He’s too close for that.

The room feels smaller than it did a minute ago, the glow from the jack-o’-lanterns outside throwing shadows against the walls. It’s stupid, really. Halloween decorations and low light shouldn’t make my heart pound like this. But Mason Beckett closing the distance? That’ll do it.

“You’re getting a little close, Beckett.” I keep my voice sharp, like I’m not the one who just took three steps back without realizing it.

His smirk is infuriating. “You’re the one who let me in.”

I hate how steady he sounds, how sure. Like he’s been waiting for me to corner myself. My pulse jumps in my throat, my skin hot and restless under his stare.

This isn’t a prank anymore. This is something else—something I’m not ready to name.

And I’m not sure if I want him to stop.

We’re toe-to-toe now, neither one of us giving an inch. His shoulders block out the room behind him, the dim light catching sharp angles of his face, leaving the rest in shadow. His eyes lock on mine, steady, unreadable—until they flick down for the briefest second to my mouth.

My breath hitches, and I cover it with attitude. “Problem?”

“Not yet,” he murmurs, voice low enough to skim over my skin like a touch.

The argument should’ve kept going. That’s our thing, me throwing jabs, him batting them back like it’s nothing. But instead of more words, he closes that last inch like it was inevitable all along.

The kiss slams into me, sudden and hard. More fight than anything sweet, like we’ve both been waiting to land the first real hit. His mouth is hot, demanding, his stubble scraping my skin in a way that burns and thrills at the same time. I gasp into his mouth, the sound betraying me when I wanted to sound sharp, untouchable.

My fingers fist in his shirt, yanking him closer, while his hands frame my jaw like he’s staking a claim. His thumb presses against my cheek, firm, steady, holding me there as if I’d ever try to pull away. He tastes like heat and something darker, like every insult and challenge we’ve ever thrown at each other caught fire and turned into this.

My head screams mistake, lines blurred I can’t unblur. But my body? My body’s already gone.

This is dangerous. Addictive. And I already know—I won’t want to stop.

My back hits the wall before I even register that he’s moved me, his hands braced on either side of my head. Not caging me exactly, but directing me, steering me, like I’ve been heading here all along and he’s just the one making sure I arrive.

The wall is cool against my spine, a sharp contrast to the heat pouring off him. The solidness of him crowding me in with every breath, and it’s enough to steal my own, leave me tight and restless. I should tell him to move. Push him back, crack a joke, anything that keeps this in the safe territory of pranks and insults.

But my palms betray me, sliding up his chest instead. The steady rise and fall beneath my hands makes me dizzy, especially when my fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie and I tug like I can bring him closer than he already is.

I shove at his chest, even though my hands don’t actually push him away, they clutch his hoodie tighter instead. “What’s the plan here, Beckett? Corner me until I admit you’re right?”

His mouth brushes mine in the next breath, teasing, stealing air before it can become a full kiss again.

“Maybe I just like watching you squirm,” I bite out, even though my pulse is tripping all over itself.

That’s when his smile turns wicked, and he lowers his head just enough to murmur against my lips, “You’re still talking too much.”

I can’t stop the laugh that slips out, shaky and breathless. “Shut me up then.”

His answer isn’t words. It’s the low, dark growl that vibrates straight into my chest before his mouth claims mine again, harder this time. Messier. Hungrier.

His hoodie is half-off before I even realize I’m the one shoving it off his body, desperate to feel more of him. The T-shirt underneath clings to his skin, thin fabric stretched across his shoulders. My hands ache to get under it, to feel skin instead of cotton.

He doesn’t let me linger. His hands are on me now, firm at my waist, sliding higher until my shirt bunches at my ribs. The rough brush of his knuckles across bare skin makes me jolt, arch into him.

It’s frantic, reckless—him pressing me harder into the wall, me clutching at him like I can fight and surrender at the same time. Every kiss tastes like we’re still trying to win, to one-up each other, only now the scoreboard is our bodies.

And the line between our war and whatever this is? It’s gone, burned to ash in the heat of his mouth.

His mouth drags lower, lips grazing the edge of my jaw, my throat, leaving sparks in their wake. My body tips forward instinctively, like I can chase the heat of him before it disappears. I’m ready for more, aching for it, when suddenly he stills.

Not much, but enough.

The absence slams into me harder than I expect. My lungs squeeze tight, every nerve screaming for him to keep going.

“Mason—” The name slips out rough, shaky, before I can stop it.

His grip doesn’t loosen. One hand is planted firm against the wall beside my head, the other steady at my waist, holding me in place like he knows I’ll try to twist free, or maybe like he knows I won’t. His chest brushes mine with each uneven breath, but he doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t give me what I’m begging for without words.

“What—” My voice sharpens, desperate to cover the quiver underneath. “Giving up already?”

That smirk I hate—cocky and unfairly gorgeous—pulls at his mouth. “Not even close.”

I glare up at him, nails biting into his T-shirt where my hands still clutch it. “Then why stop?”

His thumb strokes slowly across my jaw, deliberate, sending a shiver straight through me. His eyes lock on mine, pinning me there with the same intensity he’s always carried, only this time, it’s not about pranks or winning. It’s about me.

The faint candlelight flickered across his face, making him look more dangerous than he should.

“Because I want to hear you say it,” he says, low and rough, every word dragging heat down my spine.

I shake my head, stubborn, though my pulse is wrecking me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Say it, Foster.” His voice hardens, deep and commanding, as if the air itself bends to listen. His hand at my waist tightens, not painful, but sure. “Tell me this is what you’ve been after.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy, intimate. My pride claws for a way out, another smart remark, a laugh, anything to deflect. But the truth is burning hotter than my defenses, my body betraying me with every ragged breath, every tremor of need I can’t disguise.

“Mason…” The word falls out, half plea, half surrender. My throat tightens as I force the rest out, barely more than a whisper. “I want it. I’ve wanted it longer than I should.”

His smile unfurls slow, dangerous, like a victory he’s been waiting all year to claim. He leans in, lips brushing mine without giving me the kiss I crave.

“That’s all I needed.”

And I’m left trembling, knowing I just handed him every ounce of control.

To be Continued. Come back tomorrow for part four

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: October 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix