Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
My heart kicked up into high-gear.
I’d said something similar to Elliot, many months ago, pleading with him to just make me feel loved. It was something he could never provide. Not in the way I needed.
Hearing those words on Mason’s lips stoked a smoldering fire in me that I’d thought must have long died out.
Knocked on my ass with love.
I thought I’d buried the idea of that even being possible for me, too.
“I see,” I told him gently.
He looked wrecked. “I know I’m a mess,” he said, his voice bitter with disappointment.
He really thought that that would scare me away? I guess I was the reason for that—I’d told him I was incapable of any sort of relationship right now, because I was so convinced that was what was best.
“Well,” I told him. “If you’re a mess, then I am, too.”
I reached for his hips again and pulled him down onto me at the edge of the bed. He straddled me, letting his knees sink into the mattress next to each edge of my thighs.
His eyes were wild as he looked at me.
So full of raw emotion—all of the things he usually kept behind closed doors, projecting an unbothered, fun-loving attitude to the world. I was seeing all of him, now, though, and the fact that he trusted me with it? That felt like a gift.
I gripped the sides of his hair, gently pulling him into a kiss.
He melted into me. His hands found their way down to my exposed skin, skating along the sides of my body. When he reached my back he gave it a hard scratch with his nails.
“So good. Do that again,” I said.
He scratched at me, going from my back and wrapping around to my hips, leaving red trails.
“Fuck, I’m not supposed to want you,” he murmured against my lips. But as I tilted my head back a little more and looked in his eyes, he seemed to rethink it and go in for a kiss all over again.
He smelled so good, like the fresh summer scent of the outdoors and the shampoo I was starting to get too familiar with. I felt the weight of him sink against me and I wanted him even closer. It felt like a pressure valve was finally releasing in me after something had been bottled up for way too long.
Mason wanted me.
Not on some secret, covert camping trip, where he hid me from the rest of the world like Elliot used to do. Not only on his terms, but on mine, too.
I want you, too, Mason.
He was beautiful chaos.
A lonesome cowboy who still partied like an animal.
A gold-hearted softie who could still banter and roast me all night.
And a person who loved everyone around him so much that he forgot to love himself—the colorful, sexy, infuriating, irresistible person he was.
From the moment I met him it had felt like Mason was on an urge to undo all of my sanity, all with a sweet smile on his face. Now, it was working. I couldn’t help myself when I was around him, and now that he was here on top of me I was reduced to nothing but pure desire. I needed to show him how worthy he was.
“Needed this,” I said, my voice coming out as a whisper.
He looked good, lit by the dim light at my bedside table behind me. His rainstorm blue eyes looked more soulful than ever. I’d heard the phrase getting lost in someone’s eyes but I’d never actually felt it as much as when I was with Mason.
“Why am I still wearing clothes?” he finally asked.
I hummed. “Great question. Off.”
He obliged in a moment. I helped him unbutton each of the buttons on the front of his fancy shirt. Once it was loose I leaned in and kissed the soft skin at the center of his chest, and he shrugged off the shirt, tossing it away.
I breathed in his scent and his heat. I had an animalistic urge to be rough with him but I also had just as strong of a desire to take care of him, to treat him like something precious, because he was.
He was insistent, though. He slid off of me and then undid his pants with no ceremony, too, shoving away all of the clothing he had on below his waist.
He was naked now, his cock out in front of him, hard and thick. He grabbed it at the root, his balls pressed up behind his fist, and I was distracted for a moment by the memory of making him come.
Good God.
“I want to see you, too,” he murmured softly, giving his cock one last long stroke to the tip before he let it go.
He moved his hand between my legs, feeling for the bulge beneath my pants, laying strokes with his palm along my cock.