But I saw the look on his face when I moaned his name. The sincerity when he dropped to his knees and crawled to me. Felt the way he held me like he was scared I might push him away again.
I’m done punishing myself for missing him, so I take a breath and whisper the truth.
“I never wanted Fireboy, I just wantedyou.”
His shoulder relax a little.
“And not just tonight,” I add. “Not just for sex or closure or anything like that, though holyshit,Mason. That was so hot. I wanted to meet the guy who made me laugh, and listened when I talked about my mom’s gingerbread cookies. Who didn’t make me feel like a freak for avoiding Christmas, and who I’ve spent every day for the last month crushing over like a lunatic.”
A slow, stunned smile pulls at his mouth before he kisses me in a slow and soft kiss, all tongue and apology and aching relief.
He pulls me into him, as though he needs me close, and this time I let him.
We lie there tangled under the blankets, my leg hooked over his hip, his hand splayed across my back. There’s no urgency now, we’re not rushing toward anything.
We’re just here.
And for the first time in weeks, I feel warm in the middle of winter.
***
The scent of something maple-sweet draws me out of sleep.
I blink against the early morning light, slowly registering the creak of floorboards, the hiss of the stovetop, and the low humof Mason’s voice—half-muttering to himself as he fusses with a frying pan.
For a moment, I just lie there, listening and letting it sink in.
He stayed.
There’s a cozy weight in my chest that feels foreign and a little terrifying, but good. So fucking good.
I tug on a long-sleeve shirt and the laciest, most red pair of panties I can find, followed by my lounge shorts.
I’m a little sore and wrung out, but it’s satisfying. Guess this is how it feels when you’ve been manhandled and fucked exactly how you always wanted.
Mason’s standing in front of the stove in nothing but his boxers and navy blue firefighter t-shirt. He looks rumpled and golden and deeply concentrating on whatever he’s flipping in the pan.
“Power’s back on and your first thought is a science experiment?”
He turns, and his face lights up.
“No, that’d involve a Bunsen burner and at least one minor explosion. This is me being domestic.”
I snort and step closer, leaning in close to inspect the pan. “Smells good.”
He tucks an arm around my waist, pulling me closer into the crook of his body, and planting a soft kiss to my forehead. “Pancakes. There was mix in the cupboard, and I figured since I probably broke your pelvis last night…”
“You could bribe me with carbs?”
“Exactly.”
He drops another kiss on my nose, then turns back to the pan.
I hover for a moment, leaning into him and watching the way his broad shoulders move, the relaxed set of his spine.
It’s the most at ease I’ve ever seen him, and possibly the most vulnerable too.
“Don’t you have to get back to the station?”
