Then I notice the little squares of dark chocolate.
I sit up eagerly. "Ooh, gimme gimme."
He sets the tray down on the nightstand, angling it so the chocolate is in easy reach. "Pre-heat nutrition protocol, as discussed. Do you need anything else right now?"
I give him my best pout. "You're not staying?"
"We talked about this. You told me how you wanted this to go. Do you still remember that?"
I do remember discussing a number of finer points related to this heat that all seem entirely unimportant now. "No idea."
His clinical gaze passes over me. "Eat your cheese, Phoenix. I'll be back in a little while."
Except there's nothing clinical about the way his pupils dilate when they reach the bare skin of my shoulders.
I lift the edge of the blanket, revealing that I'm wearing nothing under the bedsheets. "Or you could stay."
"Get in."
Mason's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Phoenix?—"
"Don'tPhoenixme." I pat the mattress beside me, letting the sheet slip a little lower. "Come join me the nest. It misses you."
"The nest doesn't have feelings."
"Well,Ihave feelings. And right now my feelings want you horizontal and within easy touching distance."
He picks up a strawberry from the tray and holds it out to me instead of moving closer.
I bite into the strawberry, licking the juice that runs down off her fingers.
"We talked about how this was going to go," he reminds me. "Remember? The schedule?"
"The schedule can get fucked." I lick strawberry juice from my lower lip and enjoy the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow. "As hard as me, hopefully."
Mason closes his eyes briefly, like he's asking some higher power for patience. "You said you wanted Atticus first. Remember?"
Damn it.
I did say that. In fact, Last week, I'd expressed a strong preference for Atticus to be with me when the first wave hit. And I do remember really wanting that to be how this goes.
Now that just seems like an obstacle between me and Mason's hands on my body.
"But, Atticus isn't here," I point out, hearing the petulance in my own voice.
"He'll be right in." Mason leans over the bed, close enough that his breath ghosts across my cheek. "I texted him when I heard you moving around."
I grab the front of his shirt and yank him closer.
Our mouths meet in a kiss that's more demand than request. I pour every ounce of pre-heat frustration into it. All the ache and the restlessness that's been building for the last few hours.
Mason makes a sound against my lips that might could be protest or surrender. His hands find my shoulders, thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin there, and for one glorious moment I think he's going to give in.
Then he pulls back.
"Phoenix." His voice is rough now, edges fraying. "We made a plan."
"God, you're a tease." I release his shirt with a dramatic sigh and flop back against the pillows. "I hate that I let you talk me out of syncing our heats. At least then you'd be as desperate as I am."
