Heat coils low in my belly, winding tighter with every thrust. My toes curl as I reach for my cock, barely stroking a few times before my orgasm rips through me. Come shoots out so hard it hits my chin, dribbling down my neck. My arms buckle, and I collapse into the sheets, face pressed into the mattress.
Mason only manages a few more thrusts before he tenses behind me. He comes with a guttural moan, his cock pulsing deep inside. His nails bite into my waist hard enough to leave bruises.
When he finally slumps forward, his body drapes over mine like a blanket, heavy and warm. His lips brush the back of my neck, his nose buried against my nape as we both struggle to catch our breath. For a long moment, neither of us move. The ceiling fan hums above, stirring cool air over our hot, sticky bodies.
At last, Mason pulls out and rolls onto his side, his chest still heaving. “Do you want to shower first?” he asks, voice low and worn.
I swallow, turning to meet his eyes. “Actually, I was thinking… maybe we could shower together?”
His brows lift, surprise flickering before softening into something tender. “Oh. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
I nod. “Yeah. With you, I am.”
Mason brushes a kiss against my jaw before rolling off the bed. He stretches, then holds out his hand. “Come on.”
I lace my fingers through his, and together we pad barefoot across the apartment into the bathroom. I reach in and twist the faucet, the pipes groaning before water thunders to life, steam curling toward the ceiling.
When the spray turns hot, I step beneath it, and Mason follows close. His chest presses to my back, arms looping loosely around my waist. Water rushes over us, rinsing away sweat and stickiness.
He reaches for the soap, works it into my loofah, and turns me gently toward him. I should feel exposed here—under the harsh light and cascading water—but I don’t. His touch is unhurried and patient as his hands glide across my chest and shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” Mason murmurs, eyes lingering on me in a way that makes my chest tighten.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to believe him. Our mouths press together, soft and slow, steam curling around us.
In that moment, I imagine carving out a place inside me where his love can take root, winding tendrils around the fragile parts of my heart.
Chapter Forty
Trees zoom past in a blur of gold and crimson, the highway lined with fallen leaves that scatter when the wind kicks up. I’ve been counting down the hours all week—fidgeting over my research publication draft, unable to focus during last night’s evening class. Through it all, my thoughts kept circling back here, to Claremont Shores. To him.
By the time I pull into the trailer park, my stomach is already a knot of nerves and excitement. Mason’s place looks the same as always—dirty white siding, flickering porch light—but the sight of it hits me like a jolt of caffeine.
Before I can even shut off my car, the screen door swings open. Mason barrels down the steps two at a time, the chilly autumn air clouding with his breath. He doesn’t stop running until he’s right in front of me, yanking open my car door. Then his hands are cupping my face, his mouth crashing into mine with a searing heat.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.
I laugh into the kiss, a little dazed. “We literally talked on the phone this morning.”
He shakes his head, resting his forehead against mine. “Hearing your voice doesn’t compare to this,” he says, squeezing my hips. “Doesn’t even come close.”
My face feels hot as he grabs my hand, tugging me inside the trailer. Maddie rushes down the narrow hallway before I can even take my shoes off.
“Hunter!” she squeals, wrapping me in a hug so tight I almost lose my balance. I hug her back, grinning into her hair. She looks taller somehow, though it’s only been a couple of weeks since I last saw her.
“Hey, Mads.” I give her a squeeze before she lets go.
Over her shoulder, my gaze lingers on Anna’s open bedroom door. She’s curled in her bed, a blanket pulled up to her chest. She’s lost more weight, and an oxygen cannula trails from her nose, the tubing looping over her ears. She stirs faintly but doesn’t wake.
Mason clears his throat, his hand tightening around mine like he’s urging me to keep moving. “Come on,” he says quietly, steering me toward the dining room.
On the table sits a vegetarian pizza, steam curling from the open box. Maddie bounces into the chair beside me, already grabbing a slice. Mason slides in across from me, his expression forced into something lighter.
I take a slice, the melted cheese stretching as I pull it free. The three of us eat together in the cramped little dining room, the pizza warm between us, as Maddie rambles about high school drama and gossip.
“So,” Maddie says suddenly, talking around a mouthful of cheese, “did you tell Hunter the good news yet?”
I raise an eyebrow at Mason. “Good news?”
