Page 109 of Ten Hammers

“Sounds good, kids!” her voice floats back. “All the drinks and snacks in the basket on the table are yours, but if you need anything else, give us a shout!”

Mason squeezes my hand and leads me down the hall and through another door to the decompression lounge.

Our lounge is just as cool as the smash room was, but an entirely different vibe. Calming, with soft music; comforting, with large plush couches; and surprisingly cool, with a sleek red and black pool table as the centerpiece.

The door latches behind us with a thud and a satisfying click, and the sounds of the public world vanish, leaving only the soft hum of the lights above us.

Alone together at last. It feels like the silence is amplifying my anticipation as Mason’s eyes lock on mine. His gaze is so intense, as if he is trying to drink up the sight of me before I disappear, like I’m a mirage.

I waggle my brows. “Ever made out on a pool table, Hammer?”

He bursts out laughing, breaking the intensity of his gaze, and heads over to one of the low tables, and the gift basket on top.

“What?” I ask, following. “Is that, like, your speciality or something?”

“No, but… that is my pool table.” He grabs an energy drink and cracks it open, passing it to me before doing the same for himself. “Devin’s keeping it for me until I figure out where I’m going to land eventually.”

He clinks our cans together before chugging at least half of his in one go.

But the statement hits me in the gut and the heart, twice over, as his words sink in. “Are you thinking about going back to LA?”

He lowers the can, opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say a word, I shake my head.

“No, never mind. I don’t want to talk about ‘eventually.’ We’re living in the moment, right?”

“We are,” he says.

“Good. Because right now, in this exact moment, I want to make out on your pool table.”

A sexy grin slides over his face, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, do you? Well, I can help with that.”

When he picks me up and sets me on the edge of the pool table, placing himself between my thighs, the rich yet delicate sandalwood scent of him fills my senses, heady and familiar.

“You’re mine all mine, Cupcake,” he whispers, his thumbs digging possessively into my thighs.

I shiver, loving it, and I’m thrown back to our first kiss in the kitchen, when I sat on the counter and he touched my thighs. It feels like a lifetime ago already, what with everything that has changed since then— the most important change being myself. I was so embarrassed by my body as he kissed me, then, unable to see past the lumps and rolls to really open up to him.

I’m not by any means as confident as Goldie now, but I embrace the moment and place my hands over his.

“And what do you plan to do to me?” I challenge.

He grins and slides his hands all over my body. “Savor you. Every single inch of you.”

With my hands atop his his, I feel him as he feels me. The fire in his eyes burns brighter the longer I allow him to explore. He skims his hands under my shirt, over my stomach and around my breasts. And it feels fucking good. When his hands reach my nipples and his breath hitches, I let out a tiny sound.

“Fuck, Win.” And then his lips collide with mine.

Our mouths instantly meld together, our tongues entwining. His touch ignites me, warmth trailing everywhere his hands explore. He squeezes, fingers dancing wild patterns along my thighs. He pinches and teases and grabs my flesh.

I try not to think that he’s holding on to me like this, and kissing with such intensity, as if to keep me from slipping away.

Well, I’m not going anywhere. I tell him that as best I can with my body and mouth. I lose myself in the intensity, shedding any last concerns about being too much or too anything for him. All that matters is the exquisite sensation of our kiss, just like our kiss weeks ago, but this time with a fresh layer of deliciousness and urgency added to it.

“Winnie.” His teeth graze my bottom lip, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb, pressing into my skin, teases as he works his way between my legs.

I moan approvingly and tilt my hips toward him.

But as a groan pulls from him, Mason backs up, leaving me perched on the side of the pool table, breathless and wanting, aching for the warmth of his touch to envelop me again.

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