Page 63 of I Choose You

Mason nods and chances a glance at her for the first time since she walked in on us. “I hear you, Della. Loud and clear.”

Then, she’s out of the kitchen, and the mortification of what just occurred buries me. My head falls to Mason’s chest, and I heave out a breath.

“She took it better than Luke; at least we have that going for us.”

28

Mason

Mackenzie snuggles into her pillow as I drag the covers over our shoulders. Fall in Maine this year is cooler than it’s been previously, and I swear one of us forgot to turn the heat up. My room is like an icebox, and it doesn’t help that I’m naked. However, it gives me a reason to tug Mackenzie’s body closer and hold her.

My hand curls around her bare hip, the bruise on it healed nicely and looks better than it did a week ago. When I think about those moments with her in the bathroom, when I stripped her jeans off, those lacy panties come to mind, and then start the memories of when she was against the bathroom sink. I propped her ass there and pushed into her until we both saw stars. We ate Chinese takeout afterward in my bed and dozed off watching reruns of The Office. The following day, she woke in my arms, and we’ve been doing it every day since.

It’s nothing I imagined it would be.

It’s everything I imagined it would be.

My heart is more obsessive than ever, making me want to spend every minute of the day with her. Action is always so much more powerful than spoken words or silent thoughts, and we’ve thrown caution to the wind now that I’ve been inside her. I’ll never be able to let the fuck go.

Trepidation wiggles into my damn head if I sit and think about the time ticking down. In the next week, this last project will be complete. I’ll run reports and send them off. The following week, movers will come to pick up my belongings, and I’ll be boarding a plane to Austin. In fourteen days, these moments will end. I won’t be waking up with her in my arms. My arm won’t territorially cling to her side whenever I’m nearby. My morning arousal won’t have a back to press into—or better yet—her slickness.

Which is a tragedy by itself, if I’m being honest.

“Morning.” My voice is gruff from sleep. I’m the one who should be tired, considering our middle of the night sex eats more into my sleep than hers. Needing to wake an hour earlier is quickly becoming a bother.

My hand moves over her skin, curving around to her stomach when she shuffles to her back and looks at me with a sleepy smile. “Hey.”

God, she’s so damn beautiful. I don’t know how I managed all those nights sharing a bed when we were working toward degrees. How did I not confess my feelings for her sooner? “This is even better than when we used to do it in college,” I say, cheekily.

I think back to the days when getting an “A” on a final was most important. When we studied hard, and distractions of life after college were plenty. Other than Luke’s short-lived party stint the one year, we weren’t big partiers. In fact, some nights, I would study well into the morning hours and when my brain didn’t want to shut off when I crawled into bed, I’d sneak into Mackenzie’s. There wasn’t an underlying agenda back then. We didn’t share feelings. We showed up for the other when needed to. That’s all.

“We didn’t sleep naked back then,” she murmurs with a lazy smile.

“Had we,” I start, giving her side a teasing pinch. “I would have flunked out.”

She giggles. “No, you would not have.”

The fuck I wouldn’t have. If this is what I woke up to, acing my classes would not have been my priority. Learning her body would have.

I’m quick on my hands, hovering over her to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Yes.” Another kiss peppered on her chin. “I would have.” Another kiss halfway down her neck. “I don’t know how we managed not to do this sooner. It’s so…” My trail of kisses descends to the hidden territory covered by the comforter.

A whimper of a moan pulls from her mouth, making me feel like a fucking rockstar for having been the one responsible for eliciting such a noise from her, and I continue my descent.

“What matters is that we’re enjoying each other now,” she responds with a hint of peacefulness.

Again, the thought of my move pops into my head. I hate knowing she might be wondering about it lately, too. I haven’t commented on it since that night in the bathroom. I’ve wanted to live our lives without it getting between us. But it’s getting to the point of inevitability. We’re going to have to discuss it, whether we like it or not.

Scattering one last kiss on her smooth skin, I lift my head to read her face, the comforter hanging over my head. “My boss wants me to fly out to Austin at the end of the week to make sure they set everything up for my move. I’ve seen photos of my apartment, but I’d like to see it in person. Come with me.” It’s not a question, more like a request that I hope to God she agrees to. I don’t want to be stuck in Texas for a weekend without her.

Why should we suffer when we can be together?

Her eyes take on a hue of green I don’t think I’ve seen before, blurring over the caramel brown. She swallows. Blinks. A bead of sweat forms on the back of my neck. Blood rushes through me, sparking my nerves to life.

Please say yes.

Please say you’ll come with me.

“Okay,” she says.

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