Page 136 of The Spare
"I'd love some, baby. Hey, Max," Mason claps Dad on the shoulder before rounding to the other side of the island where I sit, and I accept his kiss graciously. Not rejecting him in front of my father.
Behind closed doors is another story, however.
I would have thought the constant rejection of anything intimate between him and me would have caused him to blow up at me, but it hasn't.
He's exercised a lot of restraint these past three weeks.
"How's my nephew?" Dad asks gruffly, putting another bite in his mouth.
"He's fine. Always fine," Mason says. "I have to meet with him tomorrow night about something important, apparently." He reaches forward, grabbing a saucer and scooping out not one buttwobig slices of pie. My eye go wide, and he sees."What?I need my strength."
"For what?" I giggle.
"Later." He arches a brow, and I look away sharply.
Our sex life has been a little fucked up since I found out he knew my father was alive, and it's been pretty stagnant since we've moved in with Dad temporarily while we've been house hunting these last three weeks.
"You know, Mel, I'm pretty sure I saw a help wanted sign for an additional baker when I was there last week," Dad says, raising a brow and taking a sip of water.
"What are you talking about?" Mason asks, his eyes flicking from Dad's to mine.
"A bakery that's hiring for a new baker."
I blink rapidly. "But I don't have a degree, or any formal training-"
"Doesn't matter, sweetheart," Dad interrupts. "Take some advise from your old man. If you want something out of life, you go grab it by the bullhorns. Dominate it."
Mason grunts and laughs, throwing me an amused look.
"Okay," I say. "Well, then let's go."
Dad's brow arches.
"What?" I tease. "Afraid of fucking up your girlish figure?" I laugh, shaking my head when Mason throws me a 'what the fuck' look. "I'll tell you later," I say quietly.
"Nah, I could go for a brownie actually." He stands up, throwing his napkin down on his plate. "Let's go. It's a little under an hour away."
"Hey, uh, is there any possible way we can leave some of the security behind?" I ask hopefully. "I doubt I can get a job with a bunch of men flanking me."
Mason and Dad trade a look. "Surely we can ask them to stay outside?" Mason asks, collecting our dishes and taking them to the sink to soak.
"Yeah. I doubt anyone will try to kill you at a bakery," I say wryly, rolling my eyes.
Dad gets an amused look on his face and then grins. "Let me talk to my man, Mario. See what I can manage."
He turns on his heels and then walks out of the kitchen, leaving Mason and me alone. I join him at the sink, meaning to rinse while he fills the sink with hot sudsy water.
"I miss you," he says quietly, not taking his eyes off the saucer he's washing.
My eyes well up with tears, those three words making my already heightened emotional state even more distressed. Because I've needed him desperately, but he hasn't forced me into anything. Giving me time and space.
The bubbles trail up his arm, and the water steams between us as we work together. Our arms brush, and guilt swamps me at how I've been denying him sexual intimacy because I've been hurt. He's left his family and moved us all the way to the other side of the States so we could make a new life for ourselves, and I repay him by shutting him out.
Chewing my lip, I tilt my head up to look at him. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
His eyes meet mine, the sadness in them melting to desire. "I'm sorry, too, butterfly."
Standing up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his, moaning as he deepens it slightly. The dish he was washing splashes at he drops it in the sink, and he turns to me, putting his hands on either side of my face and pulling me into him. Soap gets on me, but I don't mind, craning my neck back and parting my lips more for him, stroking my tongue along his.
