I regarded him for a moment, somewhat shocked. “You know? You are absolutely right,” I agreed firmly.
“Usually am.” He winked before offering a two-fingered salute and striding out the door.
“Happy for you, brother.” Max wrapped Mason in a man-hug, clapping him hard on the back before turning kind eyes to me. “Welcome to the family, Ellie. Hope to see you soon.”
I nodded as Sal moved in to say his goodbyes before we were left with Cole.
“You’ll remember what we talked about?” he asked Mason. At Mason’s nod, he turned his penetrating gaze to me. “You’ve had it rough, little lady,” he rumbled. “Many of our women can relate. I know from personal experience that now’s the time to remind you that you have all the control, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, not fully understanding what he meant but having an inkling. “Travel safe.”
“Always do.” He nodded with a chin lift before striding out the door.
Moments later, the deafening roar of multiple motorcycles fired up, rattling the windows and surely horrifying the neighbors in Ryan’s high-end suburban community.
Mason pulled me to the couch, Ryan and Lily having made themselves scarce either to give us privacy or to have some privacy of their own.
I straddled his lap, my hands cupping his face. “What did Cole mean, I have all the power?”
“Well, baby, I’d imagine he means that literally and figuratively,” he mused. “You fucking own me, body and soul, and as a man who loves his wife the same, he gets that. And in a quite literal sense, you have the choice of what happens with Brian—it’s what I was talking over with them. After everything, I wanted you to have that. So, he can rot in jail or, he can…”
“Rot six feet under,” I finished for him with a sigh.
“Yep,” he confirmed.
“That’s… well, that’s a lot,” I muttered.
He stroked my hair back, his thumbs skating over my collarbone. “I want to take care of you, worship you, love you fucking desperately for the rest of our lives, but what I won’t do is make choices for you. Not with the kind of woman you are—not with how strong you are.”
“As long as we’re absolutely sure he’s never getting out, I’d rather he rot,” I declared.
“He’s never getting out,” Mason assured me.
“Then that’s my decision,” I confirmed.
“Consider it done. Now, are we going to find that love shack soon so we can have some privacy?” he growled against my mouth.
“Already have something set up for tomorrow with that realtor you hired.”
“Good.” He replied, his tone pleased. “I told her we were under the gun.”
“Actually,” I murmured, swiveling my hips. “I found the place, not her. You’re not the only one that wants for me to scream.”
His groan was all the confirmation I needed that rushing the process a bit was a smart move.
* * *
“It’s small.” Our realtor wrinkled her nose the next day when I had her meet us at the property I’d seen online.
“Most would consider this a large home.” I rolled my eyes, gesturing around the great room with vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors. The four-bedroom home was just on the outskirts of Denver, commutable for both of us but with a bit of land.
“I like it,” Mason commented as he walked through the kitchen and began to head upstairs to the bedrooms. Though we wanted a cozy space, Mason was a large man, and I knew in any home too small, he’d feel cramped. This home had high ceilings, something I’d realized he needed when he’d hit his head more than once on the doorframe in my childhood home. It had the space and feel I was looking for with plenty of light, warm tones, and some appealing vintage features. It wasn’t stark and it wasn’t flawless, which in my eyes made it perfect.
“You like it?” he asked me when I joined him in the master bedroom that was half the size of our current bedroom but still had plenty of room.
“I do,” I replied, poking my head into the en-suite bathroom. “It needs some work, but nothing major. Might be fun to do some projects.” I shrugged, already thinking about the possibilities.
“You can hire people for that,” our realtor pointed out.
