Page 78 of Letting Go at 40

“Sex. That’s where this is leading, right? Working up to having sex again.” Autumn wiggles her eyebrows. The twinkle in her eyes mischievous. “Paybacks are hell, sister, and I owe you for that suggestion to make a list and sleep with three men in order to have a baby.”

I laugh at the reminder. Logan was on the list. I’d had no idea Autumn wanted him to be the only man on it. Or that Logan would be willing to be the guy to give Autumn everything she wanted.

Now, Mason is the only guy on my list

+ + +

After a tight hug with Autumn, I swipe away a lingering tear and return to the gathering. Mason doesn’t look at me but eventually saunters up beside me. Standing awkwardly side-by-side, he nudges my arm with his.

“Everything okay?” he asks, lifting a glass and eyeing the liquid within.

“I’m sorry,” I turn to face him, giving him my full attention. “I panicked.” I shrug, not feeling half as cavalier as my body language suggests.

I brush back strands of hair, tucking them behind my ear and hesitantly glance at our friends lingering in the sitting area before looking back at Mason.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” My gaze holds on his eyes. “Autumn knows it was exactly what she saw. I was kissing you.” I glance once more to our friends and then back to Mason. “She knows I’ll probably do it again.”

After chatting with Autumn, I feel good, relieved even. Getting caught kissing Mason wasn’t how I planned for anyone to find out about us. I don’t think I’m ready for others to know, as I’d told Autumn. But I don’t want Mason and I to stop the incredible magic that’s happening between us.

The corner of Mason’s mouth quirks up and he reaches forward, wrapping his arms around my head and tugging me to his chest. He presses a quick kiss to my head and then releases me.

Hours later, the house is quiet with the kids in their rooms. Everyone else has gone to their homes. Archer and Jenna are back with the girls, taking over the apartment above the garage again, and staying through the holidays.

I lay in my new bed, staring at the ceiling, torn between the desire to sneak up to Mason’s room or continue the torture of denying the pulse between my thighs. The heat of need aches at my core. When there’s no denying it anymore, I peel back the blanket, preparing to spring from bed and steal into Mason’s bedroom. But the door to my bedroom slowly opens.

I don’t startle but slowly sit upright. Mason stands in the doorway in sleep pants but no shirt. We hadn’t spoken much the remainder of the day, acting as if nothing happened in the den. Pretending Autumn hadn’t caught us.

But there’s been no ignoring the energy sizzling between us. A crackling of something. We’re either going to combust together or explode because of each other.

I’d rather not fight with him.

Mason closes the door behind him and comes to the edge of the bed. Without a word, our eyes connect. His nostrils flare. His chest heaves. He looks like a man who raced across miles to get to my room, not climbed down a flight of stairs.

“Mason,” I whisper, confirming it’s him when I know by the expensive scent who he is. Maybe his name is more a call. A siren’s song pulling him to me.

As if responding, he crawls up the bed and over me, forcing me to fall back to the pillows. He hovers over me on all fours. Hands braced by my head. Knees on either side of my hips.

While the nights are cold in December, I wear only a nightdress to bed. One with thick straps and a vee at the breast. It falls to my knees and it’s the perfect weight of fabric once I tuck myself into the layers of blankets on my bed. Tonight, I’ve been sweltering.

Mason rises over me, cupping my jaw in one hand, rubbing his thumb over my lips. Then his palm skims down my neck to my chest, and I’m an inferno.

“I swore I wouldn’t touch you unless you were mine but I’m finding it harder and harder to stay away.” He watches his hand blaze a trail down my skin. Palm pausing at the edge of my exposed cleavage. “Harder not to want to touch you. Taste you. Claim you.”

“Oh God,” I whimper. I want those things. I want his hands on me. His mouth on sensitive places.

“Tell me what you want, Anna.”

“You,” I whisper, knowing it’s true.

“I need specifics. Kissing? Touching? Fucking?”

The directness of his last question brings my eyes to his. “Is that all we’d be to one another?” A one-night stand? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? The thought of any of those things doesn’t settle well in my belly.

“Fucking you would never be enough. But I’m following your lead here. Your call with what we do.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”