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Gently, he brushes my hair from my face as I lift my lips back to his.
“When it feels right, it’s right,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
I nod, my body and heart knowing, guiding, urging me forward. Weston pulls away, stands, and holds out his hand. When I take it, he leads me to the bedroom. I have zero doubts about this man, about how much I want and need him, and about how he’s the one for me. Weston doesn’t rush; he kisses me as we undress, and then makes love to me.
The next morning, I wake up in his bed and am almost shocked I’m still here. He’s not lying next to me, and I pull the sheets from my naked body. I dig in the top drawer of his dresser and slip on a T-shirt, then walk through the house where he’s cooking breakfast for us.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He smirks. I lean against the doorway and admire the muscles that ripple down his back. Weston is gorgeous as hell with his six-pack and sexy V that goes all the way down to his wonderful package.
He scoops some eggs and bacon on two plates, then leans forward and kisses me when he comes close, and I’m ready for my second helping of him.
As we’re eating, we share stolen glances and knowing smirks.
“You know you’re mine now, Soph,” he tells me sweetly. “I don’t want any other man to have you.”
“I just want you, Weston. I can tell you that,” I tell him confidently. As I look at him, our future flashes before my eyes, and it’s so damn beautiful. Me and him, little feet pitter-pattering on the hardwood floor, and a dog. All that’s missing is the white picket fence.
“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” I ask nervously.
He looks at me and smiles. “Nothing yet. I don’t have any plans.”
“Want to go to a party with me? I want you to meet everyone.”
“I’d love to join you, sweetheart.”
It’s the next step in our relationship, for him to meet the people I care about the most. And God, I hope they like him as much as I do.
Chapter Nine
Mason
FIVE MONTHS BEFORE THE FIGHT
I finish stocking the cases of beer and wine I bought for the party in the fridge. Tonight, we decided to relive our college days and throw a huge New Year’s Eve party. Liam and I invited every person we know, and I expect a house full. It’s been a while since we’ve let loose and just hung out with our friends; though lately, it’s been a bit difficult.
Since Lennon had her baby a few weeks ago, Hunter has been helping her in any way he can. Really, he’s been by her side since the day Brandon died. Their relationship has formed into more, though neither will admit it.
While she was in the hospital, we visited the new addition. I know Lennon’s gonna make a great mom, and Alison is going to be spoiled rotten, especially if Liam, Sophie, Maddie, and I have anything to do with it.
I know it hasn’t been easy on any of them. We’re all still grieving the loss of Brandon, and not a day goes by when we don’t think about him. But out of all of us, Hunter has had it the worst. It’s obvious how much he loves Lennon, how much he’s always loved her, and though he was an asshole to her in the beginning, we know he’d do anything for her now. He’s stepped up to fill the shoes of his best friend, which is more than admirable.
I texted him a few days ago and invited him to the party, but he refused to leave Lennon at home with the baby, which is understandable since it’s only been a couple of weeks. Lennon still needs help, and he won’t leave her side. If it were me, I’d do the same thing.
“Did you get champagne?” Liam asks from behind, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Damn. I knew I was forgetting something,” I deadpan.
“Mason. We can’t toast at midnight unless there’s champagne,” he argues.
It takes everything in me not to burst out into laughter. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s always been such a little bitch about this. Liam has a soft spot for traditions.
“Don’t know what to say. You go to the store. It was a madhouse in there. I’m surprised I made it out with everything I did. One of the frats is throwing a huge ass party, so the liquor stores have been wiped,” I explain, which isn’t a lie.
He huffs, and I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of Dom Pérignon.
“Happy?” I ask, waving my hand for him to see the expensive bottle of champagne.
“You’re a dick.” He smirks. “You do know Sophie is bringing someone tonight, right?”
