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Mason stares softly at me for a little while. “I know my family would like to meet you one day, too.” Then he jumps up out of his seat. “Oh, andIalmost forgot. I brought you something.”
“You did?” I watch as he leans over and unzips the outer pocket of his duffel on the floor.
I swear, he blushes as he hands me a small brown paper bag.The Wildberry Bakeryis printed in pink across the front.
I carefully peek inside the bag. “What is this?” I don’t wait for an answer, sniffing the bag’s contents and then letting out a long moan.Ohmigod, the smell alone is making my mouth water.
I look up in time to see Mason’s grin widen. Then he shakes his head. “It’s just some chocolate mousse pie. My Grammy’s recipe is the best. People drive for hours and hours to buy this pie from her bakery.”
“Wow. Thank you.” I beam in delight, my heart fluttering. People don’t do nice things for me. Not like this. Especially not unicorn guys.
“My pleasure.”
We sit opposite each other at the kitchen counter. He eats the leftover dinner I saved him, and I take tiny bites of my chocolate mousse pie, moaning quietly as I savor each and every crumb.
“This is unlike anything I’ve ever had before. What’s the secret ingredient?” I ask.
“The secret ingredient?” He stops eating and leans on his steepled hands. “Well, are you willing to go through a rigorous background check, sign a legally-binding NDA,andpossibly get implanted with a tracking device? Because that’s the only way to get your hands on any of Grammy’s recipes. It’s either that, or marry into the family,” Mason says, dead serious about every word.
A loud, disbelieving laugh escapes me.
“You laugh, but there’s a good chance Grammy’s people are probably listening in. Right now.”
“Then Grammy’s sweets sound every bit worth the drive.” I smile. I suck on my empty fork, not about to let a single drop of Mason’s grandma’s pie go to waste.
His eyes fall to my lips and linger. Then a guilty look comes over his face and he subtly shakes his head.
“Well, you’re pretty talented in the kitchen yourself.” Mason points his fork at his nearly empty plate. “Why is this so fucking good?” He brings his hand to his mouth, licking sauce off of his finger.
My gaze catches on the motion of his tongue as it swirls the tip of his thumb.
I die a little bit inside, wishing he were licking me. Any part of me. I’m not picky.
When my eyes flick back to his, I shrug and try to act unaffected. “It’s all about farm to table. Not only does it taste a hell of a lot better than grocery store stuff but there are so many health benefits of the fresh ingredients I buy from the farmer’s market. If you’re interested, Rainbow’s stand is the best. She and her husband have the most amazing veggies.”
Mason nods. “Well, I might just have to head down there next time.”
His knee bumps mine under the counter. My chest hitches. A heavy need settles at my core. God—I want him to touch me so bad. Just like he did that night at the motel. I’d give anything to feel his hands on my bare skin tonight.
Then—almost like he can sense where my thoughts are headed—he stands abruptly, hiseyes squarely on me. “I’d better turn in. Good night, Karli.”
I swallow. “Good night, Mason.”
I sit at the counter, watching Mason as he takes care of his dirty plate, grabs his bag, and climbs the stairs to his room.
And I know it’s wrong but I kind of wish I could go with him.
Fuck it. I like him. I really, really shouldn’t. But I like him.
24
MASON
“Fuck. Fuuuck,” I mumble, eyes half-closed in the darkness of my bedroom. My loose fist jerks back and forth, gently yanking on my morning erection.
Visuals of my roommate flash through my mind like a movie reel.
Karli standing in the kitchen in her pink tiger-striped underwear.
