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“Can I get you some coffee?”
“Want to stay just like this until I wake up a bit.” He sighed, snuggling in closer and nuzzling my bare thigh with his soft whiskers.
I didn’t bother chastising or stopping him. If he felt better, I wasn’t about to say no to whatever he begged for. Probably my dick. Blood seeped into my length, but I ignored it, sipping my coffee and playing with Mason’s hair.
“I really want to fuck around with you,” Mason finally said, his voice still sleepy, “but I have dragon breath, I need to shower, and I’m starved since I haven’t eaten a damn thing all day.”
Chuckling, I set my coffee aside and climbed from the bed. “Then get a move on, my soon-to-be lover.”
“Jesus.” Mason rolled onto his back, giving me an eyeful of his impressive cock at half-mast. I couldn’t imagine sitting on that monster…
He’d topped last time he’d had sex—with Joseph.
My stomach curdled the coffee I’d swallowed, and I grabbed up my pants and turned away, annoyed at my jealousy. He was no more a virgin than I was. I had no right to be upset about past sex partners.
“I’m sorry about the state of my apartment,” he murmured as I quickly dressed.
I paused from leaving the bedroom to glance back at Mason.
“I’m not usually this much of a pig—I’ve just been off-kilter since that night with… Anyway, I shut down to pretty much everything except surviving the past couple of weeks. I tend to lose my sense of priority when I get overwhelmed, which is quite often if I’m being honest.”
A smile quirked my lips. “I understand, Mason. And thank you for sharing that with me. At least you recognize what happens. That’s something we can work with.”
Mason sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing me. “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to create a chart for you. A few chores every day will help make things easier and keep shit from piling up until you’re out of this funk.”
Wetness welled in his eyes. “I’m a loser.”
“The fuck you are.” Frowning, I returned and dropped to my knees between his legs. I grasped his cheeks. “You just have big feelings, emotions you’ve never learned how to process. But that can change, Mason. I’m going to help you, and you’re going to let me.”
He sagged into my hold, nodding as though happy someone else took the reins.
I tipped his head and kissed his forehead, since he’d claimed to have dragon breath. “Shower. I’ll go get you something to eat.”
Fifteen minutes later, he joined me in the kitchen dressed only in boxer briefs, his hair still damp and droplets of water clinging to his chest hair around that damnedJ. Regardless of that scar and how he’d gotten it, Mason was a tall drink of water I was more than ready to swallow down. But, the man needed food in his stomach more than my dick up his ass.
He glanced around the kitchen while settling into a chair at his semi-cleared table. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“You’re right,” I agreed while slicing the last too-ripe strawberry he’d had in his fridge atop the waffle I’d made. The iron had sat atop the countertop and appeared well-used. He also had two boxes of dry batter mix in the cabinet above it. “But I cleaned up to lessen how overwhelming it probably seemed to you.”
“It was. Thank you.”
I set the plate in front of him and used spray whipped cream to top his breakfast off.
“You made me waffles exactly how I like them.” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard.
Smiling, I kissed the crown of his head and rummaged in the bag the ER nurse had sent home with us. “Dig in, baby.”
While he ate, I taped smaller bandages to his temple stitches and shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better.” He chewed slowly, glancing at his cell phone with wary eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting down beside him.
“Just…texts. It’s okay.” He busied himself with his last bite of breakfast.
He needed help, someone else to lead—so I did.
