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The light from the hallway filtered around his room, highlighting the heavy wood furniture in the space. The top of his dresser was littered with two watches, his wallet and keys, his Revs badge, a slew of receipts, and a half-empty bottle of water. His T-shirt was draped on a chair by the window, and his sneakers and socks were on the floor. The clutter reminded me of the teenage Mason. His mom always picked at him for leaving a trail everywhere he went. Although the rest of the apartment was tidy, it was clear from the state of this room that he hadn’t changed that much over the years.
On the king-size platform bed in the center of the room, he lay on his stomach, arms and legs spread, taking up the entire space. The bed was huge, but so was Mason. At six-four and almost two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, the man was enormous. I continued my assessment of him as I tiptoed toward him. Halfway across the room, I realized how silly it was to move so quietly. After all, I was here to wake him. I shook my head at myself as I laid a hand on his bare shoulder.
A deep, throaty groan rumbled through him. Then he was pushing up onto the elbow of his good arm. The muscles of his upper arms rippled and bulged as he propped himself up.
I swallowed back the wave of attraction that hit me at the sight. He’d always been strong, but now, with his ripped biceps and shoulders on display like this, I was flooded with all kinds of thoughts I had no business thinking.
“Head’s fine,” he muttered. He was looking at me, scanning my face, though his eyes were out of focus. He continued his perusal, moving lower. When he got to my tank top, he blinked, and his gaze sharpened.
Shit, he was zeroing in on the thin material covering my braless breasts.
I fought a shiver, even as my nipples hardened under his scrutiny.
He wet his lips.
I might have stopped breathing.
Slamming his eyes shut, he locked his jaw. “Either climb in or get out. I swear to God, Aurora, I only have so much control.”
I couldn’t look away from his full lips as memories of them moving against mine floated through my mind. I could almost feel his hand cupping my neck and pulling me closer like it did all those years ago. Eleven years ago, he had been a good kisser. I could only imagine time had improved his skill.
I glided an inch closer, consumed by the need to feel his arms around me, before logic took over and I remembered why I was in here. My goal tonight was to wake him. Because I was currently being paid to watch him for concussion symptoms.
Backing away, I held my hands up, my chest heaving and short, staccato breaths escaping my lungs. I tripped over a shoe in the middle of the room, but righted myself before I could embarrass myself too badly. “Sorry,” I muttered, and with that, I turned and fled the room.
For a long time, I lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. There were a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t get involved with Mason. The most important of them all? My career. I couldn’t just send out a few applications and get picked up by another team. Jobs like mine were highly sought after and difficult to get.
I was creating problems that didn’t exist anyway. Mason and I were old friends. Nothing more. It wasn’t worth stressing about my job one way or another. I just needed to ignore the mess of emotions that he was creating inside me.
I spun to my side and slid my hand under my pillow. With my eyes squeezed shut, I prayed for sleep. What felt like minutes after I finally dozed off, my alarm was going off, alerting me that it was time to check on him again. This time, I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders before I shuffled to his bedroom door. I tapped his foot lightly, and when he moved, I hightailed it out of the room. But even if I’d avoided another encounter, sleep still eluded me.
The click of a cabinet closing pulled me from my fitful dreams, and when my brain came online enough to register where I was, the first thing I noticed was the scent of coffee. Coffee that Mason probably shouldn’t be drinking.
I hauled my exhausted body out of bed, changed into my black pants and polo, and fixed my hair. Then I took a moment to breathe deeply and bolster my willpower. I was here to do my job. Nothing more. And that’s what I’d do for the next few days. No more joking, no more books or reminiscing about old times. Just my job.
I opened the door and headed into the kitchen. Just as my feet hit the tile, I pulled up short.
The man was propped up against the counter, wearing nothing but grey sweats. He held his mug aloft and tipped it my way. “It’s decaf,” he said, as if he was prepared for my admonishment.
I refused to let my focus stray from his face. “Good.”
“You hungry? Wanna grab breakfast?” He brought his mug to his lips and watched me over the top as he sipped.
“Like go out?”
“I don’t have anything here.” He shrugged and set his mug down.
As he did, I lost the battle I’d been fighting with myself and slowly took him in. His shoulders and his broad chest and his toned six-pack.
Damn, the man was perfect.
He smirked like he knew what I was thinking but was nice enough to not say anything.
“Damiano and Avery always talk about the banana pancake special on Tuesdays at the diner a few blocks away.”
For a moment, I scanned the room. Going out to breakfast didn’t feel like a work duty, but Dr. Anderson and Beckett had both made it clear that my only priority this week was to stick with Mason so I could keep an eye on him and rehab his shoulder. I supposed eating breakfast together fell into the keeping an eye on him category. “Okay.”
“Let me get dressed.” He stalked past me toward his room.
