Page 108 of Shattered Promise

The first shock of pleasure is so sharp I nearly slide down the wall, but he pins me up, murmuring, “I got you. I got you,” into the crook of my neck. It’s sloppy, all elbows and knees and wet skin, but he never lets me lose my balance. If anything, he holds me tighter, the angle pushing him even deeper until I’m keening, grip clawing at his back for purchase.

His mouth finds my ear, low and guttural, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Every word thuds through me like a second pulse. “Every goddamn minute you’re not here, I want you like this. Your perfect cunt squeezing the life outta my cock.”

I whimper, and he laughs, a barely-there huff against my jaw that doesn’t feel cruel, just incredulous. Like he can’t believe he’s allowed this. Like he’s afraid it won’t last, so he has to burn the memory into his body, molecule by greedy molecule.

His hand slips between us, thumb finding the spot that turns my knees to water. The world goes white-hot and fizzy around the edges. I arch into him, chasing the oblivion on the horizon, and Mason’s eyes flick up to mine, glassy and blue, pleading.

“Let go,” he whispers. “I need to feel you come, baby.Please.”

The word please—broken, urgent—undoes me. I tumble hard, my body clenching around him in frantic, helpless spasms. The sound I make is humiliating, raw and real, echoing off the slick tile.

My head thumps back but he cradles it in his palm, cushioning me, before it hits the tile. He kisses my temple, my chin, nipping at my jawline as he drags his teeth down my throat. And he never stops moving.

“Mason,” I groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters as his thrusts turn ragged and deep. And then he’s groaning my name into the hollow of my throat, teeth scraping skin as he comes.

He shudders, slamming in one last time, and I feel every frantic pulse of him inside me like thunder in a summer storm.

We stay tangled in the scalding water, both of us panting, Mason’s arms locked around me until the water started to run lukewarm.

He lets me down slow, careful as though I am spun glass, but I am already laughing—breathless, absurd, clinging to his shoulders as my feet find slick tile. My knees refused to cooperate. I try to stand and nearly buckle.

Mason catches me under the arms, tugging me to his chest with a wide, prideful grin. “Gonna have to carry you everywhere now, huh?”

“Guess you’ll have to,” I manage, voice hoarse and giddy. I wipe water from my eyes and blink up at him. His hair is flattened to his forehead, dark lashes wet.

He’s never looked more attractive in his life. And I can hardly believe he is mine.

41

MASON

I almost miss the call.

The buzz of my phone rattles against my workbench, half-buried beneath invoices. I wipe my hands on a rag and check the screen.

A dull pulse starts at the base of my skull, the starting of a headache.

“Hey, Ma,” I answer, stepping outside the garage. The air bites a little, the sky a flat, exhausted gray.

“Mason, hi, honey,” she says brightly. “I just wanted to check in and see how my favorite grandson’s doing.”

I chuckle and lean my ass against the doorframe of the barn. “What about your favorite son?”

“Oh, Cal’s good, honey,” she says, but I can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Yeah, okay. I walked into that one, I guess.”

She laughs, and the sound is as familiar as it is comfortable. “I love all my boys equally, you know that.”

“Yeah, Ma, I know. How’s it going up there?” My gaze cuts to my house, idly wondering what Abby and Theo are up to.

“You know how it is. Cal had a game last night.” She draws out the sigh, making it clear she’s about to launch into a full recap. “He played well. Two assists. The scouts were there, Mason. At least three of them. Your brother was glowing.”

I picture Cal’s face, the grin he gets when he’s proud but trying not to show it. He’s always been like that. Like if he lets on how much something matters, it’ll get snatched away.

“That’s great, Ma. Tell him I said congrats, okay?”