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44

ANYA

WHEN I BLINK AWAKE, I stare around in confusion for a few moments as the world settles, and I realise where I am. Mason is beside me, lying on his stomach, his arm slung over my abdomen. His tanned skin and dark hair looks perfect among his pale sheets. Reaching out, I run my nails lightly down his back. He releases a soft groan.

‘Waking up beside you is my new favourite morning routine,’ I say.

Slowly shifting, he gazes up at me. ‘Me too, Blush.’

After spending an hour rolling around in his bed, and then in the shower, we finally manage to detangle from each other long enough to get ready. I just can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his mouth on mine, his skin on my skin, the way he moves in and out of me. I sigh blissfully as I pull my brush through my hair.

Trotting downstairs, I see Mason is already there. Two mugs of coffee sit on the bench.

‘I’m cooking eggs on toast,’ he announces.

Walking over to him, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek against his shoulder. ‘I love this,’ I whisper.

‘You love what?’

‘This,’ I say, tightening my hold on him. ‘You. Us .’

Twisting so that our lips can meet, he pecks his against mine. ‘Me too.’

Plopping down onto the seat, I wince at the pain between my legs. I lost count of how many times we ended up on top of each other over last night and this morning, but the soreness in my legs will remind me of it all day, I’m sure.

‘Have you got your results for the art assignment yet?’ Mason asks. ‘I’m assuming you have, since it got selected.’

I nod. ‘Yeah. I aced it.’

Grinning, he turns to face me. ‘I knew you would. It was awesome.’

‘Thanks. I was so nervous about it, but it all worked out, thankfully.’

‘You’re a complete natural at painting.’ Wandering over to me, he kisses my forehead. ‘I’m proud of you.’

Warmth blossoms in my chest at his praise.

The front door swings open, and Zayden enters. His hair is dishevelled, his shirt is on backwards and so crumpled it looks like it’s never been washed before. He winces when he removes his sunglasses.

‘Fuck, turn the brightness down,’ he mumbles.

‘Of the sun?’ Mason snickers, gesturing to the light filtering through the kitchen window. ‘Sure, just give me a second and I’ll get right on that.’

‘Close the blinds, motherfucker,’ he mutters.

‘No way. It’s a gorgeous day,’ Mason continues. He whistles as he flips the eggs, and Zayden clutches his head. I grin in amusement, feeling thankful that I’m not hungover like he is right now.

Zayden glares at Mason. ‘I don’t have the energy for you right now.’

‘Sit down, sweetheart, let Mason take care of you.’ He smirks, pointing his spatula to the empty seat beside me.

I love watching Mason in the kitchen. He pours fresh juice for Zayden, alongside a glass of water. Popping two pain relief tablets onto the bench, he slides them across to him with the glasses. ‘For the head,’ he says.

‘Cheers,’ Zayden thanks him, eyes closed.

‘How was the rest of your night?’ I ask.

‘I don’t really remember it. I woke up in the backyard, in the hammock.’

‘Oh my God.’ I release a snort of laughter. ‘You’re a menace, Zay.’

He rubs his face, looking exhausted. I peer at his neck.

‘Were you alone in the hammock?’

‘I think so.’

‘You have some’ – I point to my neck – ‘little love bites. Everywhere.’

Zayden groans. ‘Fuck. I don’t even remember kissing anyone.’

‘Dude.’ Mason grimaces, leaning in to survey my brother’s neck. ‘Looks like you fucked a vampire.’

‘I need to quit drinking,’ he mumbles. Using his phone camera as a mirror, he winces, running his fingers down his neck. ‘Goddamn.’ Lowering the phone, he hangs his head in his hands. ‘What did you guys do after the party?’

Mason and I exchange a glance just as Zayden looks up. He places a hand over his mouth.

‘Oh hell nah, wrong question. I’m going to be sick.’

‘I’d like to point out that the copious amount of alcohol you consumed is what’s making you sick, not us,’ Mason says.

Zayden gives him the middle finger as he rushes to the downstairs bathroom.

Shaking my head, I take a sip of my coffee, settling back in my seat.

‘There you go, my love,’ Mason murmurs, handing me my plate. ‘Breakfast is served.’

I beam up at him. ‘Thank you.’

‘Fuel up,’ he mutters darkly, leaning forward. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’ He takes a bite from the corner of my toast, pushing back from the bench.

Heat races down my neck, and a shiver of excitement rolls down my spine.

I could get used to this.