Page 35 of Hidden Resolution (Stonebrooke #2)

M ason strolled into their kitchen and, with a flourish, offered Shonda a bouquet of naked rose stems.

She lifted curious eyes from her prize. “Um…”

“For you, my darling Morticia,” he purred against her neck.

“Oh, Gomez, you shouldn’t have!”

“‘Unhappy, darling?’” he asked, parroting the character’s line.

“‘Yes, completely,’” she replied, fluttering her lashes.

“‘Cara mia.’” Lifting her arm, he rained kisses and love bites along her skin from wrist to elbow.

“‘Mon cher!’” She giggled as she swatted at him playfully. “Let go. I need to put these in water.”

He laughed.

In retrospect, her furious snipping of the rose heads amused him. Instead of releasing her, he tossed the bundle of decapitated flowers on the counter, dragged her against him, and cupped her ass.

He nuzzled her neck, smiling at her happy sigh. If anyone had told him one year ago, he’d be in a long-term commitment, he’d have called them a fucking liar. But he was, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Ever.

“I love you, Shonda Grant.” The sentiment rolled a little easier off his tongue every time he uttered it.

“And I love you, Mason Sharp.”

“Marry me,” he said, surprising them both. But the rightness wrapped him in a warm cloak. An image of their future formed in his mind, giving him the assurance he needed.

She pulled away to gaze up at him.

Her gorgeous eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them. The uncertainty in them unmistakable.

“Yes, I’m completely serious,” he said, chuckling. “I want you to make an honest man of me. Then you can sniff me any time you want. We’ll put it in our vows.”

Laughing, she punched his chest. “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s a yes?”

“Yes. A million times, yes.”

He bent, prepared to seal the deal with a kiss, but a squeal behind him nearly shot Mason out of his skin. Eight months after the shooting, and he was still jumpy. He was embraced from behind, and for a brief second, he feared another attack.

“I knew it!” Erica cried her delight against his back. “We were in bed the other night, and I told Zack you were going to propose.”

Mason whirled to see his brother enter, chagrin mixed with merriment on his stupid face.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry, bro,” Zack laughed. “She’s on a lemon-donut sugar high.”

“I’m more concerned that your wife thinks of me while she’s in bed with you. You’ve got a serious problem.”

Zack’s expression went from amused to thundercloud, darkening more when Erica not-so-subtly sniffed him.

“Did you just sniff me?” Mason asked, incredulous.

“Uh, no!” Erica denied hotly.

But she had, and not only did they both know it, her husband and Mason’s brand new fiancée also knew it.

Embarrassment pinked Erica’s cheeks, giving lie to her answer.

“Okay, yes,” she admitted. “But can I help it if?—”

Zack clamped a hand over her mouth and ushered his very pregnant wife toward the door.

“What did I say about incriminating yourself, sweetheart?” Zack asked, admonishing her with a twinkle in his eye.

“You need my brand of cologne, bro?” Mason called to his retreating back.

“It’s pure Eau de Mason,” Shonda laughingly added.

He gazed down into her glowing face.

A bottomless pool of love was reflected in her eyes.

“I’m the luckiest sonofabitch in the world,” he told her.

“Yes, you are, and I have a surprise for you.” Shonda smiled coyly as she unfastened the first button of his shirt. Her knuckles brushed his abs, causing them to contract as she shifted lower and unbuttoned his jeans. Within a minute, they were both divested of clothes, and his mouth was on hers.

Giggling, she drew back. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Yes, and no.” He dove back for another taste, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“My dad chartered a private jet for us to St. Thomas. He intends for us to enjoy a vacation without any worries this time.” Shonda kissed along Mason’s jaw, cupping his length with both hands. “You can initiate me into the Mile-High Club.”

His brain was slow to process, distracted by her steady strokes.

For the longest minute, he stared, unable to comprehend.

Then he caught up.

“Hell, yes!” He lifted her onto the granite countertop and captured her mouth with unerring accuracy. Mason had never tasted anything as sweet as Shonda, and he never would.