Page 116 of Home Grown Talent
And right then, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a black cab pulling up outside the flat.
He shoved to his feet, cramming his phone back in his pocket and raced up the steps. And when he reached the top, there was Mason.
Mason looking exhausted and dejected as the cab pulled away, only to freeze at the sight of Owen standing there, gripping the iron railing.
“Owen—” he breathed.
He looked so fragile, so uncertain and wary. His eyes were red-rimmed and smudged with traces of TV makeup, as though he’d been crying, and the shadows under them hinted at too many nights of lost sleep, but to Owen, he’d never looked more beautiful.
“I saw you on the show,” Owen said, walking slowly towards him. “I couldn’t believe it—what you said.”
Mason’s face crumpled. “I know,” he said, “I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been a selfish idiot.” He swallowed visibly, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “You must hate me.”
They were very close now. Owen reached out to touch Mason, his thumb stroking gently over one of his ridiculously gorgeous cheekbones. “Hate you?” he said shakily. “I don’t hate you, Mason. I fucking love you.”
Mason’s mouth dropped open in an expression so unexpectedly gormless that Owen couldn’t help but laugh, but it was a strangled sort of laugh, more desperate than amused.
“You—y-you said—” Mason stuttered, staring at him, wide-eyed.
Be strong.
“I love you,” Owen confirmed again. He tried to smile reassuringly, but his own throat bobbed with emotion, and his voice was hoarse as he added, “So fucking much.”
Mason didn’t try to talk again. Instead, he let out a choked sob and slammed into Owen, burying his face in Owen’s neck as Owen’s arms came around him and pulled him in close.
Kissing the top of Mason’s bent head, he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
“You—you don’t have to be—” Mason tried, but he couldn’t seem to get a full sentence out, and eventually, he gave up, settling for clutching Owen closer instead.
Owen rocked him, nuzzling his hair, glad for now just to have Mason back in his arms again.
After a minute, when Mason seemed calmer, Owen whispered, “Shall we go inside?”
Mason nodded his head against Owen’s neck, but he didn’t move right away. Eventually, though, he pulled back, straightening up to his full height to meet Owen’s gaze. His eyes were wet, and there were tear tracks on his face, but he wore a tremulous smile that filled Owen with wary, hopeful joy.
“I love you too,” he croaked. “I meant it when I said it the first time—and I still mean it.”
“I was such a dick to you,” Owen said, closing his eyes, trying to blot out the memory of their argument. “I’m sorry. You said you loved me, and I just shut you out and walked away.”
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay. I was being a fucking coward, and I hurt you and—”
“And I hurt you too,” Mason interrupted. “But that’s over now, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Owen said, reaching for him. “We’re not going to hurt each other any more.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mason
When they got inside, Owen hung back. He still looked a little uncertain, as though he was waiting for Mason to make the first move. So Mason did, stepping in close, loving the warmth of Owen’s big body and the way he smelled and how he looked at Mason. As though Mason was amazing, instead of being a fuck-up who’d just about managed to avert total disaster after a long period of being very, very stupid.
Mason’s hands were shaking with nerves as he lifted them to unzip Owen’s jacket, but it was impossible not to relax as soon as he touched Owen’s familiar body. Mason slid his hands over the solid roundness of Owen’s shoulder muscles as he pushed his jacket off, relishing his size and strength, while Owen pressed a soft kiss to Mason’s cheek. Such a shy, boyish kiss. Mason’s heart squeezed.
“Mason,” Owen murmured in his ear. “God, Mason.”
Mason turned his head, catching Owen’s lips with his own as his hands slipped up under Owen’s shirt, stroking the smooth, warm skin beneath. Owen groaned, parting his lips to give Mason access, groaning again when Mason slid his tongue inside. And that quickly, everything turned very carnal. Owen’s hands reached for the hem of Mason’s shirt, and before Mason knew where he was, Owen had whipped it off over his head and was thumbing one of his sensitive nipples, while his other hand gripped Mason’s hip and rocked against him, his sizeable, clothed prick rubbing obscenely against Mason’s.