Page 25 of Home Grown Talent

“Why not?”

“Uh, because it’s cold and dark outside, and, to be honest, I think you’re still a bit pissed. In fact, why don’t you get ready for bed while I dig out some painkillers for you?”

Mason scowled, annoyed by Owen’s recalcitrance. “I don’t need painkillers.”

Owen smiled, and it was an indulgent sort of smile, like he thought Mason was cute or something. “Trust me,” he insisted in a tone that was somehow gentle yet brooked no argument. Bossy, but in a way that made Mason feel cared for, even as it triggered a little thrum of excitement in the pit of Mason’s belly. “You’ll be glad you took them in the morning.”

Still, Mason hesitated, but there was something about Owen’s gentle bossiness that was difficult to defy. Reluctantly, he made his way along the hall to his bedroom at the front of the flat. It was a large room, painted white like the rest of the place, with a bay window overlooking the tiny, empty courtyard at the bottom of the steps. In the dark, lights from the cars passing on the busy road outside flashed through the window, sending weird shadows dancing across the walls.

Mason sat down on the side of his bed and switched on his bedside lamp. He felt cold, suddenly. And alone. He wanted desperately for Owen to stay. Partly that was because he was horny, but it wasn’t just that. He wanted more of that cosseting and care.

Fuck. He rubbed his face. He must still be pissed—he usually ran a mile from any sign of emotional neediness, either in himself or his lovers.

Sitting up straighter, he mentally shook himself, shoving the emotional bullshit to one side and focusing on the other part of Owen’s appeal. The fun part that would involve them getting naked in bed together. And okay, that was probably a bad idea too, but Mason really did feel horny, and actually, it would probably help on the Weekend Wellness front. After all, Misty had made it clear that Mason’s chemistry with Owen was key to her whole gardening idea—and what was this if not chemistry?

He’d be an idiot not to use it to his advantage.

He was still sitting on the bed when Owen appeared in the doorway, holding Mason’s water glass and a packet of ibuprofen. His expression was a little curious, a little cautious as his gaze flicked around the bedroom.

Mason rose. “Thanks,” he said, moving to take the glass and pills from Owen and carrying them over to his bedside table. “You’re very kind, you know? To do all this for someone you hardly know.”

“Well,” Owen said with a self-deprecating laugh, “Lewis always says I love playing the knight in shining armour.”

“Yeah? What does that make me then? The damsel in distress?” From across the room, he gazed into Owen’s warm, expressive eyes and noted the spark there. The interest. It wouldn’t take much to fan that spark into a flame, if he wanted.

And to hell with it—he wanted.

Tossing his hair back, he walked towards Owen with a hint of catwalk strut. Owen’s eyes widened, his gaze darting down over Mason’s body and back up to his face as Mason stopped in front of him, biting lightly at his lower lip and looking up through his lashes.

He could practically hear a camera click and whirr.

“Could you help me?” he said softly, making a half-hearted attempt at undoing the buttons on one cuff. “These are so fiddly.”

It was blatant, but it always worked.

After a moment, Owen released a controlled breath and said, “Okay. Let me see.”

Mason lifted his arm, presenting Owen with his wrist, watching as his big, surprisingly nimble fingers undid the tiny buttons, one by one. “There,” Owen said huskily, as the cuff fell open. “Other one?”

Mason silently complied, lifting his other cuff for Owen to unbutton. Then Mason pouted and gestured to the rest of the buttons on his shirt, raising his eyes to Owen’s in a mute plea for assistance.

Owen pressed his lips together, a hint of amusement in his expression now. “All right,” he said, and Mason loved the note of soft indulgence in his tone.

Carefully, he started to unbutton the shirt. This close, Mason could smell notes of cardamom, sandalwood, and vetiver on Owen’s skin, warm and masculine and a little intoxicating. “Tom Ford, Oud Wood?”

Owen glanced up. “What?”

“Are you wearing Oud Wood cologne?”

“Uh, maybe?” He smiled self-consciously. “It’s something Lewis got me last Christmas. I can’t remember what it’s called.”

Mason smiled. “It suits you,” he said, leaning in so that his bare chest brushed Owen’s fingers where they were working on his buttons. He inhaled deeply. “Very manly and outdoorsy.”

“Uh, these are dog roses,” Owen blurted, staring down at the fabric of Mason’s shirt. “And lilies. On your shirt, I mean.”

Mason looked down. “Are they?”

“Tulips, too. It’s a nice pattern.”