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KAI

M y lips crushed against Mason’s as my body crashed into his. He made an ‘ oof ’ of surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands went to my shoulders, and he pulled me closer. He nipped at my lower lip, and I hummed in response.

I didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to stop. I had this need inside me that had been growing for days, and Mason was the only person who could scratch that itch.

Of course, Mason was also so infuriating I kind of wanted to punch him too, but it was hard to remember that when he was scrambling back on the couch, tugging me forward until I was straddling him. It was probably a red flag that I found this emotional whiplash so arousing, but brain chemistry was a lawless thing.

His tongue swirled into my mouth, strong and commanding. I felt his fingers at my throat, tugging my tie loose. Once it was off, he fumbled with the buttons of my shirt until he’d exposed my neck and collarbone.

His lips slid onto my neck, nipping and sucking. My fingers dug into his shoulders. I couldn’t believe he was kissing me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him.

Mason growled as my fingers dug in, and his hands slid to grab my hips. I shifted and realized with astonishment that Mason was hard. I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. Was it possible that he wanted this as badly as I did? That the kiss at the Butterfly Center hadn’t only happened because he was angry?

To be fair, he was pissed now, too. But while I was maybe willing to believe kissing someone could be an anger response, I definitely didn’t think pulling them onto your lap so they can feel your rock hard cock was one.

I mean, unless that was a thing now. ' Assaulted by someone's aggressively sincere boner ' was not how I'd pictured my night ending, but hey, new experiences and all that.

I ground against his lap, and he pulled his lips free of my neck, his blue eyes hazy, pupils blown wide with desire. I moved my hips again, sliding over his cock. His mouth opened with a sharp little inhale. We stared at each other, frozen for a moment, until he leaned in again, his lips hitting mine once more.

His right hand slid onto my lap and he palmed my cock. I moaned in pleasure, a tremor running through my body. He squeezed me gently, and I was so turned on, I just about came right there. But thank god I didn’t, because it only got better.

Mason lay back on the couch and pulled me on top of him. Then he rotated so I was pressed against the back of the couch, and his hand slid in to undo my fly. I moaned again as his fingertips slipped under my briefs and pulled my cock free. Fuck, it felt good to have another man touch me. It had been too long.

And it wasn’t just another man . It was Mason. Mason, who infuriated me as much as he turned me on. My high-school bully was jerking me off, his teeth nipping at my earlobe, and all I could think was, I wish teenage me could see us now .

I stroked his cock through his jeans, and Mason hummed into the kiss. I pulled back for a moment, my hand on his fly, a silent question in my eyes. He nodded, and I unzipped him, then slid my hand under his boxers.

I gasped when I reached his cock. It was even bigger than I’d realized, feeling it with my leg. No wonder he’d been such a conceited asshole in high school. With a dick this big, I would have been too. And I wasn’t even that small, but compared to Mason…

What I wouldn’t give for him to fucking rail me. To fuck me so deep he reaches my stomach .

I tugged him free of his boxers and licked my lips when I saw him for the first time. Mason Fucking Clark was in my house, on my couch, letting me touch his cock. And stroking mine in return. How was this even possible?

A bead of precum leaked from his tip, and I swiped my finger across it. His breath caught, and his eyes locked on mine as I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked it clean. A deep groan escaped him.

I spat on my hand, getting it as wet as possible, then shifted until my cock was next to his. I began to stroke us together, and his mouth went back to my neck. I was going to be covered in hickeys tomorrow and I didn’t even care. What did god make collared shirts for, if not to hide all evidence of your straight bodyguard marking you with his teeth?

I stroked our shafts together, and Mason’s finger teased the tips. His touch was so light, so tantalizing, I thought I might burst. Heat and tension built inside me.

I gasped as he kissed my mouth again, his teeth sinking down on my lower lip. He groaned, and my hand moved faster. I thrust my hips, sliding my cock along his length.

“Fuck, Kai, fuck,” was all the warning I had before he came, shooting into my hand and onto the bottom of my shirt.

I didn’t even care. I’d gotten Mason off. He’d come because of me . He was panting, chest heaving, lips against my jaw—all because of me.

And when he tilted his head back, eyes closed, neck exposed, my own orgasm came faster than I was ready for. He looked so vulnerable, so blissed out, and it was my doing. I came, my eyes glued to him.

It was messy—my hand was already slick with his cum and now it was coated in my own too. I gasped for breath, my hand stroking a few more times, milking out every drop. Then my head fell forward, resting on his shoulder, and the two of us were still for a moment.

But only for a moment. Because no sooner had I gotten comfortable, and started thinking I could lie like this forever, than Mason took a deep breath and whispered, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” I said, my eyes still closed. “That about covers it.”

“No. I didn’t mean—shit. What the fuck?”

My eyes snapped open at the edge in his voice. He pushed up to a seat, and I had to do the same thing or be crushed by him. I watched in confusion as he stood, tucking himself away and pulling himself together. His eyes were wide, and he shook his head frantically.

“What did I just do?” He backed away from the couch.

I was starting to get annoyed.

“You came,” I said flatly. “You let me jerk us off, together, and you came. And you seemed pretty into it at the time. Hell, you’re the one who started all of this.”

“ You kissed me ,” he said, and I heard the echo of my own objection at the Butterfly Center. I must have sounded ridiculous then, because Mason sure did now.

“Don’t be childish,” I told him. “We’re both to blame, if you want to blame someone about this. But you really don’t have to—”

“I need to go.” Mason shook himself, then made a beeline for the door.

I stood up after him, awkwardly pulling my pants up as I did. Bella followed Mason to the door, clearly wondering where her favorite person was going.

“Mason, there’s no need to freak out.” I stared at him, confused, but more than that, tired. Was he really going to have a whole ‘ I’m not gay ’ panic after everything we’d been through? Apparently, the answer was yes.

“I’m not freaking out,” he objected, pulling the front door open. “I just—I have to go.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there, wondering what the hell had happened.

I tried not to think about hooking up with Mason for the rest of the evening. It was late, and I had another long day tomorrow. I should’ve gone to bed.

But I couldn’t stop seeing him in my head—his nostrils flaring, his eyes thick with lust, the way he nodded at me to touch him. Mason tugging me into his lap, growling when I ground against him. The sound of his voice, broken and needy, whispering my name.

Fuck, Kai, fuck.

The memory was sweet, but tinged with something bitter. I yanked at the feeling, trying to uproot it. I wasn’t going to be sad about how Mason had reacted. I didn’t even like the man. It was fine that he was gone. Totally fine.

Still, the house felt empty without him. It had only been a few days since he barged into my life, but already everything seemed quieter, duller. Even Bella looked depressed—but then, she would.

With a sigh, I headed upstairs for bed. But sleep didn’t come easily.

The next morning, I woke to someone pounding on the front door. I sat up with a jolt, heart racing. Bella wasn’t barking—she was wagging her tail, her tongue lolling out like she thought a treat was coming. So much for my guard dog.

Groggy, I shuffled over to the window. My bedroom faced the street, and when I peered down, I almost dropped the curtain. Mason was standing on my front steps with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“What the hell?” I said as I opened the door a minute later, still in my pajamas. It was early—he’d gotten here before my alarm had even gone off. “I thought you left.”

Mason strode in without hesitation and tossed his bag onto the couch. It landed right in the spot where we’d been tangled up yesterday, and I almost flinched. It felt surreal—like that moment had been a dream.

“I did,” he said. “But that was a mistake. I realized that overnight. So I grabbed some more stuff. Now I’m set for the next couple of weeks.”

“Couple of weeks?” I repeated, dismayed.

“Or however long it takes until you’re safe.” He gave me a look. “Please don’t start with the ‘ it’s not that serious ’ thing again. It’s getting a little old.”

He swept his gaze around the living room, scanning it like he expected intruders to leap out from behind my throw pillows. Then he added, “Last night was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t supposed to care what he thought. But maybe it had been a mistake for him. Maybe he’d needed to blow off steam, and then come to his senses. I didn’t know. I couldn’t read him.

My voice came out smaller than I intended. “And when you kissed me at the center?”

“That was a mistake too,” he said flatly. “But I’m not going to let my personal feelings get in the way of your safety.”

It felt like a slap. The only reason his feelings would be a problem was if they were negative. Not that I should be surprised—he’d never gone out of his way to be nice. Everything was about doing the right thing. Duty. Responsibility. If he liked me, I doubted he’d phrase it that way.

I opened my mouth to tell him I’d call the other security service back, but I was too tired. And hurt. So I stayed quiet, watching him bend down to pet Bella. He looked up at me, saw I wasn’t arguing, and took that as agreement.

“Good,” he said. “Now, what time do you usually get to the office?”

“Around eight,” I said, still wondering if this was actually happening.

He checked the clock. “That gives me some time to make breakfast. Go take a shower or whatever you do in the mornings. I’ll have something ready when you come down.”

“I don’t usually eat breakfast at home,” I said. “I just grab something at the office.”

“Today you’ll eat here. How do you like your eggs?”

“Um. Scrambled? I guess?”

“I can do that,” he said briskly. “Now, go.”

He was giving me orders in my own home. I wanted to protest—but I did need to shower, and standing there glaring at him wasn’t going to change anything. Besides, there was a nonzero chance he’d physically carry me upstairs if I argued. So I went through my usual routine, and when I came back down, adjusting my tie, Mason pointed me to the island and served up scrambled eggs with cheese and herbs, plus toast and a glass of orange juice.

I didn’t even like orange juice that much, but I drank it. I didn’t have the energy to argue, and he was right—arguing was getting exhausting.

The rest of the day was equally as weird. Mason told me to act like everything was normal, but it was hard to do that when a tall, scowling shadow hovered five feet behind me. He made me keep the blinds closed in my office, dragged a chair over to sit by the door again, and refused to let me go out for lunch. I had to order in, and he insisted on picking it up from the front desk himself.

I waited until he left the office to finally go to the bathroom—mostly because I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me in there. I wasn’t about to risk exposing my dick to the man I’d hooked up with twelve hours earlier. Who knew how he’d react?

I was only gone a couple of minutes, but when I got back, he asked where I’d been, then scolded me like I was a reckless teenager.

“Since when is emptying my bladder an unnecessary risk?” I snapped. “Would you prefer I piss myself at my desk?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with an eye roll. “Next time, tell me first. I’ll clear the bathroom, then stand outside while you go.”

I stared at him, stunned. It was like being seven again and getting scolded by my mother—except my mother had never threatened to personally sweep the bathroom for assassins before letting me pee, so congratulations to Mason for unlocking a new level of insanity.

I did my best to give Mason the cold shoulder for the rest of the afternoon, but I wasn’t sure he even noticed. He acted exactly the same as he had that night in the Safeway parking lot, or at the theater. His whole body was tense, like he was stuck in high-alert mode, but in this weird, detached way. It was like he didn’t even see me.

Or if he did, he didn’t see me as a person—just some fragile package he had to guard and deliver. He scanned every hallway, watched every doorway, barked orders instead of talking like a normal human being.

Like a drill sergeant, I thought—and then realized that made sense. He’d been in the military. The Marines, not the Army, as he’d made sure to correct me.

I didn’t know much about military life, but weren’t the Marines supposed to be the hardcore ones? The boot-camp-from-hell types? It figured Mason would go for that.

Still, I didn’t understand why he clammed up whenever it came up. Don’t people join because they were proud to serve? Mason had said he’d done it for the money, but it was more than that. He didn’t seem reluctant—he seemed ashamed. And I couldn’t figure out why.

The rigid, rule-following vibe carried straight into the evening. He wouldn’t let me take Bella for her afternoon walk—he insisted on doing it himself. He said no to another trip to the store. And when I told him I needed to pick up my PrEP prescription, he offered to go get it for me.

“I’ll pick it up,” he said. “Just give me your ID.”

I stared at him. “You want to pick up my PrEP?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Because it’s the unprotected gay sex drug?” I said, smirking.

His eyes went wide, and he stiffened like I’d slapped him. Then he shook his head, lips pressed tight. “You probably shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Excuse me, but my sex life is none of your fucking business.”

“It is if it means you’re not safe.”

“That’s literally what PrEP is for,” I said. “Well, for HIV anyway.”

“I don’t care about how you have sex, I care about you having it at all. You can’t seriously think it’s safe to be meeting strange men right now. One of them could be your stalker.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s homophobic as hell to assume I’d only be meeting ‘ strange men ,’ and also homophobic to think there’s something wrong with that if I were. And I’ll say it again, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

The truth was, I hadn’t hooked up with anyone in ages. And I always used condoms. PrEP didn’t protect against most STIs. But I wasn’t going to explain myself. Not to him.

“Maybe it isn’t,” he said, “but I still think I should be the one to pick it up.”

I was starting to feel like a prisoner in my own home. Normally, I would’ve spent the evening catching up on work in my office. But with Mason around, I couldn’t focus. I was hyper-aware of his movements, even when he was downstairs making dinner.

And dinner was…awkward. Worse than breakfast. He actually came upstairs to ask if I liked fish and how I felt about spinach. I realized I didn’t have feelings about spinach. I barely ate it. And I wasn’t a big fish person either—but I didn’t tell him that. If I had, he would’ve asked what I did like, and made that instead, and the whole act of kindness would’ve pissed me off even more.

Of course, when I got downstairs, the whole house smelled incredible. Mason had made a dill-buttered salmon filet so perfectly cooked I had to stop myself from moaning aloud.

New rule: no moaning within Mason’s hearing. Not even about food.

Still, I did break and tell him, “The spinach risotto is really good.”

He didn’t even have the decency to look smug or snobbish. He just said, “Thanks,” and then, “How have you usually had spinach prepared?”

I winced. “I guess I haven’t, really? If I’m honest, I don’t eat a ton of the leafy green stuff.”

He frowned. “I’m starting to worry about your diet. What do you eat? Your fridge was completely empty when I got here, except for some leftovers that were about to grow legs.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I usually get takeout. I’m not much of a cook.”

“I gathered,” he said, tapping his fork against his lips.

Don’t look at his lips. Don’t remember how they felt on yours, soft and strong. Don’t wonder if they’d taste like butter if you kissed them now.

“I wonder if you’re getting enough vegetables,” he continued. “You might be missing some critical nutrients. I could pick up a multivitamin for you tomorrow.”

I wanted to scream.

“And what do vitamins have to do with keeping me safe from this stalker?” I asked, smiling as sweetly as I could manage. If I still looked like I wanted to kill him, well, that was his problem.

“Nothing. But I could still get them, while I’m here.”

“Thanks. But I’ll pass.”

I’d probably end up deficient in Vitamin D, the way he had me on house arrest, but I wasn’t going to give him more ammunition.

“About earlier,” he said. “I’m not trying to get mixed up in your love life.”

“Too late.”

“But I think it would be best if you didn’t go out to meet anyone—or have anyone over—until this is over.”

“Are you grounding me?” I asked, incredulous.

“Huh?”

He didn’t even realize what he was doing. That was the worst part. If he had been enjoying it, I would’ve yelled, started a fight, maybe even—

What? Seen what happened after the fight?

I shook my head and changed the subject. “I have a group of investors coming over for a cocktail party in a week.”

I’d planned the event to help create an endowment for the Butterfly Center—something stable, so we wouldn’t always be scrambling for grants. Carolyn had insisted it would help if I played host. ‘ Make them feel important ,’ she’d said. ‘ Let them feel like they’ve been invited into the inner sanctum. That kind of ego boost goes a long way .’

Mason grunted. “Have they been vetted?”

“I’ve known some of them for years,” I said. “The newer ones are friends of the older ones. No one is coming to this party to kill me.”

“That’s what you think. But you can’t know that for sure.”

“Too bad. I’m doing it anyway. My house, my rules. Take it or leave it.”

I felt oddly proud of myself for saying that, even if I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to leave or not.

“Give me their names ahead of time,” he said. “I’ll have Dana run background checks.”

He was so high-handed. Like he assumed I’d do whatever he said, just because he said it. And okay, maybe background checks weren’t totally unreasonable—if anyone else had suggested them, I might’ve agreed. But since it was Mason, it made me want to say no out of pure spite.

By the time we’d cleaned up after dinner, with Mason instructing me yet again on how to properly load a dishwasher, I was about to explode. I needed space. Time. Air.

So I set my alarm for painfully early the next morning. It was a Saturday—maybe he’d sleep in. But I wasn’t counting on it.

It was still dark outside when I got out of bed and changed into my running clothes. I was buzzing with nervous energy and needed to get it out somewhere away from Mason. A long run would help. Too long for Bella, though—she could handle five miles, maybe six, but I was aiming for ten.

I tiptoed through the living room, making sure not to wake him from where he slept on the couch. Stupid man. He should have been upstairs in the guest room, but he was obsessed with guarding the door.

Well, he could keep other people out, but he wasn’t going to keep me in . I slipped out the front door with a smile, my feet hitting the pavement in long strides.