Page 22

22

KAI

I stared at Detective Myers standing in the doorway, completely confused.

“What are you doing here?”

He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

I shook my head, still not quite making sense of what I was seeing. “Well, you’re pointing a gun at me, but I can’t figure out why, unless—” I broke off, my eyes going even wider—if that was possible. “Wait a second, are you the person who’s been trying to kill me?”

“Nice to see you finally put that together,” Myers said sarcastically. “I was getting worried about you.”

I knew I should feel scared. And I did. The man was pointing a gun at me, after all. But his words also annoyed the hell out of me.

“Don’t act like you wanted me to figure it out,” I said indignantly. “You were covering your tracks and you know it. You don’t get to do that and then make fun of me when it works.”

Ridiculous objection. Ridiculous to object at all. The guy had a gun. My heart was pounding, my mouth dry. But weeks of living with Mason had made me braver—and left me with significantly less control over my tongue.

Probably not a good thing under the circumstances.

“Yeah, well, I’m done with that now,” Myers said. “Now get up.”

“But why?” I asked, still stuck on that basic question.

“Because you’re gonna walk downstairs and hang yourself.”

“Not that,” I said quickly. “I mean, why do you want to kill me in the first place?”

Definitely a stupid question. I should have been concentrating on finding a way out of this—preferably one that didn’t involve swinging from the end of a rope. My stomach dropped through the floor at the thought. But I couldn’t shake the need to know. If Myers was going to kill me, I wanted to know why .

“Killing you is ancillary,” he said. “That fucking center is what really needs to die.”

“What do you have against it?”

“Oh no. We’re not doing this. I’m not giving a big, long speech so you have time to think of an escape,” he said, waving the gun at me. “Now get up.”

I didn’t move, but my mind was racing, fitting pieces together. I risked a guess. “Does it have something to do with your daughter?”

Myers’s face contorted with rage. Literally contorted. One second he was calm, and the next, his cheeks went red, his eyebrows drew down, his nostrils flared, and his lips twisted into a rictus snarl. He looked like a cartoon villain. I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t been so terrified.

“I don’t have a daughter,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I have two sons—and one of them has been perverted by people like you. You made him sick—and you make me sick. That center is a cancer, and I’m not going to let it open. Now get up.”

He cocked the gun, and my heart stopped for a second in terror. For a split second, I thought it was the sound of a bullet firing. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever heard a real gunshot before. I’d definitely never seen a gun used . I froze.

“Do you need me to make you walk?” he said, stalking into the room. “I’ll drag you if I need to.”

“No, no, I can—I’ll do it,” I stammered. I didn’t know why, but the thought of him touching me was somehow as terrifying as the gun itself.

I pushed the covers back slowly and stood up, moving carefully. No sudden movements. I didn’t want to startle him. I had to find a way out of this, and the longer I could drag things out, the better chance I had of thinking of something.

Bella, who’d been watching me talk with Myers with maddening placidity, hopped down from the bed and moved to my side. If she realized how upset I was, she didn’t show it.

If only Mason were here. But he wasn’t. He was sitting in the ER at George Washington, still waiting on doctors. I glanced longingly back at my phone where it lay on the bed.

“Can I just text—” I started, but Myers barked a harsh, “No!” before I even finished the sentence.

So I wasn’t going to get to say goodbye. If Myers had his way, Mason would come home later and find my body. That thought made me want to weep. Not because I was going to die, but because Mason would be the one to find me.

“You really don’t need to do this,” I said, meeting Myers by the door. He aimed a kick at Bella, and she danced back, but her big brown eyes looked confused, not angry. Poor girl. “The center is on hold for the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to believe that,” he said. He put one hand on my shoulder and pressed the gun to the small of my back. “You told me that was fake at the hospital.”

“It was, then,” I said. “But ever since that video came out, they’ve cut ties with me. Financially too. And they don’t have any other backers lined up. They can’t finish construction.”

“They’ll find something,” he said, pushing me out into the hall. He guided me to the top of the stairs. Bella followed a few feet behind. “People like that always do.”

“People like what?” I asked, unable to stop myself from bristling. Stupid. The goal was to keep him calm, not provoke him. But I couldn’t help myself.

If Mason were here, he’d tell me I was an idiot. But if Mason were here, none of this would be happening. Myers wouldn’t have been able to control both of us with just one gun. And if Mason had been alone, he would’ve found a way to stop him—some military tactic, some feint or rush to disarm.

But I wasn’t Mason. And now, I’d never get to say goodbye. Never get to thank him for everything he’d done. Never get to tell him I loved him.

The thought hit my chest like a stone.

“Perverts,” Myers sneered, forcing me down the stairs. “Trying to convert kids to be like you. Shoving your filth in everyone’s face. It’s disgusting, and it needs to stop.”

There it is , I thought wryly as I descended the steps. I knew someone would accuse me of grooming sooner or later.

“Your daughter is twenty-one years old. She can make her own decisions.”

“He’s my son ,” Myers snapped. “And he’d never have made this one if he hadn’t been led there. You filled him with your propaganda. And you’re not stopping with him. You’re going to let more kids come to your center. Give them operations.”

“We give them haircuts,” I said, exasperated despite the fear crawling under my skin. “We don’t have fucking surgeons on staff. And most kids who show up come with their family’s support, or at least permission. If they’re under sixteen, they need it.” I stopped on the landing and risked a glance over my shoulder. “Having your family’s support makes a huge difference in the mental health of all queer teens, not just trans ones. Maybe you and your daughter could—”

“Just shut your mouth and walk.” He shoved the gun more firmly against my back.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I said, continuing down. “But I still don’t see what killing me is going to accomplish if you think the board is going to find new funding.”

“That’s why I have to kill you,” Myers said. “If you kill yourself in shame because of that video, it’ll tarnish the center’s reputation. No one will want to be connected with it then.”

Personally, I thought his logic was a little iffy. Wouldn’t me killing myself underscore the whole point of how LGBTQ+ people faced extreme societal pressure and needed more support? But my brain latched onto something else he’d said.

“How did you find that video?” We’d reached the bottom of the stairs now, and he shoved me towards the kitchen. “I thought it was scrubbed from the internet.”

“The part of it you can see, maybe. I’ve got a friend at the FBI who works cybercrimes. They can search every part of the internet, even the dark web, for your face.” He let out a laugh—a sharp, unpleasant sound. “I didn’t even expect to find anything. Thought I’d have to pay someone to make a fake video with your face on it. But he struck gold. Now grab that rope.”

I saw a smooth nylon rope, about an inch thick, coiled on the kitchen island. I drew back like it was a snake, which only pushed me harder into Myers’s gun.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said quickly. “If you could pay someone to make a video of me, you could do it to someone else on the board. Plant evidence, fake crimes—anything. You don’t have to resort to murder. That only makes things harder for you.”

“And leave you alive to tell everyone what you know? I don’t think so.”

“People are going to find out anyway. My security cameras had to have seen you come in.” I paused. “Wait, how did you get in?”

“The same way I bypassed your alarms. I called the company two days ago and told them to shut everything down for a few days while we laid a trap for your stalker. They’d already given me access to your account to review footage from last week. It’s not that hard to impression a key from a blank, if you’ve got enough time. And since your cameras were conveniently turned off, I had all the time in the world to do that last night—even with you blundering downstairs in the middle of it.”

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered. “I thought I heard something. But there was no one there when I checked.”

He’d been right outside the house when I’d looked. And he’d still been there when Mason and I had fucked in the kitchen. He might even have still been there when we’d gone back upstairs and fallen asleep wrapped around each other. But I hadn’t seen him.

“You took so long opening the door, you gave me plenty of time to hide.” Myers jammed the gun harder into my back. “I told you to grab that rope.”

Even if he didn’t shoot me, I was going to have a bruise there later. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Did bruises still form after you were dead? I really should’ve watched more CSI .

I reached for the rope with a trembling hand. I was out of questions, out of stalling tactics, and I still hadn’t come up with an escape plan. I really was going to die.

“Now tie it into a noose,” he ordered.

“I…I don’t know how,” I said, my voice shaking. It wasn’t a lie. I’d never liked violent imagery, never seen a noose up close. I always looked away during scenes like that in movies.

He made another disgusted growl. He sounded like a bullfrog with bronchitis. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not,” I said, trying to sound a little more confident. “I really don’t know how. Can you do it?”

“And let you run out of here?” Myers said. “Not happening.”

It had been worth a shot.

“Turn around,” he barked. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

I turned slowly, holding the rope in both hands. His instructions were confusing enough that I didn’t even have to fake being slow—I genuinely didn’t get it at first. But there was only so much fumbling I could do before I got it right.

He pointed towards the dining room. “Shove the table out of the way. Then loop the rope over the chandelier.”

My heart was pounding, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as I followed orders. All the while, my mind spun in frantic circles. Should I run for it? He’d probably shoot me, but maybe that would look more suspicious than a staged suicide.

Back door? No, he’d expect that. If I rushed him, maybe I could knock him over and bolt for the front. I’d followed every instruction so far, so he wouldn’t expect a sudden attack. Maybe I could even get the gun from him.

But he was standing halfway across the room now. That was too much space. Too much time for him to react, recover, and shoot me before I reached the door.

“Now put a chair underneath the chandelier and climb up on it,” Myers said.

“They’re still going to think my death is suspicious,” I said, my voice high and thin with fear. “Even if you make it look like suicide. The security company is going to notice that I died while the cameras were off. And you’re the one on record as asking them to do that. Or your friend at the FBI. If he sees that I’m dead, he’ll recognize the name and know something’s wrong.”

“He doesn’t give a shit,” Myers said. “I told him you were a suspect in a murder. And the company can think whatever they want—there won’t be any proof. Now get up on that chair.”

I looked down at Bella, still watching me with her big sweet eyes. She was keeping away from Myers now, not wanting to get kicked again. But she didn’t show a hint of aggression. I swallowed and thought about Mason.

Mason, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. Just know this isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. And know that I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.

I took a slow step back towards the chair—and the front door swung open as Mason burst inside.

Myers spun around and shot his gun. I dropped the rope and ran forward, terrified Mason had been hit. I grabbed for the gun in Myers’s right hand, and he turned and punched me hard in the face. My vision exploded into stars and blackness, and I fell to the floor, breath leaving my lungs.

“You piece of fucking shit,” Myers raged. It took me a second to realize he was talking to Mason. “You’re supposed to be out of the house.”

“I was,” Mason said, his voice grim and steady. “Until I realized that phone call tonight was a fake.”

Why did he sound so calm? Why wasn’t he trying to wrestle the gun away?

I pressed a hand to my face and forced my eyes open. My vision swam, but I could make out Mason advancing, slow and deliberate, across the living room.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Myers threatened.

“No, you won’t,” Mason said. “That’s your service firearm. It would be tracked back to you.”

“I’ll say you went crazy,” Myers spat. “That one of you grabbed it and shot the other, then himself.”

“That still won’t take care of the fact that the tracker in your shoe proves you were here the night I was attacked and again tonight. That’s way too suspicious.”

“What tracker?” Myers snapped as I struggled to my feet.

“The one I stuck in the sole of your shoe,” Mason said, his voice hard. “The night you and your friends beat me on the front steps. The one that sat in the police station all week—until it started moving again tonight.”

“It’s not proof,” Myers sneered. “Circumstantial at best.”

“True,” Mason said, calm as ever. “Which is why I’ve been recording this whole conversation, and sending it directly to a friend.”

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized Mason’s phone was in his hand, held out at arm’s length. Myers noticed it at the same time I did, and three things happened at the same time.

Myers launched himself at Mason. I launched myself at Myers. And Bella—sweet, gentle Bella—snarled viciously and launched herself at both of us. Another shot rang out as I knocked Myers to the floor. The gun flew from his hand and skidded to the far side of the dining room. And Myers screamed as Bella’s teeth clamped onto his neck.

Mason rushed over, putting his left hand on Myers’s back, pressing him down. He moved his right hand, sling be damned, to my shoulder, and peered into my eyes. His face was drawn tight with worry as he knelt beside me.

“Did he hurt you? Are you alright?”

“No. I mean—yes. He didn’t hurt me. Only that one punch. He didn’t do anything else. I’m more worried about Bella than I am about me.”

Mason frowned at the side of my face, then gave a small nod. “You’re gonna have a shiner for sure. But if that’s all he did, you’ll be alright.”

I laughed weakly. “We’ll match.”

“I guess we will.” He smiled, then nudged me out of the way so he could pin Myers down with a knee. The man was still thrashing and whining in pain.

“That’s alright, girl,” Mason said, rubbing Bella’s back. “You did a good job. You can let go now.”

Bella looked up at him suspiciously, but finally let go and backed away. I gave her a hug. She might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’d come through when it had counted.

“Good girl,” I said, holding her tight. “Good, good girl.”

Mason pressed his phone into my hands. “Can you call 911?”

I nodded, took a shaky breath, and dialed.

It was a long night.

It took the cops forever to get there, but thank god, Mason really had recorded everything. Amir had been on the other end, and he’d uploaded the whole thing to social media. Totally insane move—but it meant there was no way to suppress the evidence.

Even luckier, Officer Branscombe had been reviewing the same security footage Myers had ‘ checked ’ earlier, and she’d noticed there were big gaps, like something had been erased. Right around the time of Mason’s attack.

She hadn’t been able to reach Myers, but she figured he’d have said something if the footage was already like that. Which meant it had probably been tampered with. Either after he viewed it—or during. Between the gaps in the footage and the livestream, it was enough to arrest Myers on the spot.

Then came the endless parade of people. Crime scene techs dusted for fingerprints on everything—the gun, the rope, the doorknobs. Mason and I gave our statements. We would still have to go to the station the next day. We were checked by EMTs. Dana even sent over a lawyer.

It wasn’t until three a.m. that we finally had the house to ourselves again. The moment the door closed behind Detective Branscombe, Mason turned and swept me into his arms—he’d taken the sling off when he’d taken control of Myers, and never put it back on.

“Thank god you’re okay,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of my head.

I pressed my face into the crook of his neck and held him so tightly he actually grunted. I eased up, remembering his ribs, but didn’t let go.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” I whispered. “I thought he was going to kill me and I’d never have the chance to say—”

“Hey. Don’t think like that.” Mason cut me off gently, kissing my temple. “It didn’t happen. You’re okay. We’re both okay.”

“I know,” I said fiercely. “I know that, but Mason, it made me realize there are things I never—”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he said softly. “I promise. We can do whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you’re not listening.” I pulled back to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to do anything. But there’s something I need to tell you.”

His face shifted from concerned to cautious in an instant. I reached up to smooth the tension from his brow.

“A good thing,” I added quickly. “Or—I think it’s good. God, I guess it’s possible it’s not, and then I’ll never see you again because you’ll run so far away—”

“Kai, please just tell me and put me out of my misery,” Mason said. “Are you…are you ending things between us?”

“No, dummy. I’m trying to tell you I love you.”

His mouth dropped open. It was extremely satisfying.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” I held his gaze. “And I’ve wanted to say it for a while, but I was afraid I’d scare you off or trigger another round of self-loathing, but I don’t care anymore. I almost died, and all I could think was that I’d never told you. That you’d come home and find me and blame yourself and never know how much I love you. Because it’s so much. I love you so much. And I never want you to leave. I want to spend the rest of my life arguing with you about dumb things and making up in bed. Or in the kitchen. Or in the backyard under that waterfall you’re going to build me. Or honestly anywhere. I just want you .”

I finally ran out of air, my heart pounding. Please don’t freak out. Please don’t freak out. Please don’t—

“You’re sure?” Mason said, like we were talking about directions to the post office. “You’re absolutely positive?”

“That I love you? Yes.”

“Me. You love… me ?”

“Do you think I got you confused with someone else? Yes, you.” I took a shaky breath. “Now can you put me out of my misery and tell me if you’re going to run for the hills?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I would never.”

“I mean, you have tried a few times.”

“When I was trying to run from who I was. And what I felt. But once I realized it—Kai, I think I’ve loved you since the first night I saw you again. Maybe even since high school. I definitely haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then, no matter how hard I tried. I was hiding from you because I was hiding from myself. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“ I am going to elect to believe you,” I said loftily, “and not make you say you’re sure a thousand times.” Then I grinned. “But if you do try to change your mind, I am one hundred percent coming to hunt you down.”

“Mmm. I like the sound of that,” Mason said. “You said the rest of our lives. I’d be mad if you didn’t hold me to it.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t,” I teased. “Because I like making you mad. I like what tends to happen afterwards.”

For a second, we just stood there like a pair of idiots, grinning at each other in the entryway.

Then Mason pulled me close again and kissed me.

It was a deep kiss, like he was trying to meld his body with mine until there was no distance between us, not even an atom’s worth, because we were made out of the same stuff. I was just fine with that.

Tonight, I’d been anxious, turned on, then anxious again, then terrified, then weirdly turned on again by how Mason took charge and kept Myers down until the rest of the police arrived, and then, finally, exhausted, but damn if my body didn’t find a way to get turned on once more as Mason pressed me up against the mirror in the entryway.

But the mirror shifted behind my back, and I decided that turned on though I was, there were better places to do this. I pushed away from the wall and walked us slowly towards the stairs, still kissing, until we bumped up against the bottom of the banister.

“Upstairs?” Mason murmured against my jaw. “That’s so far away.”

But I refused to let myself be distracted. I began walking up the stairs backwards, while trying to kiss Mason and take off my shirt at the same time. The hard wood was slippery under my socks, and I fell on my ass twice. The third time, I brought him down with me.

“Fuck,” he growled as we landed in a heap, him mostly on top of me.

“Oh, shit. Your ribs. I wasn’t thinking.”

“My ribs will be fine,” he said. “But I still think this would be easier if we stayed downstairs.”

I nipped at his lower lip. “Thanks all the same, but I’d rather my ass didn’t permanently smell like a Pizza Hut.”

He snorted. “I doubt they use real olive oil. At least not extra virgin.”

I used the fact that we were sitting down as an opportunity to tug my pajama pants off. “Not the point.”

“Still, it’s a shame.” Mason licked his lips as my hands went to the fly of his jeans. “I do love a stuffed crust.”

I stood up. “Get me up into bed and you can stuff away.” He looked plaintively at me, jeans half-off, eyes huge. “Or you can sit there like a sad puppy-dog all night.”

“You’re cruel,” he said, pulling his jeans off and standing. “Cruel and heartless.”

By the time we made it to the bedroom, we were naked, our clothes strewn behind us, marking our trail.

“Now,” I told him. “I believe I still owe you an orgasm. So if you’ll do me the favor of getting on the bed, it would be a great honor to take care of that.”

I grinned wickedly. Mason slid onto the bed, but when I crawled on top of him, he put his hand on my chest and said, “Turn around. I want to sixty-nine.”

“Really?” I felt my eyebrows rise.

“It’s no fair that you get to suck my cock but I can’t do anything at the same time.”

“You have a broken rib. If anyone is entitled to be a pillow princess, it’s you.”

“Entitled, sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to rim you.”

I blinked. “Have you done that before?”

“Would it bother you if I had?” He grinned.

“No! But fucking a guy in the ass is one thing. Eating his ass is another. On the gay scale, I mean.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “What can I say? I like olive oil.”

“I did take a shower, you know. I’m not exactly going to be drizzling it out onto you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get the residue.”

“Mixed with cum and green tea body wash? That hardly sounds appetizing.”

“Will you stop objecting and sit on my face already?”

I laughed. “I just want to make sure it’s what you want. You don’t have to dive into anything.”

“Kai, I thought I was going to lose you tonight and it nearly killed me. I don’t want to hold back.”

“Fine, you asked for it. If I taste like a Caesar salad, that’s on you.”

“Caesar salad has creamy dressing. If that’s how you want to taste, we’d better get some cream up there. Some anchovies too.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m just giving you the recipe. You have to use anchovies if it’s going to be authentic.”

“If you come anywhere near my asshole with fish, I will end you.”

“Big words.” He laughed. “You gonna back ‘em up?”

“You’re impossible,” I told him. But I did back myself up.

Mason was lying back against the pillows, and it was a little awkward to get into position, but I forgot all about that when I felt his hands spread my ass apart, his warm, wet tongue sliding down to my hole. That made me forget just about everything , though I did at least try to suck his cock with some degree of competence. But it was hard when all I could think about was how good his tongue felt as it pressed into me, and how soon it would be his cock pressing into me instead.

Mason turned out to be amazing at eating ass, using his tongue and lips and even teeth to tease my hole, then push into it, getting it wet and sloppy with spit. I hoped it was just spit, at least, and not residual oil. Even that thought wasn’t enough to turn me off, though.

Someday, I was going to need to sit Mason down and make him tell me what he and his fellow Marines did while they were overseas. But right now, I needed his dick inside me. I looked over my shoulder.

“Mason, I need it. I need you.”

I crawled off of him and grabbed the lube from the nightstand. I slicked his cock with it, and then my hole. He watched me like I was the only water for two hundred miles, and he was dying of thirst. I prepped myself with my fingers, then smiled at him. “Ready?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he said. “Ready to make some Caesar dressing?

“One more joke like that, and I’m going to start thinking you have a kink for Italian food.”

“You got me. I want to fuck the Little Caesar’s mascot.” He grinned.

“I guess he and I are both short.”

“Mmm, you’d look delicious in a toga.”

I straddled him again, but this time I faced him, so I could look him in the eye as I positioned him right at my entrance. Then I sat back, easing myself onto his cock. It was still a stretch, but a good one. I loved the way he filled me up—how he found space inside me that I didn’t know I had.

I pulled off slightly, then sat back down, moving slowly at first. I wanted to draw this out, make it as good for him as it was for me. I closed my eyes and brought my hand to my chin, then trailed my fingers down my neck and chest.

“Touch yourself,” he breathed, his voice thick. “I want to watch.”

I let my hand fall to my cock, toying with the tip. My fingers were still slippery as they glided over the head, then grasped my shaft. I pressed up with my knees, pulling off his cock a little more, then sinking down again. I couldn’t contain a groan, and I realized I’d have to strike my no-moaning-in-front-of-Mason law from the books. I’d been breaking it for too long now, and I didn’t plan on stopping.

Mason held my hip with his good hand, his fingers stroking the skin there, then gripping into it as I began to move faster, sliding down onto his cock, then off, then back down again faster and faster.

“Fuck, I can’t take it anymore,” he said.

Before I could ask what he meant, he was pulling me down on top of him. Then he rolled, so he was on top, propped up on his good arm. He thrust his hips, his cock sliding deeper into me.

“Jesus. Are you really going to fuck me while doing a one-armed push-up?”

“You gotta problem with that?” He thrust his hips again.

“Show-off,” I grumbled. “I always knew you were arrogant.”

“It’s not arrogance if you can back it up.”

“I’m not sure that’s the actual definition offfffffuhhhhck,” I groaned as his cock pumped into me again. “Are you sure this is good for your ribs?”

He laughed, winced, and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it’s not, but I’m positive that I don’t care, when I can make you moan like that.”

Hmm. Maybe I needed to restructure the no-moaning law instead of abolishing it entirely. Now that I knew how much he liked it, I might need to dole my moans out more sparingly, as encouragement and reward.

But I’d have to consider that later, because right now, I was too busy being impressed—and then having my consciousness wiped entirely. The new position gave Mason a leverage he hadn’t had before, and god, I loved it. I wrapped my legs around him like a koala, urging him on, harder and faster.

“Touch yourself,” he growled again.

I brought my hand back, my eyes closing in the intense rush of pleasure sweeping over me. I was close. I stroked myself faster, moving my hand in time with his cock thrusting inside me.

Mason came first. His breath caught and his hips stuttered. He fell onto his elbow, his head hanging down. His cock throbbed within me. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss as he pulsed inside me, stroking myself a few final times until I came too, spilling into the hot, sweaty space between our bodies.

When I could finally think again, I pushed him back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning down at me.

“Nothing, with me . But I don’t want you going back to the hospital a third time, so please lie on your back and stop fucking up your ribs for once.”

“If fucking up my ribs is the price I have to pay for fucking you…” he shrugged and smiled.

“That’s your post-orgasm haze talking. Give it a few more minutes until your post-orgasm clarity kicks in, and then you’ll appreciate me trying to keep you out of the ER.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Last time I was at the ER, this hot guy was sending me all these sexts. I kind of enjoyed that.”

“I promise, I will sext you all you want if you lie down .”

With a final pout that was sexier than it had any right to be, he pulled out and rolled onto his back. I heaved a sigh of relief. As far as I was concerned, he should go back and get another X-ray right now, but for tonight, I would settle for him not making things any worse.

I handed him some tissues before cleaning myself up, then brought his water bottle and my glass from the bathroom back to the bedroom with me. I wouldn’t even let him sit back up to drink. I squeezed the water out of his bottle in a stream so he could swallow it.

“Mmm. Kin fdsdfhjhsdfasdfk —” he sputtered, trying to talk before I’d stopped squirting. I laughed and waited for him to stop coughing.

“I was going to say kinky ,” he said when he got his coughing under control. “But now my ribs hurt too much to be turned on.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll finally stop pushing yourself then.”

I set the water bottle and glass back on the nightstand, then crawled into bed and pulled the top sheet over us. I pressed up against him and threw an arm over his chest—lightly. Very lightly.

We lay in silence for a few minutes, his chest rising and falling under my arm, the night holding us close. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. I’d almost lost this—almost lost him—and I was never going to take what we had for granted again.

“Mason?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

He shifted in the dark and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I love you too.”