Page 26 of The Proposal Planner (Ever After #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MASON

The moment I set Maddy down, the rest of the world evaporates.

Late afternoon light spills across her like honey, catching in her hair, gilding her skin in a way that makes her look unreal, like a dream I'm afraid to wake from.

My hands still tremble, not from carrying her, but from the gravity of this moment.

The threshold we've crossed. The line we didn't toe, we leapt over it, hearts first.

"Second thoughts?" she asks, her voice low, threaded with mischief.

"Not one," I say.

"Then let's stop thinking," she says.

And then I kiss her.

This time, there's no stopping, no interruptions, no attempts at restraint. It's all heat and hunger. Her mouth opens to mine like she's been waiting for this since the day we met, and the sound she makes, a quiet, breathy moan, unravels every thread of my self-control.

My hands slide beneath the hem of her sweater, fingertips skating over warm skin. I pause, not to ask, but to give her one last chance to breathe.

She doesn't need it.

She reaches for my shirt, her fingers nimble on the buttons.

We move in tandem, clothes peeling away. Her sweater comes over her head, baring a sliver of skin that makes me forget how to breathe. Her skin is flushed, luminous in the golden light, and I can't stop touching her, palming her waist, brushing over the soft curve of her ribs.

Her hands find my chest, trailing fire across every nerve ending. They're soft and certain, like she's not touching me, she's claiming me.

"You're beautiful," I whisper against her neck, dragging my mouth along her skin, tasting the faint salt of her and the heat rising beneath it.

She smells like citrus and something sweeter, like vanilla melted under sun-warmed skin.

It hits me like a spell I didn't know I was under until it was too late.

"So are you," she breathes, like she means it, like she sees something in me no one else ever has.

We undress each other with reverence. Like worship. When I trace the delicate line of her collarbone with my lips, she shivers, her body arching toward mine.

"Mason," she gasps, and I swear I feel it echo inside my chest.

Her hands roam, into my hair, down my spine, across my shoulder blades, leaving heat in their wake, branding me. I've had sex before. I've even had passion. But this? This is something else. This is soul-deep, blood-warm, universe-collapsing intimacy.

When we're skin to skin on the ridiculous faux bear rug that's somehow become sacred ground, I take a moment to look at her. Her hair fans out around her like ink on parchment, her lips kiss-bitten, her eyes hazy with want. Trust radiates from her in waves.

"You're staring," she says, but her expression says she doesn't mind.

"I'm memorizing," I say, brushing her hair back from her cheek. "I want to remember everything."

Her fingers skim along my jaw, feather-light and grounding all at once. "Memorize me later. Right now, I need you."

I brace my weight over her, our noses touching, and the heat between us hums like static. I can see every shade of brown in her eyes, every fleck of gold. The closeness is intimate. Breath-stealing.

Then I see it.

The bear head has somehow twisted around during our … relocation activities. Instead of pointing toward the wall like it should be, it's now facing us, its glassy eyes fixed in a stare that can best be described as stern judgment.

"Um," I say, glancing over at our furry witness. "I think we have an audience."

Maddy follows my gaze and bursts into laughter, not the kind that wrecks the mood, but a joyful, unguarded sound that makes everything feel right in the world. "Oh my god, it looks like it's disapproving."

"Should I be concerned that a fake bear is judging my technique before I even have a chance to demonstrate it?"

She grins up at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it is a discerning bear. I'm sure it has high standards."

"Great. Performance anxiety from synthetic wildlife. That's a new one."

"Don't worry," she says, pulling my head down to hers. "I'll give you an excellent review."

And then she's kissing me again, and the bear becomes irrelevant, forgotten in the face of her warmth and sweetness and the way she makes me feel like I'm the man she's been waiting for.

Our lovemaking begins with exploration. A dance of mouths and hands and breath.

Her skin is silk over fire beneath my fingertips, and every place I touch feels like a discovery.

She's responsive in a way that makes me feel powerful and helpless all at once, arching into me with soft sighs and gasps that brand themselves into my memory.

We learn each other in real time, what makes her gasp, what makes me groan, what pulls pleasure from her body like a secret I'm meant to know.

"Tell me what you need," I whisper, lips brushing her ear, fingers gliding down her side, memorizing the slope of her waist, the vulnerable softness of her belly.

"You," she breathes, voice raw and sure. "All of you."

The trust in her voice guts me. No hesitation. No fear. Open, willing surrender. It seizes something deep in my chest and twists, hard.

I settle between her thighs, our mouths still moving lazily, like we can't stop tasting each other. Her legs wrap around my hips, heels pressing into the backs of my thighs as I guide myself to her entrance.

And then,

God.

She stretches to take me, inch by aching inch, her breath catching against my mouth as her body opens to fit mine. The sensation is exquisite, tight, hot, enveloping. She gasps, hands fisting in the fur as her back arches, and I still inside her, fighting for control I didn't know I'd need.

My forehead drops to hers. I breathe her in, vanilla and need and a sweetness I'll chase for the rest of my life. "Are you okay?"

She nods, eyes heavy-lidded and burning with trust. "You feel like ... everything."

I start to move. A slow roll of my hips, a rhythm that builds with every breath, every gasp, every graze of skin.

Her nails scrape down my back, and it drives me harder, deeper.

We fall into something wild and consuming, a tangle of limbs and breath and whispered curses.

My name on her lips is a lifeline, anchoring me when I feel like I'm unraveling.

She moves with me, fluid and greedy, her hips meeting mine in a rhythm that grows more urgent by the second. Her thighs grip my waist, pulling me deeper. Her moans grow louder, uninhibited, breathy declarations that undo every shred of control I have left.

My thrusts become relentless, driven by a need I can't temper. Our bodies slap together in a cadence that feels like worship and abandon all at once. I can't get close enough, deep enough, can't press myself far enough inside to satisfy the craving she's woken in me.

Her head tips back, exposing her throat, and I take it with my mouth, sucking, biting, soothing. She tastes like sweat and sin and everything I've ever wanted. Her fingers tangle in my hair, anchoring me there, dragging me back to her mouth.

"Look at me," she pants, voice cracked and breathless.

I lift my gaze to hers, and the world shatters.

The look in her eyes floors me. Desire, yes. But more. So much more. Affection, depth, something close to love. Something so real I miss my next breath.

"Maddy," I choke out, her name dragged from my chest.

"I know," she says, her voice shaking. "Sweetheart, I feel it too."

That word, sweetheart, breaks me.

Our movements grow frantic. Desperate. Like we're chasing something out of reach, something essential and eternal. I grip her hips, angle deeper, watching her fall apart beneath me. She clings to me, nails digging in, her cries getting higher, rougher.

"Please," she whimpers, eyes wide, pupils blown. "Mason, please"

"I've got you," I groan, voice shredded. "Let go for me."

She does, gloriously.

Her entire body bows, mouth parting in a silent cry as pleasure ripples through her in waves. I watch her break and rebuild in my arms, and it undoes me.

I follow her over the edge, the release hitting hard, hot and overwhelming. I bury my face in her neck as I spill inside her, lost to the moment, to her, to this.

Afterward, we collapse in a breathless heap, tangled and slick with sweat, her leg slung over mine, her hand splayed across my chest.

The only sound is our uneven breathing, the occasional creak of the loft settling around us, and the sound of my heartbeat still hammering as I come back to myself.

The late afternoon light has deepened into something molten and golden, washing across our bare skin like it knows what we've done. Like it approves.

Maddy rests her cheek on my chest, her breath soft against my skin. I stroke her back, feel her shiver and settle.

"Well," she says after a long pause, her voice wrecked and amused, "I hope the bear's review reflects the final act."

I laugh, low and rough. "If it didn't, it wasn't paying attention."

She lets out a contented sigh, then tilts her head to look at me, eyes still heavy-lidded, lips curved in that soft, post-orgasmic expression that might kill me dead. "That was…"

"Life-changing?" I offer, half-joking but serious.

"I was going to say incredible," she says, brushing her fingers across my jaw, "but yeah… life-changing works too."

I pull her up for a kiss, this one soft and slow and full of everything I can't quite find words for yet. "You're incredible."

"We're incredible," she corrects, settling back against my chest. "That was a team effort."

I laugh, the sound low and genuine. "The bear seemed to approve by the end."

She glances over at our synthetic witness, whose head has somehow twisted even further during our activities. Now it appears to be looking at the ceiling, as if politely averting its gaze.

"See? Even fake animals have manners."