Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
DESTINY
Iwake to the unfamiliar weight of an arm draped across my waist and the steady rhythm of Mason's breathing against my neck. Sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. For a moment, I simply exist in this perfect bubble, warm, safe, and utterly content.
Last night changed everything. What started as a desperate escape plan has transformed into something I never expected to find, especially not so soon after Greg. Something that feels dangerously like falling in love.
I trace the veins on Mason's forearm where it rests against my stomach. His skin is warm, slightly rough with a dusting of dark hair. I've memorized these arms now, how they feel wrapped around me, how they trembled with restraint as he entered me, how they held me through each shuddering climax.
"You're thinking too loud," he murmurs against my hair, his voice morning-rough in a way that sends delicious shivers down my spine.
"Sorry." I roll to face him, taking in the sight of sleep-tousled hair and stubbled jaw. He looks younger like this, less guarded.
"Don't apologize." He props himself up on one elbow. "Just tell me what's going on in that beautiful head."
The simple request, spoken with such genuine interest, catches me off guard. Greg never cared about my thoughts unless they served his purposes.
"I'm thinking this is crazy." I place my palm against Mason's chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my fingers. "Three days ago, I showed up on your doorstep with a black eye and a suitcase. Now we're in bed together."
"Regrets?" His blue eyes search mine, prepared for rejection but hoping against it.
"Not a single one." I lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. "That's what scares me."
He pulls me closer, his hand warm against my bare back. "What we're doing isn't exactly in any relationship handbook."
"Is that what this is? A relationship?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Mason's thumb traces circles on my shoulder blade, his expression thoughtful. "I think it's whatever we want it to be."
"What do you want it to be?"
He takes his time answering, which I appreciate. No rushed platitudes or empty promises.
"I want to be the person you trust," he finally says. "The one who makes you feel safe, who sees all of you, not just the parts you think are acceptable to show. I want to be the reason you smile like you did at the tree lighting."
My throat tightens with emotion. "That's a tall order for someone you just met."
"Is it?" His eyes hold mine. "Because I think some people crash into our lives exactly when we need them to. Call it fate or coincidence or just dumb luck, but I'm not questioning it."
"Even with everything that comes with me? The baggage, the danger, the-"
"Especially with all that." He cuts me off gently. "Your past is part of you, but it doesn't define you. And we'll figure out the danger together."
I want to believe him. God, I want to so badly. But experience has taught me that men say what they think you want to hear when they're wrapped in the warm afterglow of sex.
Mason reads my hesitation easily. "You don't have to decide anything right now. We can take this one day at a time."
His understanding nearly undoes me. I snuggle closer, pressing my face against his chest. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not pushing. For giving me space to figure things out." I place a kiss over his heart. "For last night."
His chest rumbles with a low laugh. "Last night was entirely my pleasure."
"Oh really?" I arch an eyebrow, suddenly playful. "Because I seem to recall you being pretty focused on my pleasure."
"Multiple times," he agrees, a smug grin spreading across his face.
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory. Mason was...thorough in his attention. I've never felt so cherished, so thoroughly seen and satisfied by a partner.
"I'm a bit out of practice," I admit. "Greg wasn't exactly concerned with... reciprocity."
Mason's jaw tightens at the mention of my ex, but his voice remains gentle. "Then he was a fool on top of being a monster."
His hand slides down my back, coming to rest on the curve of my hip. His touch is purposeful but not demanding, silently letting me know he's interested but leaving the decision to me.
Decision made, I press my body against his, feeling him harden against my thigh. "Maybe you could remind me of what I've been missing?"
His eyes darken with desire. "Happy to oblige."
What follows is slow and languorous, a stark contrast to last night's urgent passion.
Mason takes his time exploring my body in the morning light, discovering sensitive spots that make me gasp and arch beneath him.
When he finally slides inside me, it's with a reverence that brings tears to my eyes.
We move together in perfect sync, as if we've been lovers for years rather than hours. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, savoring the weight of him above me, the friction of him inside me. His eyes never leave mine, making it impossible to hide the intensity of my response.
"Beautiful," he murmurs as I shatter around him. "So goddamn beautiful."
He follows moments later, my name a prayer on his lips.
After, we lie tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, catching our breath. Mason plays with my hair, twirling a blonde curl around his finger.
"What are you thinking now?" he asks.
I smile against his shoulder. "That I could get used to mornings like this."
"Good." He drops a kiss on my forehead. "Because I plan on many more."
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, ruining the romantic aftermath.
Mason laughs. "Breakfast first, then we figure out our next move."
"Next move?"
"With your ex." His expression turns serious. "Last night was a warning. He knows you're here, which means we need to be strategic."
The reminder of Greg's presence shatters our peaceful bubble. I sit up, pulling the sheet around me. "I should leave. I'm putting you in danger by staying."
"Absolutely not." Mason's voice leaves no room for argument. "Running solves nothing. We face this together."
"You don't understand what he's capable of."
"I understand enough." Mason sits up beside me, taking my hand in his. "You're not alone anymore, Destiny. That's what I'm trying to tell you."
The simple statement hits me with unexpected force. Not alone. For so long, I've carried the weight of fear and uncertainty by myself, convinced that no one could or would help me.
"I don't know how to do this," I confess, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do what?"
"Trust someone again. Depend on someone." I stare at our joined hands. "Every time I've tried, it's ended badly."
Mason lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I'm not everyone else. And I'm not asking for blind trust. I'm asking for a chance to earn it."
The sincerity in his blue eyes makes my chest ache. I nod, not trusting my voice.
He brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. "Let's start with something simple. Breakfast. Then a shower. Then we call Tom and make a plan."
"Okay." I manage a small smile. "But only if breakfast includes coffee."
"What kind of monster do you take me for?" He kisses the tip of my nose. "Of course there will be coffee."
After quick showers, separate, though Mason's lingering kiss suggested he was considering joining me, we head downstairs. Mason makes his signature French toast while I brew coffee, moving around the kitchen together with surprising ease.
It feels domestic. Normal. As if we've been doing this dance for years instead of days. The realization fills me with a warm glow of possibility.
We're just finishing breakfast when Mason's phone rings. His expression darkens as he looks at the caller ID.
"It's Tom," he says before answering. "Hey, what's up?"
I watch the play of emotions across Mason's face as he listens, concern, anger, then grim determination. My heart races, hands clenched around my coffee mug.
"When?" Mason asks. "Are you sure it was him?" Another pause. "Alright. Keep me posted."
He ends the call and sets his phone down carefully, too carefully. My mouth goes dry.
"What is it?"
Mason takes a deep breath. "The Escalade was spotted at the county courthouse this morning. The driver was asking questions about local property records."
"Property records?" I frown, confused. "Why would he—”
"Because your name isn't on any property here, but mine is." Mason runs a hand through his hair. "He's trying to confirm if you're staying with me."
Cold fear trickles down my spine. "Did they tell him anything?"
"No. Property records are public, but Tom warned the clerk not to give out personal information." Mason takes my hand across the table. "But it means he's getting desperate, which makes him dangerous."
I pull my hand away, standing abruptly. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. He won't stop, Mason. And now he's focusing on you."
"Let him." Mason's voice is hard with conviction. "I'm not afraid of him."
"You should be." My voice rises with panic. "You don't know what he's like when he doesn't get his way. The things he'll do."
"Then tell me." Mason stands too, coming around the table to grasp my shoulders gently. "Help me understand what we're dealing with."
I take a shuddering breath, fighting the instinct to run, to protect myself through isolation as I've done for months. Mason deserves the whole truth if he's going to put himself at risk for me.
"It's not just the physical abuse," I begin, the words coming haltingly. "Greg is... methodical. When we first started dating, he was charming, attentive. The perfect boyfriend. But looking back, I can see he was cataloging everything about me, my friends, my routines, my weaknesses."
Mason leads me to the couch, sitting close enough that I feel his warmth but not crowding me.