Epilogue
EPILOGUE
PIA
“Happy New Year,” everyone cheered around us. I kissed Mason and surveyed the room. Our first major gathering in the newly renovated meeting space was, for all intents and purposes, a success. The fact that we were sold out on a weekend that was typically only half-filled, and that we’d made so much progress in just a few months, was almost as fulfilling as kissing the man who would be my husband.
“Look at this,” he said with a sweep of his hand. “This is all you.”
“Not all me,” I argued. “I’d say it was both of us.”
“Fine. Mostly you.”
“I’m just sorry Beck couldn’t make it with work.”
“You’re not sick of him?” Mason asked as the revelry continued around us. The sax player whose name we got from Maggie began to play once again—the New Orleans-themed party was a perfect opportunity for our first Heritage Hill and the Big Easy partnership.
“Not yet. At least Parker’s here,” I said as Mason’s friend joined us.
“Nice job, you two.”
“Thanks to you,” I said, snatching a glass of champagne from the caterer’s tray, “we have a space to do this. I still can’t believe how different it looks without the wall.”
“And with some paint, a new floor and windows, among other things,” Parker said, looking around.
“Speaking of paint and a new floor,” Mason said. “How’s the new job coming?”
Parker’s face said it all.
“Guess we don’t want to know?” I asked.
“No. You don’t.”
“Jack?” Mason frowned.
“Always.”
“They say people don’t quit their job, they quit their bosses.” I smiled knowingly at Mason.
“Thankfully we’re partners. Or will be soon,” he said. “Don’t want to worry about you quitting on me.”
“No chance of that,” I said.
“While the two of you continue to fawn all over each other, I’m going to hit the chocolate fountain,” Parker said.
“You don’t even like chocolate,” Mason said.
“Exactly.” Parker walked away, leaving Mason and me laughing. Until he got that look in his eye.
“Oh no. I know that look.”
“Speaking of fawning all over one another,” he said, confirming my suspicions. Mason grabbed my hand and tugged it. “I need to ask you a private question.”
Although I let him guide me upstairs, I had to remind him we were the hosts.
“Mason,” I said, the second he closed our bedroom door behind me. “We?—”
His mouth covered mine while he lifted up my short dress. Apparently he understood without me having to remind him that we needed to be down there since it was our party. When he stopped long enough to strip me of my thong and feel that I was, indeed, more than ready for him, Mason undid his pants. With my help.
Without even moving to the bed, he hiked me up, my legs straddling him. And just like that, we went from mingling to making love. I wanted him with the same intensity as that first time, and Mason knew exactly how to please me.
When we finished, he helped my panties back up, but stayed kneeling before me.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, pushing his shoulders back.
“Too late.” Mason’s hand ran up both of my bare legs. The thought of him down there, between my legs, almost had me changing my mind, despite the fact that someone might need us.
“Oh man,” I murmured, about to give in to the delicious sensations, and sight, of Mason in that position. Until I remembered the sax player finished at twelve thirty. It had to be close to that, and he needed to be tipped.
“We can’t,” I said. “I need to tip the saxophone player. It’s got to be close to twelve thirty by now.”
With a sound that was suspiciously close to a growl, Mason stood up, hauled me against him and kissed me. Hard. “Fine,” he said, clearly displeased.
Join the club.
“Raincheck?”
“It depends. When?”
“When the party’s over?”
With a kiss on the neck, Mason murmured against me, “I don’t think the party will ever be over with us, sweet Pia. I am so fucking in love with you.”
“So sweet,” I teased. “With that mouth of yours.”
“I happen to know you like my mouth.”
Couldn’t argue with that.
“New rule,” I said. “Quickies can only involve one orgasm. Otherwise, they aren’t quickies.”
Mason groaned. “You know how good I am at following rules.”
I tossed my arms around his neck. “Never fall in love. It’s a dumb rule to begin with. Who can actually prevent themselves from falling in love?”
“Apparently, not me.”
Mason kissed me, a kiss full of that very love he wasn’t supposed to have felt. A kiss full of the warmth I hadn’t realized he was capable of when we’d first met.
A kiss full of promise for a partnership, in work and play, that was just beginning.