Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Beau
I woke up to sunlight streaming through the hotel curtains and Mason’s arm draped across my chest.
For a moment, I just lay there, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid that if I did anything at all, this would turn out to be a dream. But then Mason shifted beside me, his breath warm against my shoulder, and I knew it was real.
We’d really done that. Multiple times. In multiple positions.
My body ached in the best possible way.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Mason mumbled against my skin, his voice rough with sleep.
“How can you tell?”
“I can feel it. Your entire body tenses up when you overthink.” He pressed a kiss on my shoulder. “Stop it.”
“I’m not overthinking. I’m just... processing.”
“Processing what?” Mason propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with those intense blue eyes. His hair was a disaster—my fault—and there was a hickey on his collarbone that I vaguely remembered putting there around 2 AM.
“That this is real,” I admitted. “And you’re here, in bed with me. That last night actually happened.”
Mason’s expression softened. “It happened. And I meant what I said—I don’t regret it.”
“Even in the cold light of day?”
“Especially in the cold light of day.” He leaned down and kissed me thoroughly. “Although we should probably get up. The meeting’s at nine.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 7:43 AM. “We have time.”
“Beau—”
“We have time,” I repeated, pulling him back down.
We didn’t make it to the shower until 8:15.
* * *
The final meeting was a formality. Richard Huang and his team had already agreed to everything; today was just about signatures and handshakes and celebrating a successful merger.
Beverly was waiting in the lobby when we arrived, looking impeccable in a black pantsuit despite the fact that we’d left her at the club twelve hours ago.
“Boys!” She grinned, and I swear there was a knowing glint in her eye. “You both look... refreshed.”
“We got a good night’s sleep,” Mason said, his tone perfectly professional.
“I bet you did.” Beverly’s smile widened as her eyes traveled between us. “Very restful, I’m sure. In your separate rooms.”
I felt heat creep up my neck. “Beverly—”
“Relax, I’m just teasing.” She linked her arm through mine as we walked toward the elevators. “But for the record? The bruise on Mason’s neck that he’s trying very hard to hide with his collar? Dead giveaway.”
Mason’s hand flew to his neck, and I bit back a laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’m not saying anything,” Beverly continued. “Your secret’s safe with me. Although you should invest in a good concealer if you’re planning to keep this under wraps.”
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside. As soon as they closed, Beverly turned to face us with a serious expression.
“Look, I meant what I said last night. You two have something real. Something worth fighting for.” She squeezed my arm. “Don’t let fear or corporate politics or whatever other bullshit excuses you can come up with get in the way. Life’s too short.”
“Beverly—” Mason started.
“I know, I know. It’s complicated. But Mason?” She looked at him directly. “Sometimes the best things are.”
The elevator dinged, and we stepped out into the MediCorp offices.
The meeting was exactly what I expected—lots of congratulations, some final paperwork, and Richard practically glowing as he signed the merger documents.
Marcus and Janet were all smiles, and Beverly kept shooting us looks that made it very clear she was enjoying watching us try to act professionally.
“Gentlemen,” Richard said, standing and shaking both our hands, “this has been an absolute pleasure. You’ve made this process smoother than I ever could have hoped. Please give our regards to Carter and Patsy.”
“We will,” Mason said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Our pleasure. And Beverly?” Richard turned to her. “Make sure these two have a safe flight home.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure they’re very well taken care of,” Beverly said with a leer that made me want to disappear into the floor.
She walked us out to the lobby, and when we reached the doors, she pulled us both into a hug.
“You’re good men,” she said. “And you’re good together. Don’t forget that when things get complicated back home.”
“We won’t,” I promised.
“Good.” She stepped back, her expression turning mischievous. “And Beau? Next time you leave hickeys on someone, maybe think about whether they’ll be wearing a shirt that shows it off.”
I looked at Mason, whose face had gone bright red, and started laughing.
“Go on, get out of here before I embarrass you further.” Beverly shooed us toward the door. “Safe travels, boys.”
* * *
The cab ride to the airport felt different than the ride from it. Mason’s hand found mine in the back seat, our fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. We didn’t talk much—didn’t need to. Everything felt settled, comfortable, and right.
At the airport, we checked our bags and made our way to the gate. I was scrolling through emails on my phone when Mason suddenly tensed beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just... don’t look now, but Derek’s at the gate.”
“Who?”
“Derek. The flight attendant.”
I glanced up and saw a guy in a United uniform chatting with someone at the desk. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Oh, okay?”
Mason’s jaw tightened. “He gave you his number. Asked you out.”
It took me a second to remember, and then it clicked—the overly friendly flight attendant who’d been flirting with me. “Oh, right. That guy.”
“You don’t remember him.”
“Not really.” I looked at Mason, at the possessive set of his shoulders, and couldn’t help but smile. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“You’re totally jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m just... observing.”
“Uh-huh.” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. “Mason, I don’t even remember what that guy looks like. Because the entire flight, all I could think about was you. Your leg pressed against mine, and the way you looked like you wanted to devour me.”
Mason’s pupils dilated. “Beau—”
“And you know what I’m thinking about now?” I continued, my voice dropping even lower. “How you looked last night with your head thrown back. The sounds you made. How you felt inside me.”
“We’re in public,” Mason said, but his voice had gone rough.
“I know. Which means you have to sit here and think about all the things I’m going to do to you when we get home.”
His hand tightened on mine. “You’re going to kill me.”
“That’s the plan.”
Derek walked past us then, doing a double-take when he saw me. “Oh! Hey! You’re on this flight too?”
“Looks like it,” I said pleasantly.
Derek’s eyes dropped to our joined hands, and his smile faltered slightly. “Oh. So you two are...?”
“Together,” Mason said firmly. “We’re together.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest at hearing him say it out loud, claiming me in front of someone else.
“That’s... great. Really great.” Derek nodded, backing away. “Well, enjoy your flight!”
He disappeared into the jet bridge, and Mason let out a breath.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. I just...” He looked at me. “I wanted to make sure he knew. That you’re not available.”
“I’m very much not available.”
* * *
When we landed in Richmond, the November cold hit us like a slap after the warmth of New Orleans. We grabbed our bags and headed to the parking garage. I’d taken a Lyft here, so I followed Mason to his car.
“My place or yours?” I asked as he started the engine.
Mason didn’t hesitate. “Mine. It’s not filled with unpacked boxes.”
The drive to his apartment felt like it took forever. Mason’s hand found my thigh, his thumb tracing absent patterns that were driving me insane. Every red light was torture. Every stop sign was an eternity.
Finally, we pulled up to his building. We grabbed our bags and practically ran up the stairs, Mason fumbling with his keys for what felt like an hour before getting the door open.
The moment we were inside, bags forgotten in the entryway, Mason’s mouth was on mine. He backed me toward the bedroom, our hands already pulling at clothes, desperate to feel skin on skin again.
We fell onto his bed in a tangle of limbs, and Mason pulled back just long enough to look at me.
“Hi,” he said, his voice soft.
“Hi yourself.” I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair.
“I wish we hadn’t taken so long to…” His hand cupped my face. “I’m a fool most of the time, unable to accept what’s right in front of my face.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Mason.”
Something in my chest tightened at the vulnerability in his eyes. This thing between us—it was more than just physical. More than just the chemistry we’d been fighting. It was something deeper, something that made my breath catch and my heart race for entirely different reasons.
“Mason,” I said, not sure what I was trying to say, just needing to say his name.
“I know.” He kissed me again, slower this time. “I feel it too.”
And then we weren’t talking anymore. We were just feeling—hands and mouths and skin, the slide of bodies together, the gasp of breath and whispered names. It was different from New Orleans. Like we were learning each other, memorizing every sound and touch and reaction.
I moved over him, settling between his thighs, and Mason’s hands came up to cup my face. His eyes were so blue, so open, and I could see everything in them—the trust, the vulnerability, the hope that this was real.
“You sure?” I asked, even though we’d already crossed this line. Even though I knew the answer.
“I’m sure.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “I want this. I want you.”
I kissed him then, slow and deep, pouring everything I couldn’t say into that kiss. And when I finally pushed inside him, when his body opened for me and his breath hitched and his fingers dug into my shoulders, I had to stop and just breathe.
“Okay?” I managed, my voice barely steady.
“More than okay.” Mason’s legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”
We moved together slowly, finding a rhythm that was less about urgency and more about connection.
Every thrust was deliberate, and every touch meant something.
I watched his face—the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his lips parted, the flush spreading across his cheeks—and committed it all to memory.
“Look at me,” I whispered, and when his eyes opened, I saw everything I was feeling reflected back at me. The desire, and need. The terrifying, exhilarating realization that this wasn’t just sex.
“Beau,” Mason breathed, and the way he said my name—like it was sacred, like it meant something—made my chest ache.
I leaned down, pressing my forehead to his, our breath mingling as we moved together. “Mason, I’ve got you,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Please don’t stop.”
“Never,” I promised.
We built slowly toward something bigger than just release, something that felt like it was rewiring my entire nervous system. And when we finally fell over that edge together, with Mason’s name on my lips and mine on his, I felt something click into place.
Something that felt a lot like coming home.
We lay tangled together afterward, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and I pressed soft kisses to his temple, his cheek, his jaw.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Mason’s hand found mine, lacing our fingers together. “Better than okay.”
I rolled to the side, pulling him with me so we were facing each other. There was a softness in his expression I’d never seen before.
“We should talk,” he breathed. “About what this means. About work.”
“Later,” I said, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”
“Okay.” His arms tightened around me. “Later.”
I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him. This wasn’t just chemistry or lust or the thrill of something forbidden. This was the kind of thing that kept you up at night, or the stuff poets wrote about and people spent lifetimes searching for.
And it scared the hell out of me.
Because tomorrow we’d have to walk into that office and pretend this hadn’t changed everything. We’d have to sit across from each other in meetings and act like colleagues when all I’d want to do is reach across the table and touch him.
We’d have to figure out how to keep this secret, assuming that’s what we wanted to do.
And I wasn’t sure I did.