Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
My boyfriend is braving a literal blizzard to come see me.
I stand by the window, staring down at the parking lot like some housewife awaiting her husband’s return from war.
Outside, the snow falls heavily, blowing sideways in the bitter wind until the world blurs into a curtain of white.
Mason swore his truck could handle it, but my gut still knots at the thought of him out there.
It’s late November, and three long weeks have gone by since we last saw each other.
I’ve been buried in TA study sessions and stacks of exams, while Mason’s been grinding through double shifts at the burger joint.
I suppose distance really does make the heart grow fonder, because somehow, impossibly, I feel like I love him more every single day.
When the yellow glow of his headlights finally sweeps across the lot, I let out a shaky breath of relief. I dart to the door, heart hammering, and by the time his footsteps echo down the hallway, I’m already pulling it open.
He stands in the hallway, snow dusting his shoulders, his hair wet and curling.
His cheeks are flushed raw from the wind, lips pale and chapped.
And then he’s in my arms, smelling like frost and gasoline, kissing me with a desperation that steals the warmth right out of me.
His mouth is cold, but I don’t care—I kiss him harder, until we’re both breathless.
“Missed you, sunshine,” I whisper against him.
“Missed you more,” Mason murmurs, his voice still trembling from the cold.
I press one last kiss to his frozen lips before tugging him inside, shutting the door behind him. “Sit down. I made you dinner.”
His brows lift in surprise, but he doesn’t argue. He kicks off his boots, peels out of his snow-damp coat, and drops his duffle on the couch. He settles at the dining table while I plate the food.
“Homemade vegetarian burgers and fries,” I announce, sliding the food in front of him. “Don’t worry—it’s not a bean burger. I know you hate beans. It’s quinoa.”
A puzzled expression washes over his face. “What the fuck is… keen-wah?” he says slowly, the word foreign on his tongue.
A smile tugs on my lips. “It’s an edible seed from a plant, full of protein and fiber. It’s good, I promise.”
He still looks suspicious, like I’m trying to poison him.
I spin back toward the fridge. “Oh, right. Can’t forget this.” I take out a bottle of ranch and set it beside his plate.
Mason laughs. “You don’t even like ranch.”
“I know.” I meet his gaze, steady and warm. “But you do.”
Something softens in his expression, so tender it makes my skin tingle. He reaches across the table, brushing his cold fingers over mine.
“Thank you, baby.”
We eat together, the quiet broken only by the occasional crunch of fries. Mason drowns his plate in a ridiculous flood of ranch until it seeps dangerously close to his burger.
Between bites, he clears his throat. “So… I got an offer on the trailer.”
I look up, startled. Mason put their trailer up for sale a couple weeks ago. Anna had left it to him in her will.
“A good one, too,” he continues. “Enough to cover Mom’s medical debt. And the rest…” He shrugs. “I’m putting it aside for Maddie’s college fund. She deserves that much.”
Emotion stirs in my chest, making it difficult to swallow. I nod, but he keeps talking.
“So with that settled, I should probably start looking at apartments here. My classes start the second week of January.”
My appetite fades, and my burger suddenly feels too heavy. I set it down. “Oh.”
Mason pauses, watching me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I dismiss, staring down at the table. I shuffle the fries around my plate, feeling his eyes burning into me.
“Hunter,” he says, voice stern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I shift in my chair, my throat tight. “Is there… a reason you don’t want to live with me?” I ask quietly. “Not that you need one, of course. You’re allowed to want your own space.”
Mason’s brows pinch together. “What? No.” He leans forward, resting a warm palm on my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Hunter, of course I want to live with you. I just didn’t want to bring it up first and make you feel pressured.
And honestly, I can’t afford to split the rent here—it’s way too expensive. ”
“I wouldn’t make you split it,” I say quickly. “My parents pay the rent.”
He pulls his hand back, shaking his head. His posture turns rigid, shoulders squaring. “I don’t want to freeload off your parents.”
“Then you can chip in for utilities if it makes you feel better,” I counter, leaning closer. “Mase, I really want you to move in with me… if that’s something you’d even want—”
“Hunter, stop talking.” His voice is firm but gentle, the corners of his mouth curving up. His hazel eyes shine like polished jewels as he catches my trembling hands and stills them between his own. “Yes, you dork. Of course I’ll move in with you. Nothing would make me happier.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. I let out a shaky laugh, half joy, half disbelief. Relief floods through me so fast it makes my eyes sting. Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m out of my chair and climbing into his lap. His breath catches, but his hands immediately find my waist, steadying me.
I cup his face, my thumbs brushing along the sharp lines of his jaw. “You’re stuck with me now,” I whisper, and then I kiss him.
His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I melt into his warmth, the solid breadth of his shoulders beneath my palms. I sigh into the kiss, fingers gliding through his curls.
As our tongues tangle together, I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in my throat. He tastes unmistakably tangy and salty.
Mason pulls back just enough to frown, breath still uneven. “Why are you laughing?”
“You taste like ranch,” I manage between giggles, resting my forehead against his.
He pauses, then deadpans, “Do I need to brush my teeth?”
Heat spreads across my cheeks, and I shake my head quickly. “No. I… actually kind of like it,” I admit. “I think kissing you makes the flavor more tolerable.”
For a second, he just stares at me. Then he bursts out laughing, his chest trembling against mine. “I knew it!” he says, pumping his fist with exaggerated triumph. “I’ve officially converted you into a ranch lover.”
I roll my eyes, but my fond smile betrays me. “Not a ranch lover,” I correct softly, tucking his hair out of his eyes. “Just a Mason lover.”
***
He would never admit it out loud, but Mason prefers being the little spoon.
Despite being six-foot-two and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle, there’s nothing he loves more than having me cling to his shoulders like a backpack while he sleeps.
And I don’t mind one bit—my nose buried in his soft curls, arms looped around his chest, my perpetually cold feet tucked between his warm calves.
The only downside? It’s nearly impossible to hide my morning wood.
When my eyes flutter open, heat surges low in my belly, blood rushing straight to my groin. My cock is rock hard, flush against the small of his back. God damn it.
I try to ease away, to give him space, but he grumbles in his sleep and clamps down on my arm, holding me in place. He looks unfairly adorable like this—curls scattered across the pillow, lips parted, snoring softly.
Last night was simple and sweet. After dinner and that quiet, perfect moment where we agreed to move in together, Mason was exhausted.
He’d worked a nine-hour shift at Beachside Burgers, followed by a three-hour drive through a blizzard to Shelby Harbor.
We ended up kissing and cuddling until he fell asleep in my arms. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Now, though, I want to devour him.
My lips press into his shoulder blades, decorating his tanned skin with light kisses. He hums in his sleep, low and gravelly, the sound making my cock twitch. His legs shift lazily against the satin sheets, his body slowly waking.
My fingers skim down his side, curving over the sharp angle of his hip. His muscles twitch beneath my touch.
“Mase,” I murmur against his ear.
His lashes flutter. “Mm.”
“Good morning,” I whisper, squeezing him closer.
A soft, drowsy smile tugs at his mouth. “Mornin’.”
He shifts back into me, grinding against the ache between my legs. I gasp at the contact, my fingers tightening on his hips, nails biting into his skin.
“Need you,” I groan, brushing his curls aside to kiss the back of his neck.
His eyes blink open, adjusting to the light. He rolls onto his back, and I seize the opportunity to climb on top of him. He looks up at me, teeth biting his lower lip, desire igniting in his gaze.
“You can have me,” he says.
My lips attach to his neck, kissing him greedily, biting and nipping at his skin.
Our erections rock together between layers of fabric, each movement sparking more friction, more need.
His hands roam down my back and slip beneath my T-shirt, tugging it upward.
I let him peel it off, the cool morning air sweeping over my bare chest.
“Want you in my mouth,” I whisper against his neck.
A moan vibrates beneath my lips. “Please, baby.”
I trail kisses down his body, pausing at his bulging pecs to suck and tug on his nipples. My palms grope his chest, squeezing, feeling the solid muscles.
My kisses drift lower, down his absurdly perfect abs that spasm beneath me. I lick hungrily at his skin, sliding my tongue into the dips. My fingers curl around his waistband.
“Hold on,” Mason grumbles.
I pause as he disconnects his insulin pump and sets it aside. He spreads his legs wider, providing space for me to settle between them. Afterwards, he nods, giving the go ahead to tug down his boxers and free his hard cock.
No matter how many times I’ve seen my boyfriend’s dick, I’ll never get used to it.