Chapter 11 - Lily #2
He leans down and kisses me then. Softer this time, gentle, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that makes me happier than ever before. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm.
"Now let's actually shower," he murmurs. "Before we run out of hot water."
He reaches for the soap and starts washing me.
His hands move over my body, touching every inch of skin like he's memorizing me.
He soaps up my shoulders, my arms, the curve of my waist. His fingers trail over my stomach, and I tense instinctively.
Old habit, old shame about the softness there, the stretch marks from pregnancy.
But Mason doesn't rush past it. Doesn't avoid it or treat it like something to hide. He takes his time, his palms flat against my belly, feeling the shape of me.
"This is where you carried Rosie," he says quietly. "Where you grew a whole person. That's fucking incredible, Lily. Your body did that. Created life. Sustained it. That's not something to be ashamed of."
I feel tears prick my eyes. Nobody's ever talked about my post-pregnancy body like that. Like it's something powerful instead of damaged. Like the changes are evidence of strength rather than failure to bounce back.
"Thank you," I whisper, because I don't know what else to say.
He just smiles and keeps washing me. His hands move up to my breasts, soaping them gently, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. Not sexual this time, though I feel my body respond anyway, just thorough. Caring.
He turns me around and washes my back, working the soap into my shoulders where I carry all my tension. His fingers find knots I didn't even know I had, working them loose with the right amount of pressure.
"Fuck, that feels good," I moan, my head dropping forward.
"You're tight everywhere," he observes, his hands moving down my spine. "When's the last time you relaxed? Actually relaxed?"
I try to think. Can't remember. "Probably before Rosie was born. Maybe even before that."
"That's what I thought." His hands reach my ass, and this time there's definitely something sexual in the touch. He squeezes, kneads, and I feel his cock stirring against my back. "We're going to fix that. Get you to relax. Let someone else carry the weight for once."
"I don't know how to do that," I admit.
"You'll learn." He turns me back around, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "I'll teach you. Starting now."
He washes my hair then, his fingers massaging my scalp in slow circles. It's the most intimate thing anyone's ever done for me. More intimate than sex somehow, this act of pure care with no expectation of anything in return.
I close my eyes and let him work, let myself feel good without guilt, let someone take care of me for the first time in longer than I can remember.
When he's done rinsing my hair, I take the soap from him. "My turn."
I wash him the same way he washed me—thoroughly, learning the landscape of his body.
The scars on his shoulder from the horse accident.
Smaller scars scattered across his back and chest that are probably from his military service, though I don't ask.
The thick muscles of his arms and chest from years of ranch work.
He's beautiful in that rugged, lived-in way. Not pretty or polished, but real. Strong. His body tells the story of his life. Every scar, every callus, every muscle earned through survival and hard work.
When I reach his cock, it's already half-hard again. I soap it up, stroking slowly, feeling it thicken in my hands.
"Careful," he warns, his voice rough. "Or we're never making it to Sarah's."
"Would that be so bad?" I look up at him through my lashes, squeezing gently.
"Yes, because you need that job." But he groans when I stroke him again. "And because Tucker's watching Rosie, and we can't take advantage of his generosity by fucking in the shower for the next three hours."
"Three hours?" I raise an eyebrow. "That's ambitious."
"You haven't seen ambitious yet." He grabs my wrist, stilling my movements. "But seriously, we need to stop. Need to get you to Sarah’s."
I pout but let go of his cock. He's right. As much as I want to stay in this shower with him forever, the real world is waiting. Responsibilities. Jobs. A daughter who needs stability more than I need another orgasm.
Though honestly, the way my body feels right now—thoroughly fucked, marked by his cum, muscles loose and satisfied, I don't think I could handle another round anyway. I'm deliciously sore in all the best ways.
Mason turns off the water and grabs towels from the cabinet. He wraps one around me first, drying me off with the same care he showed while washing me. Then he dries himself quickly, efficiently, like a man used to military routines and ranch schedules.
"I don't have any clean clothes here," I realize suddenly. "Everything's back at Wade's cottage."
"I've got a spare shirt you can wear." He's already heading into his bedroom, returning with a flannel that's going to be huge on me. "And we'll grab your stuff before going to Sarah's."
The flannel swallows me when I put it on. It hangs to mid-thigh, the sleeves going past my hands. I probably look ridiculous, but Mason's eyes heat when he sees me.
"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he growls.
"I look like a child playing dress-up."
"You look like mine." He pulls me close, his hands sliding under the flannel to grip my bare ass. "Like you're wearing my claim. And I fucking love it."
His possessiveness should probably concern me. We've known each other less than twenty-four hours. This is moving way too fast. But instead of fear, I feel... safe. Wanted. Like maybe for the first time in my life, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
"We really need to go," I say reluctantly, even as I press closer to him.
"Yeah." But he doesn't move. Just holds me, his chin resting on top of my head. "But for the record? This isn't a one-time thing, Lily. What just happened in that shower? That's the beginning. Not the end."
"Good," I whisper. "Because I don't think I could handle it being just once."
He kisses the top of my head. "Then it's settled. You're mine. I'm yours. We figure the rest out as we go."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He pulls back to look at me. "Life's too short for slow. I learned that in the military. You find something worth fighting for, you hold on tight and don't let go."
"And I'm worth fighting for?"
"You and Rosie both." His eyes are serious. "I know it's fast. Know we barely know each other. But I also know what I feel when I look at you. And I'm not walking away from that. Not unless you tell me to."
I should be scared. Should be putting up walls and protecting myself. But instead, I find myself nodding.
"Okay," I say. "Okay. Let's see where this goes."
His smile is brilliant. "Best decision you've made all day. Well, second best. First was getting on your knees for me in the bathroom."
I swat his chest, laughing. "You're impossible."
"And you love it." He grabs his own clothes. Jeans and a clean henley, and gets dressed quickly. "Come on. Let's get you that job so you can stop worrying about money and start focusing on what really matters."
"What really matters?"
He pulls me close one more time, his lips brushing mine. "Us. This. Building something real instead of just surviving."
And god help me, I believe him.