Chapter 27
Mason
The hotel’s nicer than I expected.
Soft music hums somewhere overhead. The lobby smells like citrus and the floors shine like they’re polished every hour on the hour.
Megan pauses just inside the doors, her hand slipping into mine.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Mase…this is fancy.”
I shrug, trying to play it off like I didn’t spend way too long deciding whether this place was “too much” or “not enough.”
We make our way to our room, and I swipe the key card and push the door open, half expecting something to go wrong. An error, the wrong room, the disappointment that comes from hyping something up too much.
Warm light spills out, soft and golden, like the room’s already inviting us in. Megan steps in behind me and stops.
“Oh,” she breathes again. And that reaction is worth every penny.
The room opens up wide, more space than I thought. A sitting area near the window, city lights just starting to flicker on outside. A massive bed dressed in crisp white sheets that look untouched and entirely too tempting. And just past a half-wall…
A huge tub.
Megan’s hand shifts in mine, her thumb dragging slowly across my knuckle.
“Mase,” she says again, quieter now. “This is…really fancy.”
I shrug, trying to act casual even though my pulse has picked up. “Nice, isn’t it?”
She tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Since when do you book places like this?”
“Since I fell in love with you and changed your last name.” I nudge her playfully, and her cheeks hold a slight blush.
She laughs a soft, breathy laugh that still makes my chest tighten.
She lets go of my hand and walks farther into the room, checking out the closets, the bathroom, the mini fridge.
“Oooh,” she says. “It’s got all kinds of goodies.”
“I fear you’re not gonna wanna leave.” I laugh.
“We’ll see,” she teases and kicks off her shoes, padding across the carpet barefoot.
When she reaches the bed, she flops backwards dramatically onto it, arms spread wide, blonde hair spilling across the pillows.
“Oh wow,” she says. “This is comfy.”
I join her, sitting on the edge.
“Yeah? Good,” I murmur.
Her lips curve. “I still can’t believe you booked the room with the tub.” She laughs a little harder than before.
“I thought it could make things fun.” I laugh.
“Oh, it will.”
I lean down. “Yeah.” I brush my mouth near hers. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” I murmur and kiss her.
She exhales, long and slow, like her body’s already giving in. And whatever plans I had for pacing this weekend are already unraveling.
* * *
Room service smells like heaven. I wheel the cart in. Megan’s on the bed, robe half on, half off, hair loose now like she’s officially decided we’re not going anywhere tonight.
We carry plates straight to the bed. The TV’s on—some movie she picked. We carefully balance our plates on our laps, and I watch her take a bite and sigh like it’s the best chicken she’s ever had.
“This reminds me of our honeymoon.”
I smile. “Because of the food?”
“No,” she says. “Because we ate in bed. And watched movies. And couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.”
I lift a brow and smirk. “We were newlyweds.”
“We were feral,” she corrects, laughing.
I chuckle, reaching for a fry. “That first night…”
She groans softly, tipping her head back against the pillows. “Oh my gosh. Don’t.”
“You started it.”
She peeks at me, eyes bright. “I just remember thinking, Wow, this is not how the movies made it look.”
I laugh outright. “Yeah, well, you kept laughing.”
“I was nervous,” she defends. “And tired. And it was still good, just…awkward.”
“Awkward?” I grin. “You kneed me in the—”
“By accident!”
“Twice, sweetheart. Let’s not forget that.”
She laughs, nudging my shoulder. “Okay, fine. But look at us now.”
I glance down at her, robe slipping off one shoulder. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “We’ve figured a few things out.”
She hums, satisfied. “Practice helps.”
I smile and lean in, brushing my mouth near her temple. “We’ve sure done a lot of that.”
She laughs and shifts closer, her leg sliding over mine. The movie keeps playing, the glow from the TV washing over her face.
“You did good,” she says softly, tracing a slow line along my arm. “This. All of this.”
“I wanted you to feel…taken care of,” I admit. “No schedules. No expectations. Just us.”
She turns her head to look at me then. The teasing eases into something deeper, steadier. She sets her plate on her side table and then grabs mine, doing the same. My heart picks up, like it always does when she’s making the first move.
She grins playfully. “I always feel taken care of with you.”
That makes me feel good. My hand slides to her waist, thumbs brushing the tie of her robe—not pulling, just resting there—before I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Then closer to her jaw, then a little further, enough that she tilts her head just slightly for me to reach her neck.
The movie dialogue fades under the sound of our breathing.
“I love you,” I say against her skin.
She turns fully into me, her smile soft and certain. “I love you too.”
Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, tugging me closer.
And for the first time in a while, the world feels far away. We’re exactly where we’re meant to be.