Chapter 18

18

Chloe

The wooden spoon was practically an extension of my hand as I stirred the simmering pot, a rich tomato sauce bubbling away. My other hand tucked a stray blonde lock behind my ear, only for it to fall forward again. Abby was absorbed in her coloring, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she worked on a horse that was going to be, by her declaration, rainbow-colored.

I heard the front door open and close, and my heart did a little pitter patter at the knowledge Mason was home.

“Smells good, Chlo,” he said, entering the kitchen. His voice was the deep rumble of distant thunder, comforting and familiar.

“Thanks.” I smiled, but didn’t let my eyes linger, though I could feel his presence like a warm patch of sunlight, drawing my attention away from the stove. His boots clomped softly on the wood floor, hesitant, as if he carried the weight of more than just the day’s dust on them.

“Whatcha making?” Abby piped up without looking up, her crayon making a wide arc of purple on the page .

“Spaghetti,” I replied, with a smile in my voice. It had become our Friday ritual—dinner at Mason’s, always spaghetti, yet no one ever seemed to tire of it.

“Hey, jellybean,” Mason murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of Abby’s head, his eyes still fixed on me for a moment too long. There was a question in them, something flickering beneath the surface that sent a tiny shiver down my spine.

“Go take a shower, stinky,” Abby commanded, scrunching up her nose dramatically.

“Right you are, commander.” He straightened up, chuckling, and shot me another glance. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Sure, no rush.” But as he disappeared upstairs, my heart did a little tap dance against my ribs. What was that look about?

I focused back on the pot, the steam fogging up the windows a little, creating a cozy sort of seclusion from the world outside. Still, all I could think about was the water that would soon be cascading over him, the way his hair would cling to his forehead afterward, those gray eyes of his coming back downstairs with whatever secrets they held shimmering behind them.

Anticipation and curiosity swirled in my stomach like the steam rising from the pot. I gave the sauce another stir, reminding myself to breathe. After a while, I realized I’d been daydreaming and didn’t know how long I’d been standing there stirring. Hot cowboys did that to you, sometimes, I guess. I turned off the burner.

“Okay, Abs, your dad will be down soon, so go wash up for dinner.”

“But my horsie isn’t finished.”

“Then you’ll have something to look forward to later.”

“Fiiiine.” She slumped her way to the downstairs bathroom to wash her hands and I chuckled .

The clink of cutlery against the ceramic bowls filled the kitchen as I plated dinner, trying to ignore how the butterflies in my stomach were doing somersaults. The sound of footsteps descending the stairs snapped me back to the present, and I glanced over to see Mason re-entering the room.

“This looks amazing,” he said, a towel draped casually around his neck, his damp hair tousled in that just-showered look that somehow made him look both more put together and entirely too tempting.

“I hope you like it,” I replied, my voice betraying none of the chaos he stirred within me. There was a new strength in his posture, a certain squareness to his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

“I always like it.” His grin was infectious, the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth.

“Everyone likes spaghetti night,” I teased, setting the table. Abby beamed up at her dad, her coloring forgotten as she surveyed the feast before her.

“Best night of the week!” She bounced in her chair, excitement shimmering around her like a halo.

We settled into our seats, the domesticity a comforting blanket, albeit one laced with electric currents every time Mason’s gaze met mine. Dinner unfolded with a rhythm we had mastered over countless Fridays—forks scraping, Abby’s chattering about her day at school, laughter punctuating the air.

“Did you see the new horse, Abby?” I asked, watching her face light up. Mason had me drop her off at the ranch yesterday after her piano lesson so he could introduce her to a new mare they’d bought for the Therapy Division. Apparently, she was the gentlest soul.

“Uh-huh! Daddy lifted me up so I could pet her nose!” She demonstrated the height with her hands, stretching them as far as they’d go.

“Sounds like you’ve got a future horse whisperer on your hands,” I said to Mason, who watched his daughter with unabashed pride.

“Reckon I do,” he agreed, his gray eyes flickering to mine with an intensity that sent a thrill racing through me.

There it was again, that magnetic pull tugging at the space between us. I focused on my plate, willing my cheeks not to betray the heat I felt creeping into them.

“Chloe’s really good with Sunshine, too,” Abby chimed in, referring to Eryn’s prize mare. “Sunshine always does what she says.”

“Well, I’m learning. Sunshine is an easy horse to learn on.”

“Sounds like Chloe’s pretty special, huh?” Mason’s voice was soft, for my ears only, and I dared to look up. Our eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world fell away. It was just us, understanding passing silently between us.

“Can we watch my show after dinner?” Abby’s voice cut through the tension.

“Only after you’ve picked up your room, munchkin.” Mason’s gaze was affectionate but firm, and he nodded toward the stairs. “You left quite the toy army all over your floor up there.”

Abby groaned, a playful pout forming. “Okay,” she sighed dramatically, though the twinkle in her eye told me she didn’t mind too much.

“Then it’s dessert,” he promised, and her grin returned full force.

“Chocolate pudding!” she squealed, and I couldn’t help but join in her excitement .

“Chocolate pudding,” I echoed, smiling across the table at Mason as I started to clear the table.

“Deal,” Mason chuckled, giving her a high-five that sent her giggling all the way to the staircase.

The moment the upstairs door clicked shut, the air between us shifted, charged like the sky before a storm. Then, without warning, Mason was crossing the kitchen, his strides purposeful.

“Mason, what?—”

My words were swallowed by the sudden press of his lips against mine, an urgency in his kiss that rooted me to the spot. The world narrowed down to the warmth of his mouth moving over mine, coaxing, demanding, a dance of unspoken needs.

My fingers found their way into the dark silk of his damp hair, tugging him closer as if I could somehow meld into him. His taste was intoxicating, a mix of spices from dinner and the lingering mint of his toothpaste. There was no room for thought, only feeling—the electric connection that sizzled along my nerves, lighting me up from the inside out.

We broke apart, breathless, his gray eyes searching mine in the quiet aftermath. This wasn’t just a brush of attraction; this was a forest fire, wild and consuming. And I was more than ready to burn.

Mason’s arms wrapped around me, strong and sure, lifting me as if I were no more than a feather. My heart hammered in my chest, echoing the thud as he set me onto the cold kitchen counter. His body pressed into mine, heat searing through the thin fabric of my blouse, branding me with an urgency that was almost frightening in its intensity.

“Chlo,” he murmured against my lips, a growl of longing threaded through his voice.

My hands explored the expanse of his back, muscles rippling beneath my touch. The world outside this kitchen, outside the circle of his arms, was a distant memory. There was only Mason—his scent, his heat, his raw presence overwhelming every sense.

His hands began to roam, tracing the curve of my waist, igniting sparks everywhere he touched. Fingertips grazed my skin, sending shivers cascading down my spine. I arched into him, a silent plea for more.

“God, Chloe. I need to taste you,” he whispered, his voice husky. Each word dripped with desire, stirring something deep within me—a flame, a hunger, a need I couldn’t name but couldn’t deny. “I meant to come home and talk with you. Tell you how I’ve been feelin’.” He bit my neck, then soothed it with his tongue.

“How’s that going?”

He laughed against my cheek, then kissed down it to nibble on my ear. “It ain’t goin’ to plan, that’s for sure.”

With one hand, he pushed my knees apart and slid his hand up my skirt, pushing my panties to the side without an ounce of restraint. His fingers traced my core, teasing me.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.”

“Please, Mase,” I breathed out, not entirely sure what I was asking for, only knowing I needed him closer, deeper, everywhere.

Mason shifted, and he pulled up a chair and dropped down onto it, lining his face up with my pussy.

He leaned forward, holding the fabric to the side with one hand, and using his other to slip two fingers into me. His tongue shot out and licked a steady rhythm on my clit.

A soft gasp escaped me, and I felt the vibration of his moan. It was like being caught in a sweet, dizzying whirlwind.

“Never felt anything like this,” I confessed, the admission slipping out amidst the chaos .

“Good,” he mumbled against me.

His mouth moved expertly over me, tongue swirling and lips sucking in just the right way to make pleasure surge through every inch of me. My fingers tangled in his dark hair, anchoring myself as the sensations built to a fever pitch.

I was barely aware of the whimpers and gasps spilling from my lips, lost in the intoxication of his touch. The counter edge dug into my ass, but I embraced the delicious contrast of pain and pleasure.

“That’s it baby, let go for me,” Mason murmured, his hot breath against my sensitive flesh sending me reeling. His fingers curled inside me and his tongue flicked over my clit with more urgency.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until finally it snapped, my orgasm crashing over me in waves of dizzying ecstasy. I whispered his name, my back arching as he continued to lap up every ounce of pleasure.

My breaths came in ragged gasps as I returned to earth, my limbs still trembling from the aftershocks. Mason rose, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh before meeting my dazed eyes.

“You are so fucking beautiful when you come, Chloe.”

I couldn’t respond except for what sounded like a strangled moan.

“You okay?” he asked, though the satisfied smirk playing about his lips told me he already knew the answer.

I managed a weak nod, not quite trusting my voice yet. He chuckled, low and deep, the sound sending an involuntary shiver through me.

“Hey.” He stood between my legs and rested his forehead against mine. “Stay with me tonight.”

I felt my head nodding automatically. But before I could form a coherent thought, footsteps on the stairs jolted us back to reality. We broke apart in a scramble, Mason turning to busy himself at the sink while I smoothed my skirt and slid off the counter on shaky legs.

Just in time, as Abby bounded into view, her grin bright with innocent excitement. “I put all my toys away! Can we have dessert now?”