Chapter 21

21

Mason

The sun had dipped behind the rolling hills of Whittier Falls, and the last golden streaks of light faded into a deep indigo as I pushed open the door to my house. My muscles ached from a long day of wrangling horses and cattle at Red Downs, but the weariness was quickly forgotten as the aroma of roasted chicken wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Abby must’ve helped with dinner; she loved sneaking in extra rosemary.

“Smells like heaven in here,” I murmured, my voice rough from the dust and shouting commands over the noise of the ranch.

“Wait ’til you taste it,” came a soft voice from the shadowed corner of the kitchen. Chloe stepped into the dim light, her blonde hair catching the last bit of twilight that seeped through the window. She wore a yellow dress that brushed against her knees, and I noticed how it contrasted sharply with her crystal blue eyes. Staring at her would never get old.

“Chlo,” I greeted, my heart doing that odd little skip whenever she was near. “You cook all this? ”

She nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I found endearing. “I did. But, uh, I won’t be joining you for dinner.” Her eyes dropped to the floor, and I heard the hesitation in her voice. It was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of unspoken words between us.

“Oh?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the sudden tightness in my chest. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, Mase.” She gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her blue eyes. “Just . . . come find me later.”

“Of course.” I agreed without a second thought. The mystery of her request gnawed at me, stirring a mix of concern and curiosity. I watched her say goodbye to Abby and promise to take her to get a muffin before school tomorrow, and then she was gone out the back door.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. We didn’t eat every dinner together, after all. But I was gettin’ used to having her here, and the sight of her retreating back did things to my insides I wasn’t quite sure I liked.

“Look, Daddy!” Abby’s little hands waved a colorful drawing in the air as I sat down at the kitchen table. “I made this for you!”

“Let’s see it, bug.” I took the paper, my fatigue washing away with her enthusiasm. It was a house, our house, with three stick figures holding hands under a big, loopy sun. “This is amazing. You’re quite the artist.”

Abby beamed, climbing onto the chair beside me. Her brown curls bounced as she settled in. “Miss Parker says we should draw what makes us happy. And I’m happy when I’m home with you and Chloe.”

My heart did a somersault. If pride were a tangible thing, it’d be busting through the roof.

“Tell me about your day,” I said, spooning some of Chloe’s mashed potatoes onto Abby’s plate .

“Okay!” She kicked her feet, not yet reaching the floor. “So, Missy and I played tag during recess, but then—oh! Then Tommy brought out chalk, and we all drew on the sidewalk!”

“Sounds like a party.” I laughed, digging into my own food. The chicken was tender, falling apart at the touch of my fork—a testament to Chloe’s cooking skills. “Did you win at tag?”

“Uh-huh.” A proud nod. “But don’t tell Missy. She thinks she won.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I winked at her, and she giggled, a sound that filled the room like the warmth from the oven.

“Also,” she continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “we saw a squirrel, and it was doing this—“ She wiggled her fingers by her head, imitating squirrel ears.

“Doing that?” I mirrored her actions, pretending to be clueless.

“Yesss!” She laughed harder, her joy contagious. “Daddy, you’re funny.”

“Only the best for you, kiddo.” I ruffled her hair gently, watching her tackle her dinner with gusto. Each of her stories was a gem, a little window into her world that she shared freely with me.

“Abby,” I ventured after a while, “did Chloe say anything to you? About not staying for dinner tonight?”

She chewed on a green bean, pondering. “Hmm, nope. But she did give me an extra cookie after school.”

“An extra cookie, huh?” I raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on my lips. “That sounds like bribery to me.”

“Maybe . . .” Abby tapped her chin theatrically, and then shrugged with exaggerated innocence. “I guess I’m just lovable.”

I practically snorted. This kid killed me sometimes. “Guess so,” I agreed, chuckling. The simplicity of our dinner, the chatter, her laughter—it was home in its purest form. And two months ago, it would have been all I wanted. But tonight, all I could think about was how one of us was missing. This right here was everything, and I knew now, deep in my bones, that I wanted Chloe to be a part of it. A part of us.

“Ready for the toothbrush tango, princess?”

“Race you!” she squealed, darting from the couch, up the stairs towards the bathroom.

“Hey, no head starts!” I called after her, my voice full of feigned shock. It was our little routine, and she cackled, knowing she’d won before we even began.

In the bathroom, the minty foam of toothpaste splattered the mirror as she brushed with more enthusiasm than technique. I steadied her hand, guiding it in gentle circles. “Gotta get those back teeth, bug.”

“Like this?” She opened wide, eyes crinkling with effort.

“Perfect.” My heart did that thing again, swelling to twice its size just watching her try so hard.

“Your turn, Daddy!”

“Alright, alright.” I took up my own brush, the extra one I kept in the hall bathroom for just this reason, and we made faces at each other in the mirror, our reflections like some funny father-daughter sitcom.

Pajama time was next. She chose the ones with horses galloping across a pink fabric prairie. Of course. Tucked in under her ‘galaxy’ sheets – because space was this month’s fascination—I planted that soft kiss on her forehead, lingering a moment longer in the quiet.

“Love you to the moon and back,” I whispered .

“An’ all the stars too,” she murmured, already halfway to dreamland.

“Every single one.” My voice was a mere breath as I flicked on the nightlight, casting shadows of dancing horses around the walls.

Once her breathing settled into the deep, even rhythms of sleep, I lingered in the doorway. Chloe’s earlier whisper echoed in my mind, pulling me toward something unknown but electric. I grabbed the old baby monitor from the top shelf in the closet, turning it on and seeing the video of Abby appear on the small screen.

“Always good to have a backup plan,” I muttered to myself.

The night air was cool, carrying the scent of wet earth. The gravel path crunched underfoot as I moved with purpose towards the cottage where Chloe waited.

The porch light spilled out, casting a warm glow on the path ahead. Every step felt charged, like the buildup before a storm, and I was ready to be caught in the rain.

The door opened before I reached it. Light pooled around Chloe’s silhouette, spilling from the cottage like a beacon guiding me through the encroaching night. There she was, framed by the wooden doorway, a picture of warmth and quiet strength.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried in the stillness between us.

“Well, hi, baby.” My boots thudded against the wooden steps, close enough now to see the way her eyes caught the light, glinting with something that made my heart skip a beat. My hands reached for her, grasping onto her hips with eager fingers. She tilted up to greet me, our lips colliding in a too-quick kiss.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Couldn’t stay away if I tried.” The words tumbled out, raw and honest. I leaned my forehead against hers. “Something about you draws me close.”

Her smile grew, a slow spread of lips that did funny things to my insides. “I missed you.” Her confession was so hushed it might have been carried away on the wind, but it imprinted itself on me, fierce and indelible.

“Missed you too,” I admitted, feeling the weight of those words settle into the space between us, heavy and charged with promise. It was like stating the obvious—the sky is blue, the grass is green, and I’m drawn to Chloe Beecham like a moth to flame. “More than I thought possible.” The admission felt like a risk, but one look at her, bathed in the glow of her cottage light, made it clear it was a risk worth taking.

The space between us was electric, charged with every unspoken word and longing glance we’d traded over the past weeks. She pulled me inside and closed the door behind us. I grabbed her again, drawn in by the pull of her blue eyes, the kind that could light up the darkest of nights.

“Chlo,” I breathed out, just before my lips found hers once more.

“Finally,” she whispered against me, a feather-light confession that stoked the flame within me.

Our kiss deepened, a dance of need and affirmation. Her hands, tentative but sure, wound around my neck, pulling me closer. I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat against my chest, as syncopated and wild as the pounding in my own ears.

“Chloe,” I murmured when we finally broke apart for air, the name tasting like sweet fire on my tongue. The way she looked at me then, bold and wanting, it flipped some switch inside me, turning desire into something more desperate, more urgent.

She leaned back, a challenge glinting in her gaze. “Show me, Mason. ”

“Show you?” I pressed my forehead against hers again, trying to catch my breath, trying to steady the whirlwind she stirred in me.

“How much you missed me.” Her voice, usually so soft, now thrummed with a new-found edge of command.

“God, Chlo . . .” My hands found her ass, gripping it tightly. “You have no idea.”

“Then make me feel it,” she dared, her words wrapping around me, binding me to this moment, to her.

And I did. I kissed her, poured every ounce of pent-up yearning into it. The world outside her cottage, with its quiet streets and sleeping houses, might as well have been a million miles away. There was only Chloe—her taste, her touch, her heat.

“More,” she gasped, breaking the kiss only long enough to draw me closer with a strength that belied her petite frame.

“Anything,” I promised, my voice husky with the promise of what was about to unfold.

“Everything,” she insisted, and I knew then, I was hers for the taking—heart, body, and soul.

My hands roamed over Chloe’s body, rough and urgent, every touch igniting sparks that threatened to set us ablaze.

“Baby,” I breathed out, my voice a low growl against her skin as I traced the scars on her back, a reminder of the battles she’d survived. Her response was a whimper, high and desperate, that sent my senses reeling.

“More,” she pleaded, and her fingers dug into my shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of my shirt, urging me on.

“Everything you want,” I said, and it was more than a promise—it was a vow, one that echoed in the space around us, thick with need and desire. Our movements became frenzied then, rushed and feral.

We stripped our clothes off, flinging them away so that nothing stood between us. She gripped my cock, hard and throbbing in her tiny hand.

“I want you to make me yours, Mason. Tell me what you want.”

I had to breathe deep to not shoot my load all over her in that moment.

“Fuck, baby. I want to feel your mouth around my cock. I’ve been dying to feel it. You think you could do that for me?”

Her face lit up in a devilish grin as she sank to her knees and took the tip of me into her mouth. My sweet, shy Chloe was now a sex vixen and I couldn’t get enough.

She teased me with her tongue, using her lips to suck around the head. But after a minute, she took me deep, as deep as she could go, and I felt her swallowing around me, choking on my length.

“Oh god, that’s it. That’s real good, baby.”

She bobbed her head up and down, her tongue swirling around my shaft, teasing every nerve ending as she went. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The woman who blushed when I looked at her was now on her knees in front of me, sucking my cock like a pro. Fuck, it felt so good. Too good.

“Damn, Chloe,” I groaned, her name a prayer on my lips as she took me even deeper, swallowing every last inch of me with practiced ease. Her eyes locked with mine, and in them, I saw a previously untapped well of desire and need. She was exactly as I’d imagined—fiery and passionate, her shyness nowhere to be found.

“God, baby,” I groaned, my hips involuntarily thrusting into her warm, wet mouth. Chloe moaned around me, the vibrations against my shaft sending shivers down my spine. “You’re too damn good at this.”

Her response was a muffled giggle, and damn if that didn’t make me harder. I cupped her head, gently guiding her speed, relishing in the way she took me in stride. Chloe was an enigma, a sexy, captivating enigma that I couldn’t get enough of.

“Chloe,” I groaned, my voice barely recognizable. “You’re gonna make me come.”

She pulled back with a pop, a trail of saliva connecting us for a brief moment before it broke.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her breath hot against my cock. “I want you inside me first.”

Her lips were swollen, and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink hue. She looked up at me through her eyelashes, and I had to close my eyes to stop me from coming all over her pretty face.

In one smooth motion I lifted her up, relishing her squeal of surprise. Her legs wrapped around my waist instinctively as I pushed her against the wall, sliding inside her with one hard thrust.

She called out my name and it was Heaven to my ears.

“I love the way you feel inside me.”

I kissed and nipped her neck as I began to pump into her. “Yeah? You like the way this cock feels?”

Her moans and sighs spurred me on and I quickened my pace, pounding her into the wall now.

“Oh, God, Mason,” Chloe gasped, her nails digging into my back as I drove relentlessly into her. She enveloped me, and the heat between us threatened to combust the room around us. “Oh God . . .”

“That’s it, baby,” I grunted, my own control hanging by a rapidly fraying thread. “Your cunt is so damn tight, so wet for me. Come for me, Chloe.”

Her response was lost in a strangled moan as she clenched around me, her orgasm barreling over her in hot, shuddering waves. It was all the encouragement I needed. With a final deep thrust, I found my own release, spilling my release deep within her.

We remained entwined for a moment longer, panting and breathless, our hearts hammering in time. I kissed her lips, then her nose, then her forehead, before moving us away from the wall and pulling out of her with a groan. She slid down my legs, but held onto me for balance.

I guided us to the bed and pulled her down with me, wrapping my arms around her as she nuzzled close.

“Chlo,” I managed, barely able to form thoughts, let alone words. Our gazes locked, blue on gray, and something unspoken passed between us—something fierce and tender and terrifyingly real.

“Wow,” she murmured, her voice a feather on my skin. Her fingers traced idle patterns over my chest, each touch sending aftershocks down my spine.

“Chlo, that was . . .” Words failed me. How could I describe something that had shaken me to the core, that had redefined what it meant to connect with another soul?

“Shh,” she hushed, her lips curving into a tired but contented smile. “No need for words, Mase.”

Her head found its place on my shoulder, fitting as naturally as if it were crafted just for this moment. The air in the cottage was heavy with the scent of us, an intoxicating reminder of the passion shared. My fingers combed through her blonde hair, pushing it back to reveal that scar—her silent badge of survival and strength.

“Come stay with me tonight?” I asked, a hint of vulnerability lacing my tone. We both knew as much as I’d love to drift off here with her, I couldn’t leave Abby alone in the big house.

“I’d love to,” she answered, her hand coming to rest over my heart, as if she could feel the rapid pace it still kept at her touch .

“Good.” I exhaled, feeling muscles I didn’t even know were tense start to relax. For a guy who spent his days being sure-footed, Chloe Beecham had an uncanny ability to sweep me off them completely.

“Promise me something, Mase,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to meet mine, those blue eyes capturing me whole.

“Anything,” I replied without hesitation.

“Promise we’ll figure this out, whatever this is . . .” She trailed off, but I understood.

“I promise, Chlo.” And I meant it. I’d already figured it out. I was in love with Chloe and I wanted her forever. There was no turning back now, not when every fiber of my being screamed that she was worth every bit of the mess we might have to wade through.

“Good,” she echoed my earlier sentiment, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a sleepy grin. “Because I’m not sure I can let you go now.”

Laughter bubbled up from within me—a deep, genuine chuckle. “Baby, I wouldn’t let you, even if you tried.”

The room settled around us, the silence no longer heavy but comforting, like a well-worn blanket. Outside, the night continued on, oblivious to the shift that had occurred within these four walls. But for Chloe and me, everything had changed, and somehow, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, that felt exactly right.