Chapter 11

Leah

The third cleaning job is a disaster and by the time we finish, it’s late and I’m exhausted.

Mason loads my cart and looks like he barely broke a sweat. He’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up, displaying yummy forearms, and his neatly slicked back hair is all disheveled. Strands have fallen into his eyes, making me bite back the urge to run my fingers through it.

He stretches, lifting his arms over his head, and groans. “How the hell do you clean like this every damn day? My arms feel like rubber noodles.”

I pass him a water out of my little cooler. “You get used to it.”

“I can’t believe this place was such a wreck.”

“The family bought the house to have somewhere to stay when visiting their son in college. He uses it way more often than they do and throws massive parties here. I’d bet ten bucks his parents will be arriving tomorrow morning.” Saying that much about another client feels like I’ve violated the terms of my contract with the cleaning service, but oh well. Mason just polished their sink drains and did a hell of a job getting dust bunnies and condom wrappers from under the beds, so he should at least get something for it.

“I honestly do not miss college.”

Me either. “Where did you go?”

“Yale.”

“Fancy.”

Mason arches a brow. “Is that code for boring, expensive, and pretentious?”

“Nope. Just fancy. I went to Penn State.” It might just be my imagination, but I swear it looks like he’s trying to hide his surprise. Standing up, I brush off my shirt and grab the cart so we can finally leave. “What? Can’t house cleaners have a college degree?”

He stares at me for a few heartbeats, all playfulness gone. “Why do you do that, Leah?”

“Do what?”

“It’s like you keep digging around, poking to see if I’ll say something rude about your line of work.”

His accusation is like a punch in the gut. He’s right. I have no idea why I keep doing it when he hasn’t once looked at me like I’m gum on his shoe.

“Sorry,” I say, quietly.

Mason grabs my hand, pulling me towards him. “Don’t be sorry. Be proud.”

“I am proud.” It’s just that sometimes I feel judged for my choices. And I’m no longer talking about cleaning, but he probably doesn’t realize that.

“You’re a hard worker.”

“So? Most people are when they have bills to pay. That’s nothing to be proud about. I’m adulting. Whoop-dee-woo.”

“I admire you, Leah.”

That’s laughable. “You admire me for scrubbing toilets and getting beer stains off couches? Not likely.”

“Yeah, I fucking do. This isn’t easy work, and it’s never ending. But this whole time you’ve been busting your ass with a smile on your face. You were even more lively at my house last week. You love this job. You’re great at it. And it’s really underappreciated.”

Taking a step back, I’m not sure what to say. He must read the look on my face because Mason doesn’t stop there.

“Love what you do, do what you love. That’s the dream, right?” He cups my face. “But that’s not the only thing that’s got me awestruck by you.”

“What else is there about me you like so much?” Please don’t say my tits .

“Your drive,” his gaze drifts all over my face, making me feel admired. “You seem to live so unapologetically. From your day job to your night job, you know exactly who you are, what you like, what you want, and fuck all else.”

He’s right. I’ll never let another person’s opinion steer the path I carve for myself. I almost cave and tell him my ultimate business plan but go with, “I imagine you’re the same way.”

His hand drops from my face. “I’m getting there.”

“You’re filthy rich, Mason. You’re already there.”

But is he happy? I hate how my heart clenches worrying that he isn’t.

I’m suddenly in memory overload, ticking off the things I’ve seen about him so far. His condo is empty. It doesn’t feel like a home at all, just a glorified hotel room, honestly. He has no pictures of family or friends hanging on his walls. He ate dinner alone, in the corner, at that restaurant the other night. He’s here with me now, when one may assume he has plenty of better places to be.

My gut twists with sadness.

“It’s hard being elite, Leah. Everyone either hates you or uses you. You don’t get genuine admiration or respect. It’s all a fa?ade so they can get something out of you.”

Cold words said in a frigid tone.

“I don’t want to get anything out of you,” I say in a rush, though why I’m defending myself, I have no clue.

“I believe that.” His tone warms. “And I’m not trying to get something out of you, either. I’m not trying to rent you.” He says in frustration. “I’m genuinely drawn to you.”

I get what he means because honestly? Same. I can’t seem to pull back from this guy. Even when I made him leave earlier, it felt awful, and I spent the entire time rage-cleaning because I was mad at myself for letting my insecurities get in the way of having fun. I called Mak and vented to her about everything, and she helped me pull my head out of my ass.

But when I saw him parked in the lot waiting for me after that?

Words cannot express my shock and relief. No matter how hard I try to mask my true feelings, there’s a chemistry here I don’t want to deny. Mason is too perfect for his own good. It’s scary because I don’t get attached. Having one-night stands is my mode of operation. This man? He’s not one-night stand material.

I have no idea what he is.

My heart skips when he reaches over and runs his fingers through my hair. Then he pulls out something from my frizzy tendrils and smiles. “You have a dust bunny in your hair.”

Blowing out the breath I was holding, I smack his arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

I smell like sweat, bleach, and glass cleaner. My head hurts a little. I’m tired. Mason’s not much better. We drive home in utter silence, but it’s nice. Comfortable.

“How about…” He pulls into his parking spot. “I draw you a nice hot bath?”

“I really should get home.”

“You promised me dinner, Princess.”

“Mason,” I sigh. I’m too tired to put up a fight, and too tired to eat.

He shuts the engine off and looks at me with a warm smile. “You pick the place. I’ll have it delivered. Deal?”

“I really should get going.”

“Why?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Which is why I want to draw you a bath. I have this wild invention called a bed too, so when you’re tired, you can sleep in that.”

His offer is a little pushy, but his bed is bigger, and his tub is definitely better than mine. It’s hard to resist those pleading eyes, too. “Okay.”

We make fast work of loading the cleaning supplies in my car and then head up to his place. Mason doesn’t say a word, but the slight smile curving his mouth is a dead giveaway that he’s happy.

I’ve never had someone like me enough to go through everything he has today.

It’s nice to feel special and worth the effort.

That’s my fault. I never let a guy get close enough to put in the effort. What makes Mason so special?

“After you,” he says, holding the door for me.

We head straight to the bathroom, Mason leading the way. He starts the massive tub for me, adding bath salts from a glass canister into the running hot water. Next, he pulls the hem of my shirt up and over my head.

Annnnd throws it in the trash.

“You’ve been dying to do that all day, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

Well, he’s not the only one who’s been dying to do something all day. Clutching the back of his neck, I smash my mouth to his while he unfastens my bra. This guy kisses with his whole being. It’s deep. Rough. Thorough.

I could easily get addicted to it.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Princess.” He hooks his fingers around my waistband and pulls my shorts and underwear down to my feet.

When he stares up at me from his knees, I swear the whole world stops spinning for a moment.

Then he kisses my soft belly, and I dig my fingers into his hair, relishing how good his hot mouth feels on my skin. Mason works his way up my body, licking, sucking, and nipping. When he draws my nipple into his mouth, I arch into him. “You feel so good.”

“You taste so good,” he counters, licking his way up to the spot on my neck that drives me insane.

It’s the only erogenous zone I think I have, and it makes me useless, embarrassingly fast. I groan while he alternates licking and kissing that spot on me. One more drag of his velvet tongue and my knees buckle.

“I’ve got you.” He picks me up and carries me over to the filled tub. “Step in carefully.”

My legs are still a little wobbly, but the instant I sink into the hot water, my body melts. “This is it. This is how I want to die.” I lean back and sigh while Mason turns off the faucet. “What a glorious way to go.”

“Too hot? Not hot enough?” He even dims the lights.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’ll get candles for next time. And bath bombs.”

As if I’m going to be taking baths at his place more often? Doubtful.

The moment I close my eyes, he asks. “What are you in the mood for?”

Your fat dick . “Cheese pizza and Root Beer from Tony’s Pizzeria.”

“Hell yeah, that sounds amazing.”

“With breadsticks.”

“Now we’re talking.” Mason kisses my forehead and leaves me alone in the bath while he places the order.

I can’t believe I’m taking a hot bath in Mason Finch’s tub. Closing my eyes, I refuse to overthink anything else tonight and just enjoy the luxury while it lasts. When I finally get out, the water’s cold and my fingers are wrinkly.

Holding onto the edge, I climb out of it, wincing when I accidentally press down on my cut.

Knock, knock. “Dinner’s ready, Prin—shit!” Mason’s rushing towards me with his arms out. “Wait. Whoa. Let me help you out. I don’t want you to slip.” He wraps me up in a huge fluffy towel and sets me on the step. “Let me see your hand.”

The bandage is soaked and falling off. “I think I fell asleep for a second and my hand went in the water.”

“Okay. Let’s get you fixed up.”

For all the freak out he had earlier, he’s calm as a cucumber now. Pulling out a small box from under his sink, he digs around and gets out the supplies. “Chase left us some extra stuff. Let me just get it all laid out first.”

He meticulously places tape, gauze, and ointment out on the counter. Kneeling before me, he carefully unwraps my hand and fixes me up in no time. The cut isn’t nearly as bad as I remember it being earlier.

Wow, I’m such a drama queen sometimes.

After he replaces the butterfly strips, Mason gently kisses my palm. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“There’s a change of clothes on my bed for you.”

Oh my god. “Okay. I’ll be right out.”

He leaves again, and I feel awkward and confused as I head into his bedroom. Those feelings disappear when a giggle bubbles out of me next. A Red Sox t-shirt and gym shorts lay on the bed.

They’re so soft and comfy. And they smell just like him. I think getting out of these clothes will be harder than getting out of that glorious bath. To be wrapped in Mason, smell like Mason…

He’s waiting for you to eat dinner. Hurry up !

Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I head into the main living space and see Mason plating the pizza in the kitchen. He takes one look at me and licks his lips as if I’m what he wants to eat for dinner.

“How the hell do you do it, Leah?”

“Do what?” I slide onto a stool at his breakfast bar.

“Look so fucking good in a priceless Red Sox t-shirt that I’m seriously debating on ripping the damned thing to shreds so I can see what you look like under it.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. This man is fantastic for my ego. “You already know what I look like.”

“Exactly.” He pushes a loaded plate towards me.

“ Priceless Red Sox shirt, huh?” I pluck the hem. “You really think highly of your baseball team, don’t you?”

“That’s my lucky Red Sox shirt.”

“Oh yeah? How’s it lucky?”

“The day my grandfather bought it for me was the day the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.”

“So it’s vintage?”

Mason freezes. Is he having a circuit malfunction? “That’s the year they broke the Curse of the Bambino.”

What the hell is he talking about? “So… Don’t get pizza sauce on it?”

His eyes blow wide with shock as he stumbles backwards, gawking at me. “You really know nothing about baseball?”

“There’s a stick, a ball, and some bases.” I take a sip of my soda. “And hot dogs.”

His jaw drops. “Why is my dick hard right now? What magical sorcery have you put me under that this can be turning me on?”

“The curse of the great Bimbino strikes again.”

“Bam. Bam bino. Oh my god.” He storms over and kisses me so hard, our teeth clack. Laughter tears out of me because it’s like getting all the sport stuff wrong is his ultimate hot button.

Guys are so weird.

“This is crazy,” he rumbles in my ear before giving me a nice hand necklace. “You keep driving me wild in the craziest ways.”

Well, he keeps driving me wild, so we’re both winning.

I’ve had a lot of men and women look at me like I’m a fantasy come to life. Part of my camgirl job is to give the illusion that they’re my one and only. To make them feel like what they’re saying or doing on the other side of the screen turns me on, gets me off. It makes them feel special.

I’m not pretending with Mason.

And that scares me.

We’re having fun together right now because I’m his shiny new toy and he’s convenient. What happens when the game ends? I can’t imagine us ever getting serious, so I won’t even go there hypothetically.

Before Mason can take things further, I pull back. “We’re both taking a big risk here, Mason.”

His dark eyes soften a fraction. “I know.”

“Do you? Because you’ve thrown yourself at me pretty recklessly.” The instant I say those words, guilt smacks me in the face, making my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Not that I mean you’re being a pick me or anything like that. It’s just—” Shit, I don’t know how to say any of this nicely.

“No, I get it.” He steps back. “I go full throttle with anything I want.”

“That’s not a bad thing, but we’re really playing with fire here. I could lose my job if the company finds out I’m banging a client. And you...” My words fade as I think of what his family will say if they find out he’s dating a housecleaner who moonlights in the sex industry. This is the first time in a long while I’ve felt shame for being myself and I don’t like it.

“I’m a big boy, Leah. I know what I’m doing and what the consequences of each of my actions are.”

Yeah, but you’re not the one who could lose the job you love. You’re not the one who will be seen as a gold digger in this relationship. You’re not the one who’s living a double life—sweeping floors by day and sticking their painted pink toes in honey at night.

Fuck, there I go again, letting my head do all the talking when I should let my pussy have a say once in a while. Why should I give a shit what people think about me? Mason and I are just having fun. This isn’t forever, it’s for now. Everyone else should mind their damn business.

Mason’s right, he’s a big boy. He knows what he’s doing and can accept the consequences of his actions.

But I’m not sure I can.

“We gotta keep this a secret, X.”

Disappointment spreads across his features and down his body until he’s a hard-staring, rigid-shouldered, tragic-looking Greek statue. But in the end, he concedes. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

Good. This is… good .

Right?