Chapter 38

Winnie

A n hour later, there’s nothing left to break and as Mason and I leave behind the rubble we’ve created, I’m panting and sweaty and feeling fantastic .

We’re back in the hall, and are silent as we pull off our goggles and strip out of the jumpsuits and drop them into the waiting basket.

“How was that?” Mason touches my face, wiping away my tears. Cathartic tears. “Are you okay?”

I laugh. “Better than ever. I just… really needed that.” I let out a deep, satisfied sigh that shakes my whole body. “Would you think I was totally twisted if I said that that was some of the most fun I’ve ever had in my life?”

He grins, but I mean it. It really was.

“I just wish that,” I add wistfully, “that godawful recliner would’ve been here so I could take the pickaxe to it.”

“Actually,” Mason says, trailing his fingers down the side of my face. “That’s Part Two of your surprise. Devin has it set up out back. In the Burn Zone. I thought you might want to douse it with gasoline and throw a match on it. Watch that fucker burn.”

I grin. “Oh, Mason Hammer. You say the most romantic things.”

But I realize, then… I don’t give a shit about the recliner anymore. This has been so much fun, but… now I want another kind of fun for Part Two.

I shake my head. “I really, really appreciate it, Mace. I have had a freaking blast. But… tell Devin to let someone else take their trauma out on it, okay?”

Mason gives me a quizzical look. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” I stand on my tiptoes, stretching, stretching, to press my forehead against his. “I’m in the mood for another kind of smashing,” I add with a giggle.

Yep, we don’t need to light any matches. There’s pure fire in Mason’s eyes. He grabs my hand and practically drags me into the hall.

“Lindsey, we’re headed to our decompression lounge, now.”

“Sounds good, kids!” her voice floats back. “All the drinks and snacks in the basket on the table are yours, but if you need anything else, give us a shout!”

Mason squeezes my hand and leads me down the hall and through another door to the decompression lounge.

Our lounge is just as cool as the smash room was, but an entirely different vibe. Calming, with soft music; comforting, with large plush couches; and surprisingly cool, with a sleek red and black pool table as the centerpiece.

The door latches behind us with a thud and a satisfying click, and the sounds of the public world vanish, leaving only the soft hum of the lights above us.

Alone together at last. It feels like the silence is amplifying my anticipation as Mason’s eyes lock on mine. His gaze is so intense, as if he is trying to drink up the sight of me before I disappear, like I’m a mirage.

I waggle my brows. “Ever made out on a pool table, Hammer?”

He bursts out laughing, breaking the intensity of his gaze, and heads over to one of the low tables, and the gift basket on top.

“What?” I ask, following. “Is that, like, your speciality or something?”

“No, but… that is my pool table.” He grabs an energy drink and cracks it open, passing it to me before doing the same for himself. “Devin’s keeping it for me until I figure out where I’m going to land eventually.”

He clinks our cans together before chugging at least half of his in one go.

But the statement hits me in the gut and the heart, twice over, as his words sink in. “Are you thinking about going back to LA?”

He lowers the can, opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say a word, I shake my head.

“No, never mind. I don’t want to talk about ‘eventually.’ We’re living in the moment, right?”

“We are,” he says .

“Good. Because right now, in this exact moment, I want to make out on your pool table.”

A sexy grin slides over his face, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, do you? Well, I can help with that.”

When he picks me up and sets me on the edge of the pool table, placing himself between my thighs, the rich yet delicate sandalwood scent of him fills my senses, heady and familiar.

“You’re mine all mine, Cupcake,” he whispers, his thumbs digging possessively into my thighs.

I shiver, loving it, and I’m thrown back to our first kiss in the kitchen, when I sat on the counter and he touched my thighs. It feels like a lifetime ago already, what with everything that has changed since then— the most important change being myself. I was so embarrassed by my body as he kissed me, then, unable to see past the lumps and rolls to really open up to him.

I’m not by any means as confident as Goldie now, but I embrace the moment and place my hands over his.

“And what do you plan to do to me?” I challenge.

He grins and slides his hands all over my body. “Savor you. Every single inch of you.”

With my hands atop his his, I feel him as he feels me. The fire in his eyes burns brighter the longer I allow him to explore. He skims his hands under my shirt, over my stomach and around my breasts. And it feels fucking good . When his hands reach my nipples and his breath hitches, I let out a tiny sound.

“Fuck, Win.” And then his lips collide with mine .

Our mouths instantly meld together, our tongues entwining. His touch ignites me, warmth trailing everywhere his hands explore. He squeezes, fingers dancing wild patterns along my thighs. He pinches and teases and grabs my flesh.

I try not to think that he’s holding on to me like this, and kissing with such intensity, as if to keep me from slipping away.

Well, I’m not going anywhere. I tell him that as best I can with my body and mouth. I lose myself in the intensity, shedding any last concerns about being too much or too anything for him. All that matters is the exquisite sensation of our kiss, just like our kiss weeks ago, but this time with a fresh layer of deliciousness and urgency added to it.

“ Winnie .” His teeth graze my bottom lip, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb, pressing into my skin, teases as he works his way between my legs.

I moan approvingly and tilt my hips toward him.

But as a groan pulls from him, Mason backs up, leaving me perched on the side of the pool table, breathless and wanting, aching for the warmth of his touch to envelop me again.

“What if someone walks in?” he rasps. The line of his cock is long and thick and mouth-watering to look at, even through his jeans.

I groan in frustration. He’s being smart. Sensible. I don’t want a gossip-mill repeat. Not to mention, the gossip created from us getting it on on a pool table together, would be so much worse than dancing with Theo and Leo. I’m reading get out of here lol

But I don’t want to stop now .

“Does the door lock?” I ask, hopefully.

He glances at the door with a rueful expression. “I’m not sure we’re allowed to lock it. Safety reasons.”

Mason is groaning out his frustration, again, like we’re taking turns. He grabs himself, adjusting, as if the fullness of his cock is uncomfortable.

He needs me to set him free.

I squeeze my thighs together, and squeeze my pussy for extra measure, as though that will stop the rush of warmth dampening my panties.

I lick my lips.

He grins. “Fuck me, Cupcake, what are the thoughts in your head making your eyes glow that bright?”

Before I can answer, he’s flicking the lock closed and yanking off his shirt in one movement. He locks eyes on mine again, walking toward me slowly as he unbuttons his jeans.

I can’t stop the grin on my face as he teases, his stupidly gorgeous body rippling like a panther’s as he sheds his clothes down to his tight baby blue boxers.

He reaches me, leaning in for a kiss, but I’m not ready

“All of it,” I tell him.

One brow rises. “Is that fair? You haven’t taken anything off yet.”

I kick off my shoes and smile coyly.

“ That is definitely not fair. ”

I mirror his raised brow, and teasingly say, “It’s fair, Cupcake .”

He laughs and drops his boxers, kicking them off. His cock bobs as he moves, teasing me back.

My belly twists with need. I scoot backward onto the pool table, stretching my body out like a pinup girl and batting my eyelashes at him.

Come hither, baby.

His panther-muscles flex, and in a swift motion, he swings himself up onto the table. Before I can blink, I’m on my back, legs spread open so he can nestle his body between them. His cock presses into me and he grins mischievously knowing I feel all of him, even through my pants.

“Now don’t you wish you’d gotten yourself naked like me?” he says, hovering over my face, just out of reach of my mouth.

I do. I absolutely definitely do. I grind my hips into him.

He smiles. “I suppose I’ll have to fix that, then.”

“This is your date, after all.” I sound incredibly horny, my voice thick and breathy.

His eyes twinkle as he sits up and reaches for the button of my pants. With a few tugs, my pants are off and on the ground next to his. My panties follow.

He stares at my pussy for a long minute, his hand going back to rub the head of his cock. It’s like my pussy is a hypnotist’s watch the way the Hammer brothers stare at it. Mason is completely mesmerized, his mouth parted, his eyes glazing over .

He touches me, his thumb skimming over my clit, sliding through my folds, and the sounds he makes is like an animal. He licks my juices off his skin, and his eyes are dark.

“I want so badly to tell you what you do to me. To tell you how much I love the taste of you. Winnie .” He says my name like he’s desperate, his voice snagging on his emotion, and my heart catches.

“So tell me,” I say.

“You’ve heard it all before, though.” His fingers slide into me, at least two, luxuriously slow.

I moan. “Who cares what the others have said?”

Just as slowly as he enters me, his fingers leave, and I want to push against him until he’s inside me again, but his eyes pin me in place.

“I just wish I could do something, you know, say anything to you, that the others haven’t already.”

“I think you’re too much in your head, Mace,” I say as gently as possible, hoping the mood isn’t dying.

“Well,” he mutters, and then he gives me his fingers again, “It’s not like I can tell you what’s in my heart. Diesel beat me to…”

His voice trails to a stop and his eyes widen as though he didn’t mean to say what he did, at least not out loud. His fingers begin to pump, finding a sweet rhythm.

I moan again, and push my hips in a matching rhythm. But this conversation isn’t finished yet.

“Beat you to what, Mace? ”

I watch his face carefully, and as I do, I reach for his cock, searching with my hand until I find him. My grip is as solid as he is and his eyes flicker as I stroke him once.

“What did Diesel beat you to, Mace?”

He swallows hard. “I am not saying another word.”

I pump his cock again, and he pumps his fingers into me. As we match paces, we stare at each other. And stare and stare. The air is so thick with passion I might actually choke.

“Tell me,” I say again, daring him.

And then in a swift motion, he spreads me open wider and settles his body over me, the tip of his cock lining up with my entrance. We still haven’t broken eye contact. I don’t think I could look away from him if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. When he thrusts forward, I gasp, but I relish the thick, deep slide of him.

“I told you I’m not saying another word.”

His hips are possessed by some kind of magical spell to make my pussy sing, I’m sure. That’s the only explanation for why I completely unravel as he begins to steadily fuck me. I pant, I sweat, and with his molten eyes on me, it doesn’t take long before I feel the orgasm rising in me.

“Why not?” I ask, pushing all thoughts of orgasming out of my head. I’m not ready. Not yet.

He sits up, then, shoving my knees toward my chest and grabbing my ass, lifting me higher.

When he thrusts into me again, his cock feels so huge in this new angle that it steals my breath .

“Because,” he starts as his hips slam into me. “I’ve heard it’s a bad idea to tell someone that you love them when you’re fucking.”

My heart isn’t beating anymore. My lungs can’t take in air. Thank God he’s got me on my back, already, because in any other position I’d have collapsed from shock.

“But is it true?” I say.

Well, I try to say it, but he’s fucking me harder than before, so my words are sloppy, gasping breaths.

“It’s true, Cupcake.”

The slam of his cock into me is ten times deeper after he says it. My heart is fully pierced by him.

“I’m going to come,” I cry out.

“Let go, baby.”

The sounds I make as my body bursts in ecstasy are surely loud enough to be heard throughout the entire building. Mason’s sounds are quieter.

“ Winnie ,” he says, groaning my name as he shudders into my body. “I love you. I do.”

The last words he whispers, but he might as well have shouted them for how my body reacts, tensing even as I’ve gone boneless. He gathers me close, kissing my shoulders, my neck.

“I really do love you,” he says again, his voice slowed down, lazy from his orgasm. “I want you to know it, Winnie. But I don’t want you to think it means I expect you’ll pick me. It’s just something you should know, that’s all. So no getting weird about it, okay? You’re also the absolute best sex I’ve ever had. Another truth you should know. ”

I kiss him again. Again. Again. The more my lips touch his skin the more I crave him. I wrap my legs around him to keep him from sliding out of me, and we kiss until our hips begin to rock, and I can feel him growing hard all over again.

“Damn,” Mason swears, pulling out. “If we don’t stop soon, I’m going to bury myself in all this sweetness again, and I might not be able to stop.”

“Sounds fine by me,” I say with a laugh.

“But I already forgot that I planned everything out. You were supposed to be lighting up the recliner just as the sun was setting. There are epic sunsets here and we missed it.”

My heart is already full to bursting and then he goes and says that?

“We didn’t miss anything, Mason,” I say, grabbing his hand, pulling it to my heart. And I hope, even without me saying it, he knows how much I love him, too.

We dress and go back upstairs and I have to hold his hand. I don’t ever want to not touch Mason.

It hits me like a wrecking ball that I feel things I haven’t felt before. Maybe it was just the catharsis of smashing Gram and Dad’s things, combined with that mind-blowing sex, but… yeah. I’m undeniably experiencing a level of emotions, closeness, connection with Mason I haven’t felt with any of the others, not even in the tent with the triplets.

Holy shit. Does this mean Mason could be…

But a wave of sadness hits me when I think of Max. And Gavin. And Deezy. Jack .

I could feel good, in this moment, with choosing Mason… if I could just not think that choosing him means not choosing the others.

As much as I never want to let him go, when we get upstairs and I see a door with a bathroom sign above it, I say, “Let me pop into the ladies room before we go, okay?”

I pee and then as I’m washing my hands, I look at myself, really look at myself in the mirror. I don’t zone in on my flaws or pick them apart. I just look at the woman standing there. It’s probably the first time in my life I confront my reflection and think that I’m beautiful.

Happy tears fill my eyes.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out. Goldie’s calling. I would wait until we get home and call her back but I see that there are quite a few notifications from her.

“Hey, girl, hey,” I answer. I am giddy. “What’s up?”

“Oh, my god, I didn’t think I was ever going to get in touch with you. Where are you right now? Are you somewhere you can sit down?”

“Um… well, I’m in a public bathroom, and I don’t know if I really want to sit down on one of these toilets, though it is cleaner in here than your average public bathroom. Mason brought me to this place where you smash things. Golds, we had the best time and then we may or may not have just had life-altering sex on a pool table.”

She’s quiet.

I feel like maybe I should go sit down on one of the toilets.

“Golds?” I prompt .

“You’re out with Mason, right now? And you just fucked?”

“Uh… yes?”

She lets out a string of curses.

“Goldie, I think you need to tell me what’s wrong. Like, now.”

There’s a long stretch of silence and I know whatever she’s going to tell me is going to be bad.

“Goldie!” I cry.

“I got an offer to be a field producer on another reality show,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically somber and quiet.

“Oh. And you’re not psyched about it? Did they give you a lowball offer?”

“Winnie, the new show is a 1 Girl, 10 Hammers spinoff.”

My knees feel weak. I clearly have heard her wrong. “No, that’s not possible. The guys turned it down and we all agreed our Winnie’s Favorite Hammer thing is a private thing–”

She’s gone silent again.

“Golds.”

“The guys turned that show down, yes. But the network wasn’t willing to drop it. They came up with another idea called ‘Who Wants to Marry A Hammer Brother?’ It’s going to feature 25 gorgeous–and you and I both know that means skinny and flawless–single women vying for the heart of, and an engagement ring from, a Hammer brother.”

“Well, they’ll turn that one down, too,” I say with a nonchalant shrug .

But part of me feels sick. After I’ve made my choice, some of them might want to do it. And I’ll have to be okay with that.

“Winnie, Season 1 is going to be Max. And Season 2 is going to be Mason. They’ve already signed on to do it. Filming starts in September.”

They’ve already signed on?

I don’t say anything. I can’t.

“Winnie, are you there?”

Yes, yes, I’m here. But I feel like the world has just fallen out from under my feet.

Apparently I was wrong when we finished in the smash room. There was something left to break.

My stupid, stupid heart.