Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and pinch myself, but when I open up again, Mason’s still there.
I’m going to take advantage of this while I can. I throw myself on top of him. He lets out an oomph but doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.
“You better not be looking at Hollywood gossip sites again. They’re toxic.”
“They’re everywhere.” He turns the tablet toward me, and there on LA Life are photos of us during our hike yesterday.
There are several shots of us smiling. One of me scowling at Mason, and one where we’re standing a little too close to each other. The good thing about that shot is it looks like we’re having a serious conversation, instead of what it really was—Mason telling me he loves my body.
My cock twitches at the memory. I wanted to kiss him right then and there even though I was mad at him for making me exercise to the point of dying. Not being melodramatic or anything.
“The trees might not have ears, but they have cameras,” Mason says.
“How did we not see the paparazzi? Instead of being in our faces, they’re hiding in bushes now? Wannabe ninjas.”
“Maybe it was a fan, and they were taken with a cell phone.”
“Doubtful. They’re too far away and too high-quality.” I take the tablet off him and blow up one of the photos. “I have to say, this one?” I show him. He’s wearing a hat in the photo, we both are, but Mason’s breathtaking smile, all white teeth among a trimmed beard, stands out. “You look genuinely happy.”
“I was mocking you for being unfit. I was happy.”
I want to say I think it’s more than that, but I’m trying desperately to tone down those claimy feelings. It’s hard for me because I didn’t realize that hooking up with Mason wouldn’t be like hooking up with other people.
I’ve done the casual thing for nearly my whole career. I’ve dated actresses and fans, knowing things would never last in the long run. I didn’t have real feelings for any of them, so it was easy to fool around for a while and then call it quits when we needed to.
With Mason, it’s so different that a few shared orgasms and sleeping wrapped around him has made me want a future and happiness and forever with my best friend.
I have to stop desperately needing him to fall in love with me and make him want to.
“Let’s not look at that crap.” I reach over and put his tablet on the coffee table and then adjust how I’m lying on him so it’s more comfortable. And by comfortable, I mean so our cocks are lined up and the smallest amount of friction will drive him crazy.
His arms wrap around me and hold me close so our noses are almost touching. “What were you thinking of looking at instead?”
“Mm, I wouldn’t mind seeing your O face again.”
“Right back at you.” Mason’s hand moves down my back and grips my ass.
I love that he’s not shy about exploring with me sexually. He’s nervous, that’s obvious, but so am I. The only thing that makes it seem like I know what I’m doing on the outside is how long I’ve wanted this to happen. It far outweighs everything else.
I lean in and kiss him hard, but we don’t even have time to add tongues when my damn buzzer for the front of the house goes off.
Motherfucker.
“Expecting someone?” Mason pants.
“Nope.”
I give him three seconds to figure it out. He only needs one.
He closes his eyes, and his body goes slack underneath me. “We were in the tabloids. Harley knows I’m in LA.”
“Bingo. And he knows you’re with me.” I climb off him. “How do you want to play this? You can hide, and I’ll tell him you’re not here.”
“Nah. I’m willing to hear him out now. As long as he knows I’m not signing anything anytime soon.”
I laugh. “Good luck with that.” The door buzzes again. “I’ll go get him.”
When I answer my door, I’m surprised by who’s standing at the outer gate. Or rather, isn’t. “Blake? What are you doing here?”
Blake Monroe stands there with his blond hair and trademark half-smile that his character does in his movies. He’s also wearing jeans and a leather jacket, and he’s holding a motorcycle helmet. I buzz the gate to let him in.
“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for me to step aside. He just pushes his way past me. “You got Mason to LA? Where is he? Is he here?”
“Hello to you too. Does the studio let you ride your bike? After visiting you on set, I thought you weren’t allowed to do anything dangerous.”
“Oh, we’re wrapped. It’s okay if I die now.”
“Fun.”
“So, Mason?”
“Uh, yeah, in my living room.”
“Cool.” He leads the way because I’ve owned this house since nearly the beginning of Eleven, so everyone knows where everything is.