Intercepted (New Hope #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mallory

"These tacos are so fucking good," I mumble, wiping bubbles and carne asada juice off my wrist.

That's right. I'm drunk, I'm in a bathtub the size of a jacuzzi, and I'm eating legitimate street tacos. Mason keeps handing me food, and I shove it in my mouth without asking questions. He's sitting on the edge of the sunken tub, slacks rolled up to his knees, feet submerged in the scalding water.

"You need to get out soon," he warns, brushing a piece of cilantro off my bottom lip. "You're going to get heat stroke."

"Mmm." I protest, sinking further into the marble pool. I'm finally warm again, that fuzzy feeling slithering through my veins. "But this feels amazing."

"Don't moan like that." Mason clutches his groin, adjusting his erection. "I swear, my dick is bruised. If I get to full mast, it might fall off."

"So, you lose a few inches." I wave my fingers at him. "You'll still be above average."

His eyes widen, panic flashing through them. "No way! I'm happy with my inches, thank you very much. And so are you."

I giggle, my mouth dipping under the water. I start to choke in the bubbles, but Mason's is there, his expression instantaneously serious. 

"That's it." He rises, yanking me out of the tub. "I'm calling an end to bath time before you drown yourself."

I know I shouldn't have gotten drunk, but I was feeling so depleted after experiencing every emotion known to mankind. Plus, Mason has an entire walk-in wine fridge, and him and the kids were gone for way more than an hour. I didn't know what to do with myself while I waited.

My reactions were justified, but I feel like they were all for nothing. Although, that can't be true. Mason now knows how much I care about him, and that I would never force him to leave us again. And the kids saw for themselves that I can fight my own battles. They don't need to worry about Momma letting people step all over her.

Mason carries me into his master bedroom—a generic, rich man-cave—and deposits me on the bed next to a pair of silk pajamas.

"Oh, no, no, no." I shake my head, pushing the luxurious fabric away. "I'm not wearing whatever those supermodels left behind after they fucked you."

"Jesus Christ, woman," Mason curses, yanking the tank top over my head. "I had June shop for you, seeing as you came with nothing but the clothes on your back. She left a few bags at the front desk. I grabbed them on our way up."

I narrow my eyes, the alcohol making me bold. "Who's June?"

He grins adorably, looking at me from under his lashes. "Are you jealous?"

"Who's June?"

"I have to say, jealousy looks good on you." He growls, prowling over me like a panther, his hands sinking into the plush mattress on either side of my head. I lean back, glaring at him. "My, my, how the tables have turned."

I grab his dick, squeezing hard enough that he winces. "Tell me who the fuck June is, or I'll twist your bruised cock into a pretzel and eat it with spicy mustard."

His eyes widen. "She's my publicist, and she's gay! I swear!"

"Was that so hard?" I ask, smiling sweetly.

"I'll give you hard."

He leans on one elbow, fumbling with the button on his slacks. He frees himself with a deep groan, fisting his cock in hand. Holy shit, he's lethal. I watch, utterly entranced, as he pumps himself, inches away from my bare pussy. There's a reason he didn't put my pajama pants on for me.