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)
If it had gone any further, everything would’ve become real. My hopes would get too high. I’d be devastated beyond measure when he inevitably says he can’t love me like that.
Everything inside me wants to take the only chance I might get to be with Mason, but there’s the tiny piece of my heart that knows the truth. He kissed me because he was hoping I’d hate it and have some big revelation. That suddenly, I’d pull back and say, Huh, I do only see you as a brother.
News flash and no shock here: it only made me want him more.
I should get a medal for pulling away.
When the breaking light of dawn filters in through the small gap in the curtains, I slip out of bed to make a break for the house.
“You didn’t get any sleep either?” Mason’s groggy voice makes me pause.
I turn to find him slowly sitting up and running a hand over his beard.
“You’ve been awake this whole time?” I ask.
“Yeah … been thinking. Trying to organize the jumbled thoughts in my head.” That hand runs over his black hair now, and while it’s trendier how he’s cut it, I kinda miss the longer hair. It suited him.
“I’ll go make us two really big cups of coffee,” I say.
Mason’s mouth tips upward on one side, giving a sexy half-smile.
My heart gallops and then skips a beat because I’m picturing things I shouldn’t be. Like waking up next to him every day. Making coffee for both of us indefinitely.
But like I told him last night, he needs to process it first.
Ironically, it’s all I can think about. All. Fucking. Day.
Today should’ve been the shortest shoot of them all seeing as the contestants get one chance to perform their song for me and Mason. But, again, they blindside me by saying that’s what we’re telling the audience. We’re actually going to do as many takes as we can until we get the perfect performance out of each and every act.
By the fifth artist, I’m about ready to bullshit my way out of it and tell them they are perfect even if they’re not.
I swear production is doing it because they know I’m impatient for everyone to get out of my house.
And then? When we finally wrap for the day? A production assistant guides us all inside where craft services has organized a goodbye thing. Even though we’re all back in the studio on Monday.
I’m supposed to be the nice one, but I’m thinking my manufactured persona is wrong. I’m about to become the homicidal one.
I catch Mason’s eyes across the room, just like I’ve been doing all day. From watching my reactions to the contestants’ songs to smiling at me right now … I’m eager to ask him how he feels after he’s had time to think about last night. At the same time, I’m dreading it because as hopeful as I am that he has the sudden urge to switch teams, reality doesn’t work like that.
Even if I catch his heated gaze more than once.
Focus on the contestants. Get through this goodbye party. Try not to stare at Mason.
I distract myself with food, shoving a cracker and all the camembert cheese as I can manage down my throat.
Mason’s distinctive chuckle rings out, and when I swallow, I find him standing a few feet away, watching me. Mmm, I’m sure the attractive sight of stuffing my face will have him falling at my feet and offering to blow me as soon as everyone leaves.
Considering I thought they’d all be gone by midafternoon, when the sun begins to set over the horizon, I’m about ready to throw them all out.
After no sleep and hours of having Mason’s intense dark gaze on me all day, I’m exhausted, horny, and I can’t decide what I need more: a drink, a fuck, or three days of sleep.
A fuck is out of the question. I know I shouldn’t drink because since Vegas and the impromptu trip to Montana, I haven’t touched a drop. I’ve stayed strong even though I’ve desperately wanted to drink just so I could dim all the emotions Mason’s presence has dredged up. So that means it looks like passing out is the option I’m gonna have to take.
Hurrrrrry up and leave.
I even start doing dishes as a massive hint, and I never do dishes—that’s what hired cleaners are for—but at least it’s quiet in the kitchen.
Turns out parties full of people you hardly know are boring when you’re sober. Who knew?
I’m almost done rinsing the dishes to go into the dishwasher when a presence behind me makes me flinch. I’m so tired I didn’t hear Mason come in, but now that he’s practically pressed against me, I need all my strength not to lean back against his big body.