Chapter Nineteen

Two hours later, and after another sweaty session of stroking each other that ended in explosive orgasms for both of them, he watched Mason slide into the backseat of the car service hired to take him home. Just as the car pulled away from the curb, BB’s black Jeep drove into the gym’s parking lot to open up for the day. His tired brain wasted less than a minute wondering if BB might have seen Mason leave in a car parked in front of his building because he didn’t much care one way or the other. So what, if BB knew? Then, he wondered if Mason might care if BB found out about them and that changed things a tiny bit. He wasn’t sure if Mason was out to everyone or closeted like most of the guys he knew in the military. It was a subject they’d have to discuss together at some point, but for now, Tessler was going to enjoy his afterglow.

The sun was starting to rise, and as much as he’d tried to get Mason to spend the entire night and stay to have breakfast with him, Mason insisted on leaving Tessler to his usual morning routine—whatever the hell that was, Tessler wasn’t sure. First thing he needed to do was contact his so-called business team and let them know he was back from vacation early. At least he knew he had no appointments planned for another two weeks, since everyone believed he was still away. That was a huge bonus.

He walked into his kitchen, poured himself another cup of coffee, and thought about how much fun he’d had hanging out with Mason the previous night. Their conversation flowed as easily as their physical connection burned hot. He’d never found anyone who could give him both. It’d always been one or the other; either they were great in bed with nothing inside their head to talk about, or had the verbal skills of a professional public speaker with absolutely zero attraction.

Mason offered him both attributes without any effort at all, and he also seemed to appreciate his kinky side, too. That was a total win in Tessler’s book. No pun intended. He honestly had as much fun with Mason in bed as he did sitting around and simply talking, which is why he’d probably revealed so much about himself the night before. It felt wonderful to have someone like Mason in his life, if that’s what was going on with them. Jesus, he hoped so. Maybe he was being stupid to even consider the prospect of letting someone truly inside. A huge part of him felt that way, but then there was this tiny piece of his heart that warmed whenever he thought of Mason or spent time with him. That had to mean something, right? Goddamn, he wanted to believe Mason was the man he portrayed himself to be—and if he was that man—Tessler closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The possibilities that came along with Mason scared the hell out of him. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that or if he ever would be.

Tessler knew he came with a lot of baggage, and he’d also seen the darker side of what Mason was going through, too, with the panic attacks and PTSD. He hoped he’d done a proper job of helping him through that episode, and it felt good to be there for Mason as well. Even still, he made a mental note to research PTSD and see if he could learn a few more tips to help him if it happened again in his presence. Holding him afterwards had been a bonus. He fucking loved the feeling of being needed like that, and he hoped Mason felt the same.

The ping of his phone drew him from his thoughts. He found himself hoping it was a message from Mason, even though he’d barely just left his place, then chastised himself at how ridiculous he was acting. Get a fucking grip. Rushing into something that felt this good would spell disaster. He needed to be patient and allow this to unfold the way it was supposed to—whatever the fuck that meant. He reached for his phone and grinned like a fool as he read the message from Mason.

“Did I wish you Happy Birthday last night?” Mason’s message read.

“Many times, in between screaming out my name to announce the arrival of another orgasm,” Tessler typed back.

“Instant wood.”

“That’s a constant state for me these days,” Tessler answered. “I wish you had stayed.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Next time?” Tessler asked.

“I’ll think about it,” Mason replied.

“Call me later when you get out of work,” Tessler typed back.

“Will do. Enjoy your day.”

“I’ll try, but it would’ve been a lot more fun if you had spent it with me,” Tessler countered.

“I will soon, because I’ll be looking for a second date,” Mason stated.

“I’ll agree to another date, but only if you bring an overnight bag,” Tessler added.

“What if I said I wasn’t that easy?”

“I’d call bullshit,” Tessler typed back and added a laughing emoji.

“And you’d be right,” Mason admitted, then followed his statement with a ridiculous smiley face.

“Talk to you soon.”

Tessler had a gloomy feeling that the text message he’d just exchanged with Mason was going to be the highlight of his day. They hadn’t made plans to confirm another time they could be together and that also weighed heavy on his mind. Maybe he should have suggested Mason come back over tonight, or see if he was free for the weekend. Tessler knew Mason wasn’t seeing BB again for two more days. He could ask him if he was interested in staying for dinner after his appointment with BB. If he was a “normal person” with no security issues, this would all be an easy thing to plan. He’d simply hire a driver to take them into Los Angeles for a real date. They could have a nice dinner followed by dancing at a club. Then again, with Mason’s leg in the condition it was, he doubted he’d be up for dancing. Maybe he could charter a private jet to fly them up to San Francisco for the weekend?

Tessler made a scoffing sound at himself. He was overthinking this process in a big way. As usual. He seriously doubted Mason would be impressed with weekend getaways or lavish dinners in trendy downtown restaurants. He seemed to be more of the quiet type who would prefer to hang out at home and watch a movie or to go on a hike—something like that. Any kind of strenuous activity would have to wait until Mason was physically back to normal. Until then, Tessler would see what Mason suggested. As long as he could spend time with him, Tessler, honestly, didn’t care what they did together. He made a mental note to check out a few cooking websites for new recipes so he could prepare a nice meal for him. For the moment, that seemed to be the safest way for them to be together, and Tessler loved showing off his skills in the kitchen.

He checked the time on his phone. It was still really early. No one would blame him for wanting to go back to bed, considering the long day of travel he’d had yesterday, and then Mason’s visit last night with all the talking and the … touching they’d managed to squeeze into their time together. Jesus, he was exhausted from all of it and even had sore muscles from the exertion, but he’d never felt better or lighter.

Instead of crawling back into his bed with the sheets still rumpled and damp with sweat from Mason being there, Tessler climbed the spiral staircase up to his office loft and went to work. Taking all the different emotions spinning around inside his head and writing them into his manuscript sounded like the perfect cleanse. At the rate his current story was unfolding, he’d have the first draft done in short time. He’d gotten half of it written while on vacation, and being with Mason last night had him inspired once again to tell the story.

Boy meets boy and they fall in love.

Was life imitating art or was his art just a reflection of what he was going through himself? Either way, meeting Mason had opened the creative flood gates for Tessler to write about something he didn’t always tackle in fiction—love. His stories were always filled with angst and darkness, or alternate universes with elements of twisted sex, but this story was layered with brightness and fucking life. For the first time since he’d started writing, his work felt real, like it meant something more than the words he’d typed onto the pages, and damn, if that wasn’t why he’d gotten into this racket in the first place.

Tessler re-read the first several chapters of his “work in progress” and realized this was the closest he’d ever come to telling his own truth. This was as real as it got, and as much as he felt stripped bare, this story was astonishingly liberating. Perhaps in the end, this would wind up being his swan song, the story where everyone saw him as the main character. They’d be right in thinking so, because this was him, ripped open and raw for all to see with plenty of possibilities to pass their judgments.

Tessler rubbed at the fatigue in his face. He’d been working for hours, and the tension had his muscles tied up in knots. By design, he never allowed his stories to get this close to himself, but this was a story that needed to be told. He saved the file and shut down his laptop, then squared his shoulders as he stood up. This felt so right. He was finally telling an honest story and the words flowed that way, too. The truth had a way of doing that, and as difficult as this was to put himself out there, he was damn proud of this project.

This is my story, he thought. Mine.

He managed to grab a couple of hours of sleep after he got home from Tessler’s. It was the first time in quite a while where he fell asleep with a genuine smile on his face. Exhaustion had never felt this good, and he hoped to experience a lot more of it in the months to come. After a quick shower, he called the car service to take him over to the Ventura Security offices. He hadn’t realized he was still grinning, but Zac picked up on it as soon as he stepped inside the main office.

“Jesus Christ!” Zac shouted. “Look who finally got laid!”

“I didn’t get laid,” Mason scoffed.

“Well, you got something because you look … happy, and your face and neck have beard burn all over it. I’d recognize that anywhere,” Fizzbo commented.

“Don’t make it sound like you’ve never seen me happy,” Mason replied. He plunked his ass down at his desk and prepared to get to work. He was actually very pleased that the guys were ribbing him about this. He wanted to share his happiness with them—even if he couldn’t mention names.

“There’s happy and then there’s ... happy,” Victor said. “Your current expression is screaming ‘H-a-p-p-y!’ Are we wrong about that?”

“Okay, okay!” Mason said, pretending to be exasperated by their inquiry. “I’m very, very … happy.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic!” Zac hollered. “It must have been one helluva a blowjob to put that shit-eating grin on your mug.”

Mason couldn’t bring himself to correct Zac on that and admit he was walking on air from nothing more than a couple of intense hand jobs. With Tessler, everything went far beyond the act itself. They didn’t need to know that though. For now, they could settle with the idea that Mason had gotten his dick sucked.

“So, who’s the lucky bastard?” Victor asked.

“Who said it was a dude?” Mason answered.

“The fucking beard burn on your face does!” Zac reminded him.

Again, his lips lifted into a big grin. “Yeah, he’s a guy I met a few weeks back and I … really like him.”

Zac and Hightower high fived each other and hooted out a catcall like Mason had just scored the winning touchdown.

“Did you hear that, Vic?” Hightower asked. “Our boy has his first crush.”

“He’s all grown up now, and it happened so fast,” Zac added and sniffled. “Brings a tear to my eyes.”

“Fuck all of you,” Mason retorted. He opened up a file on his desk and pretended to be annoyed, but secretly he loved every minute of it. Maybe true happiness did that to people? This was all new to Mason, so he had no clue what was normal. Was he was simply losing his mind? Either way, he couldn’t wait to see how this all played out with Tessler.