Chapter Seven

Being inside Tessler’s apartment was the biggest rush he’d experienced in a long fucking time. It was partly due to the intense attraction he had for the man, but it was also because he knew how private Tessler was about this life. To be invited into Tessler’s space like this had to be huge, and judging by how awkward he was when they stepped out of the elevator, Mason knew this was a rare moment for the secretive author. He had to wonder just how many visitors Tessler had ever had in here, and because of that, Mason would not take this new development for granted.

He entered the kitchen behind Tessler and did his best not to stare at how the wet denim material had cast a perfect mold of the impressive ass concealed beneath it as well as those thigh and calf muscles subtly defined under the saturated fabric. He watched Tessler move around the large room gathering coffee mugs and pulling out a variety of creamers from the refrigerator.

“Oh, shit,” Tessler grumbled. “I forgot to ask if you wanted coffee or a beer.”

Mason smiled at that. It made him less nervous to see just how unhinged Tessler seemed to be around him. At least he wasn’t the only one acting like he was out of his comfort zone. “Coffee works just fine for me,” Mason said.

Tessler’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit after that, and he went back to the task of preparing a pot of coffee using some kind of high-end model which Mason had never seen or heard of before in his life. The machine looked like it belonged downstairs in the coffee shop instead of sitting on Tessler’s granite counter top.

A moment later, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, and Mason inhaled loudly. “Jesus, that smells good,” he commented.

“That’s why I love living above a coffee shop,” Tessler added. “My place always smells nice.”

“How long have you lived here?” Mason asked as he watched Tessler filling their mugs with the hot beverage.

“Close to five years now,” Tessler answered. “I needed a bigger writing space and a safer place to live. This building suited both of those needs perfectly. The town was in the middle of a pretty extensive rehab project on the central neighborhoods. Their focus was to try and entice new blood into the community and bring properties like this old factory back to life. I was able to buy the whole building really cheap, sunk a ton of money into it, and this is what I have now.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem really young to be able to have that kind of money,” Mason ventured. “Though, if your books are as popular as I’ve heard they are, then I guess you’d have plenty of money to do a renovation project like this one.”

Tessler shrugged. “I do all right selling books,” he admitted. “You won’t ever hear me complaining about that.” He pointed to a stool at the counter for Mason to sit on, then passed a mug to him and set the creamers and sugar in front on the counter top. Tessler took his own mug and perched himself on a stool a few feet away. “I sold my first book before I turned twenty, which everyone assumed was a fluke. At the time, I worried it was too, but three weeks after it released, it hit number one in the sci-fi genre. Even with the exemplary sales ranking of that first book, the literary world figured they’d never hear my name mentioned again. Sort of a one and done kind of thing.” Tessler got up from his stool and walked over to the pantry to pull out a package of chocolate chip cookies, grabbing some napkins along the way. “That simple-minded mentality just gave me something to prove, so I worked my ass off and had a follow up book published six months later. That book also hit number one, and the rest, I guess, is history.”

“How many titles do you have in print?” Mason asked. Tessler seemed to stumble over that question, and his silence had Mason nervous he might have crossed an imaginary line, or perhaps had asked the guarded author something a little too personal. “Probably too many books to count,” Mason added.

“Something like that,” Tessler said and grinned. “I typically write several books each year, but my publishing house chooses how many of them actually release during the calendar year.”

“They can do that?”

“They can pretty much do anything they want—to a point,” Tessler explained. “My contract gives me some wiggle room. I made sure of that, so if they really piss me off, they know I’ll walk. They understand they’re not the only game in town, so to speak, and that keeps them fairly reasonable with their demands on me.”

“Do you like it?”

“Being an author?”

Mason nodded and carefully sipped the hot coffee.

“It’s isolating, but I can’t imagine doing anything else,” Tessler offered. “I don’t know of many jobs that would allow me to make my own hours the way I do. Plus, I get to play the roles of a large variety of people.”

“You become your characters,” Mason stated as if he understood what he was talking about. He didn’t, but he wanted to. What Tessler was describing was fascinating, to say the least. The idea of becoming someone different, with the power of your words propelling them through various scenes, sounded pretty fucking amazing. Tessler could then live vicariously through his characters every damn day. When he thought about it like that, Tessler really did have the best job imaginable.

“Absolutely,” Tessler admitted. “When I’m in their head space, I truly do feel as though I’ve slipped inside of their skin. I speak and act as they would, or how I want them to, in any given situation. It’s a pretty powerful thing to do.”

Mason grinned over the top of his mug, the chill from his wet clothing almost forgotten. “Are you speaking to me right now as Tessler, or one of your characters?”

The comment was meant to be flirty, and possibly witty, but the odd expression that clouded Tessler’s eyes told Mason there was something more to his reaction. It was something deeper and darker, and Mason found himself wishing he could retract the question all together.

Tessler wiped off his lips using his fingertips and seemed to be contemplating something. For all Mason knew, he was plotting a polite way of asking him to get the fuck out of his apartment. Maybe he should make it easier for Tessler and just excuse himself? Christ, he was so out of practice with this whole “getting to know you” bullshit, it was beyond lame.

You’re beyond lame, asshole.

“You like being a bodyguard?” Tessler asked after a very long and uncomfortable silence.

“Personal security,” Mason corrected, and then he shook his head from his own remark. Jesus, he needed to leave before he made an even bigger ass of himself. Here he was sitting with—according to what BB had told him, a guy who some considered to be a literary genius, and he had the balls to correct him on his job title? He was a fucking idiot.

“You don’t like protecting people?” Tessler asked.

“What? No, I didn’t say that,” Mason said.

“You shook your head, so I thought that meant you didn’t enjoy your job.”

Mason started chuckling under his breath, and it gradually grew louder until it morphed into a full blown laugh which echoed a bit in the oversized kitchen. Had he ever botched a date this badly before? And who the fuck was he to consider this a date? He had no damn clue if Tessler was gay, straight, or a fucking alien plopped down on earth from an undiscovered universe. He’d been invited into Tessler’s home to dry off, and nothing more, and any other assumptions he’d made were completely illogical and most likely wrong.

He leaned forward and held his head. “I’m really sorry,” Mason apologized. “I don’t know why, but I am so damn nervous being here with you. Everything I’m saying is either coming out wrong or not making sense, and I sound like a complete idiot. This isn’t how I usually act, I can promise you that. Most of the time, I’m much more in control of myself.”

Tessler’s body language visibly loosened after Mason’s admission. “And here I thought you were doing just fine,” Tessler smiled.

“You can’t be serious,” Mason said, still trying to tame his laughter.

“All right, if we’re both going for honesty, then I’d have to say I’m exceptionally nervous, too,” Tessler added.

“Why would that be?” Mason asked.

“For starters, I don’t have a lot of guests here,” Tessler confessed, “and the fact I’m having a conversation with someone in my own kitchen right now has me feeling a bit … off kilter.”

“You’ve never had a guest?”

Tessler shook his head. “I’m not going to count my agent, or the various assistants who’ve worked for me from time to time, since they were only here for business,” he expounded. “Outside of their random visits, I’m here alone every day.”

“Not even a … date?” Mason pushed. He knew he was risking Tessler tossing him out on his ass, but the man had him beyond curious. Mason had seen with his own eyes Tessler flirting with the baristas down in the coffee shop, but he also knew that some of the looks Tessler had given him might border on interest, too. So which side of the fence did this gorgeous man dance, and would he ever care to share a dance with Mason?

Tessler leaned closer, his eyes laser-focused on Mason. “Why? Are you asking for one?”

Mason almost choked on the sip of coffee in his mouth. He swallowed the liquid as quickly as he could and fought the heat that wanted to consume him. If that wasn’t the opening Mason was waiting and hoping for, he didn’t know what would be. He licked his lips and started to speak just as his phone pinged on the counter in front of him, alerting him to a new text message.

Mason read the screen quickly, then typed back a response. “Shit. Sorry about that,” he said. “My driver says he’ll be here in ten minutes, and it’ll probably take me twenty to get my ass out to the curb, so I better take off.”

“No problem,” Tessler commented. “I’ll help you downstairs.”

“That’s not necessary,” Mason said. He adjusted the cane in his palm before he stepped into the living room.

“Does accepting help go against some sort of military code?” Tessler asked.

“What do you mean by that?” Mason wheeled around in Tessler’s direction so fast that he almost lost his balance. Tessler’s words sounded borderline snarky, but the gentle, almost shy grin on the man’s face told Mason another story. Tessler was flirting again, in his own weird way. Jesus, the social etiquette, bullshit rules which might apply in these types of situations were just as lost on both of them. Neither had a damn clue on how to properly interact without coming off as abrasive.

“I offered to give you a hand the day you fell in the coffee shop, and you declined,” Tessler explained in a soft voice. “You mentioned being a Marine at one point, so I thought maybe … ah, shit. Never mind. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Mason nodded. “It’s nice to know we’re both uncomfortable with these types of situations,” he said.

“I’m a little rusty, that’s all,” Tessler explained.

“You and me both.”

Mason reached the elevator and shifted his weight on the cane while Tessler pressed the button to open the doors. Once inside, Mason started chuckling again, and Tessler glanced over at him before his eyes fell to the floor.

“I can’t believe how out of practice I am with this,” Mason mumbled.

“With what?”

“Being with people,” Mason explained.

“You don’t have any friends that you spend time with?” Tessler asked.

“Not like this, and I think you know what I mean when I say that.” The elevator doors opened up on the first floor, and Mason followed Tessler out of the elevator carriage and slowly made his way down the hallway, using careful placement of his cane. The last thing he needed now was to fall on his ass again in front of Tessler.

“I’m not used to these one-on-one kind of exchanges, so I do understand,” Tessler offered as they walked towards the front of the building. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this many words all at one time to anyone before now.”

Nervous laughter followed Tessler’s statements, and Mason stopped beside the old-fashioned, wooden-framed door. The entryway wasn’t all that big, so he leaned himself up against the brick wall to try and create the illusion of more space between them. He wasn’t entirely successful since he could still feel the heat from Tessler standing just a few feet away, and if he stepped any closer, that heat would surely finish drying his clothes.

His eyes met Tessler’s, and his heart began to beat faster inside his chest. He’d fought the enemy in hand-to-hand combat in Afghanistan, and watched a flaming beam crush his leg. Those were things that justified the fear attached to them, but facing Tessler like this? Why did he feel more anxiety in this moment with Tessler than the other times in his life? It made little sense at all.

Mason dropped his gaze and rubbed at the creases in his forehead. He should just ask the guy out and see what he says. Tessler had basically already tossed out the invitation when they were upstairs before Mason had allowed his stupid phone to interrupt that particular discussion. What now? Should he just blurt it out, or wait and see what happened the next time he saw Tessler? But what if he wasn’t lucky enough to see Tessler for a while, then what?

“Jesus, I suck,” Mason said in a hushed tone.

“Excuse me?” Tessler asked.

Mason looked up and tried to paste a confident grin onto his face, which he knew he hadn’t achieved by the curious tip Tessler made with his head. “Upstairs … you said … shit. I wanted to ask … if maybe ...”

Had Tessler inched closer, or was Mason imagining it. Either way, the closer proximity of the man had Mason standing taller against the bricks. He used his free hand to push himself even higher and then lost his leverage on the wall. The cane skidded out from its position on the hardwood floor, and Mason started to topple over. Please, if there is a god, don’t let this happen again—not now.

Mason closed his eyes to prepare for the impact of the floor, but Tessler quickly ate up the short distance between them and wrapped his arms around Mason’s waist to keep him upright. The movement was awkward, to say the least, with their chests and the front of their thighs pressed together, almost like they were embracing. Their noses practically touched, and Tessler’s heavy puffs of breath floated over Mason’s face like a caress. Mason could almost taste the coffee on Tessler’s tongue.

His eyes slowly opened, and Tessler’s magnificent brown eyes were right there to greet him. He could see flecks of numerous colors surrounding his dark irises that made up the unique shade of brown, which Mason had spotted from a distance early on when they’d met. Gold, bronze, and tiny bits of what looked like copper gave Tessler’s eyes a fiery look. It was breathtaking—he was breathtaking, and being this close to the man was wreaking havoc on Mason’s self-control.

Mason’s fist tightened at Tessler’s back, and that’s when he realized he had a handful of his shirt balled up in his palm, as if that action might have stopped him from falling to the floor. He felt the ripple of Tessler’s back muscles shift beneath the fabric, and Mason took a chance and flattened his hand to better feel the man in his arms. His fingers were rewarded with another subtle flex of muscle, and another hot burst of breath bathed Mason’s face as Tessler’s nose nudged his. It was like Tessler was doing everything he could to urge Mason on to kiss him. So what was holding him back?

Mason arched off the wall as if seeking something. His brain seemed to have shut down. He couldn’t think, and then it hit him. It was friction he needed against his cock, which was beginning to strain from the confines of his pants.

“I want your mouth,” Mason whispered almost against Tessler’s lips.

“Then take it.”

Mason growled his approval, then covered Tessler’s mouth with his. There was a brief moment after their lips met where they just held each other and tried to calm their breathing, then Mason’s tongue darted out to taste and Tessler reciprocated. Mason opened wider and swirled his tongue around Tessler’s. One of them moaned; maybe it was both of them, Mason couldn’t be sure. His entire body was throbbing with need, and he felt so alive, like a crackling spark about to ignite into flames.

Mason wrapped both his arms around Tessler’s back and held his body tightly against his own as they continued to kiss. He used his teeth to nip at Tessler’s lips, then sucked on the bottom one, making Tessler hum with pleasure. He swept his tongue back inside the heat of Tessler’s mouth, and a sweet suction met his tongue. Mason thought he’d lose his mind from the sensations racing through him. Tessler worked on his tongue as if it were a cock between his lips, and Mason felt his knees begin to buckle.

Tessler’s body was so warm against him, and hard … Jesus, the man was as hard as stone, in all the right places. Mason was, too. Irrational thoughts of ripping off Tessler’s clothes right here in the hallway sliced through his brain until a car horn sounded outside at the curb across the street in front of the gym. It jolted Mason back to reality, and he pulled out of their kiss. 

“Are you freaking out right now, Mason?” Tessler asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Me too, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean, it proves we’re both—”

“Interested?” Mason finished for Tessler.

“I was going to use the phrase “on the same page,” but I guess interested covers it, too.”

The car horn blared outside a second time, and Mason did his best to stand upright. He removed his phone from his back pocket and typed out a quick message to the driver, telling him he’d be out in a minute, then slid the phone back into his pocket. His eyes found Tessler’s and held.

“Do you … date?” Mason questioned.

“Would you like to?”

“Hell yes—especially after a first kiss that good.” Mason smiled at Tessler and ran the pads of his fingers over his swollen lips.

Tessler’s grin was magnetic. “I think we owe it to ourselves to go out on at least one date after a kiss like that.”

“Definitely.” Mason’s face hurt from smiling so broadly. He felt as if he were fifteen again. Alive and whole, like the cane he leaned on wasn’t a necessary tool for his mobility, and his clothing wasn’t hiding the deep scars left from the fire. He felt … sexually attractive for the first time in ages and desired by a man who he wanted so fucking bad. Jesus, he never thought he’d get this part of his life back—or do so with a man as interesting as Tessler. But would Tessler still be interested in him after he saw what his body looked like beneath the clothing?

“Give me your phone,” Tessler directed.

“Why?”

“So I can put my number into it,” Tessler answered and held out his hand.

“Oh, right.” Mason passed Tessler his cell and watched as he punched in his digits and then handed it back to him.

“That’s my private number, so please don’t give it out,” Tessler said.

“Goes without saying,” Mason said and reached for the door handle. “You’re forgetting I work in security for high profile people. I know the drill.”

“Here, you can put your number into my phone,” Tessler suggested and passed Mason his cell.

A moment later, they were ready to leave. Tessler helped Mason open the door, then leaned against the edge of it. “I’ll never be more protected, then, when you’re around. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Damn right,” Mason said. He offered Tessler a wink before he eased himself off the front steps and back into the rain to cross the street to the waiting car. As soon as he settled into the backseat of the car, he pulled out his phone to send Tessler a text message.