Chapter 19
Sarah
I walked back to my dressing room after the taping, and I had to grin. Every time I sat on that couch, I could feel Mason’s presence there. Our encounter yesterday had been glorious, I had to admit, but I still wasn’t sure about his proposal. He was essentially proposing we’d be fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. Except I didn’t even know if we were friends. On one hand, there wasn’t any pressure for a relationship. Just fabulous sex and good food beforehand. On the flip side, however, if the press caught on to what we were doing, it could spell disaster for my show and every single premise I’d ever taken from the start of it.
But I wanted to go for it. As I sat down on the couch and sank into the cushions, I imagined I could feel his lips on my neck and his hands on my hips. I could feel the way he pressed me into the wall and hooked his gaze onto mine, going slowly as his dick felt every single part of my walls. Even now, I shivered in my seat at the thought of having him again. Of tasting his dick on my tongue and feeling him pour himself into me time and time again.
And the bit of attention he showed me afterward was a nice touch.
If we could avoid the press, no one had to know about it. My boss couldn’t use it to manipulate the show, and no scandals would be spun in the media to tarnish my name. We could simply enjoy each other’s presence and what we both had to bring to the table. Then, we could go about our lives as successful, independent business owners.
So, instead of waiting until tomorrow to give him his answer, I called him right there in my dressing room.
“Wow,” he said as he picked up.
“What?” I asked, giggling.
“I never would’ve imagined seeing your name scroll across my phone. Ever. I figured I’d have to call you four times tomorrow before you picked up simply because you pitied me.”
“That’s what happens when you’re pity-worthy,” I said, laughing.
“So, to what do I owe this pleasurable phone call?”
“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I’ve come to a conclusion,” I said, grinning.
“Wonderful. Lay it on me.”
“Honestly? I’d rather sit down and talk about it. I think it would help us both to get a clearer understanding of what is actually about to take place.”
“Ah, a face-to-face conversation. Can I get you to promise me you won’t run for the hills the second it becomes a bit too intense for you?” he asked.
“I can’t promise anything other than we’ll have an adult conversation about an adult topic. From there, it all depends on where you want to lay your hat.”
“Intriguing. Okay. I’ll bite. Why don’t you come over to my place once you’ve wrapped up for the day? We can discuss it. Maybe over a glass of wine?”
“Sounds phenomenal. Just give me a minute to wind down from my interview, and I’ll head on over.”
“Rough day at the office?” he asked.
“The interview went a little sideways, yes.”
“What happened?”
“How familiar are you with how Dallas works?” I asked.
“Not really. Enlighten me.”
“There’s a string of clubs in the area. Very popular with the college kids. They’re wanting to expand into a more upscale area, however. They’re keeping the same clubs open, but doing them up a bit differently, I guess you could say.”
“Renovating,” he said.
“You could call it that. They aren’t rebranding, just outfitting the buildings to fit another target audience. Men like yourself, I would think.”
“All right. So, how did the interview go sideways?” he asked.
“I asked him if it would be smarter to open a new place and start that arena fresh instead of trying to rebrand the old buildings. He pulls in a great deal of money from the college crowd. He could easily step into both arenas and double what he pulls every year.”
“I take it he didn’t like the suggestion?”
“I believe his words were, ‘If I wanted a woman’s opinion, I would’ve employed one.’ ”
“Whoa! Please tell me you’re going to air that. I want to see it.”
“Oh, it’ll be aired. We only edit the shows if they’re pretaped.”
“Like the one that interrupted us yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, giggling. “Like those ones.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to your response as well as the social media outrage that’ll occur,” he said.
“Anyway, give me some time and then I’ll be over.”
“See you soon, gorgeous.”
I smiled at his words as I hung up the phone. I put myself together a little bit and swapped out the heavy on-set makeup for something a little more modest. I shook my hair out, giving it some volume before I grabbed my things and headed to my car. Thirty minutes later, I was knocking on his door, and when he opened his home up to me, a glass of wine was thrust immediately to my hand.
“Shall you join me on our couch?” he asked.
“Our couch, hm? Sounds so permanent.”
“Well, we are the only two that have sat on it, and it’s the only piece of furniture besides the table we enjoy.”
“And the bedroom,” I said, grinning.
“I take it the answer to my proposal is a positive one,” he said as we sat down.
“It is. I think you’ll enjoy the answer. But, it comes with a condition.”
“Most wonderful things do. What is your condition?”
“Emma can’t find out.”
I saw him stare at me for quite some time before he took a sip of his wine. We both stared out the window, sipping on our glasses in silence. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but the silence was deafening to my ears. My mind was screaming for him to answer. To say something. To pounce my body. To do anything in this awkward space and time where I’d just admitted keeping something from my best friend.
“That’s fine with me,” he said.
“Wonderful.”
“However, I’m concerned it eventually won’t be okay with you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know much about you, or maybe I know too much, I’m not sure. But I do know you care about Emma.”
“Your sister.”
“Yes. And I know you hate lying. We’re already dodging the press, and I know that worries you. Us getting caught. Are you willing to add another person you have to dodge to the pot? Someone you confide in and trust?”
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d care,” I said.
“I usually don’t. But in this case, if it’s going to be an ongoing thing, it’s natural to do a risk assessment. Keeping something from your best friend—”
“We’re not referring to her as ‘your sister’, are we?” I asked.
“Not really. That adds another risk. Another risk we both need to take into consideration. I’m willing to do it, but you have to communicate with me. If it becomes too much to juggle, running from the press and dodging your best friend, then you have to tell me. It’s no fun when only one party is enjoying themselves.”
“I completely agree. Lines of communication totally open. That goes for you, too,” I said.
“I believe I’ve shown you I have no issues with communicating.”
“This is very true,” I said, sighing.
Just then, my phone rang. I took another sip of my wine as I reached down and silenced it. I wanted to enjoy this time with Mason. This time, where we were actually talking like adults instead of fucking like teenagers. We both sat and enjoyed the sunset as we finished our glasses of wine, and he plucked mine from my fingers before he got up from the couch.
“Refill?” he asked.
“I’d love one,” I said.
But then, my phone rang again.
“Answer that,” he said.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Just make sure. We’re both business owners. Maybe it’s work,” he said.
He stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest, and for a split second, I couldn’t breathe. His icy gaze was intense, and his arms were flexed. It took all the composure I had left in my body to not stride over to him and throw my body on top of his.
I pulled my phone from my purse, looked at the name, and immediately I felt my face pale.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s Emma,” I said as I answered the phone. “Emma. Are you all—wait, wait. I can’t. Emma, take a deep breath.”
I saw Mason move out of the corner of my eye. His hands were down by his sides, and his shoulders were rolled back. He was posturing for a fight, like someone had just hurt his friend. Or his love. Or his child.
Or his sister.
“Hey, hey. Emma, it’s going to be all right, okay? I’m out of town right now, but I’m turning the car around.”
I locked eyes with Mason and sighed. I hung up the phone with Emma and rose to my feet, secretly disappointed I had to leave so soon.
“I’m so sorry, Mason. But Emma’s—”
“Is she all right?” he asked.
“She’s had this on-again-off-again idiotic boyfriend bullshit. Apparently, he’s engaged now? Or something? Even though they went out on a date two weeks ago. I don’t know.
She’s an absolute wreck. In her car and had to pull over because she can’t see. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Let me know when you touchdown safely in town.”
“I will this time,” I said.
He walked me to the door, and I mindlessly lifted to my toes and kissed his cheek. My lips lingered a bit longer than they should have, drinking up his warmth as his hand smoothed along my lower back. Our eyes connected one last time before I started to my car, and he leaned up against the banister of his porch until I was out of sight down the road.
Even as I rode into town on my white horse for my best friend, I couldn’t wait to see him again. The anticipation of what I’d just agreed to was mounting, and I could feel the unused sexual energy coursing through my system. I got home and held Emma all night while she cried, letting her bitch about her pathetic ex while we drank disgusting cocktails and passed out on the couch.
And he was there in my dreams, his lips grazing my stomach as my skin tingled at his presence.