I hadn’t gone to the cops yet. All I wanted, right then, was a minute to think this through and calm the hell down.

At one point there, I’d been angry enough to hit Perry myself. Of course, I wouldn’t shut up about this, but for now… I just needed to fucking breathe.

I sat on the stool in my kitchen and leaned my elbows on the top of the island, eyes squeezed shut. What’d happened today was probably the worst possible outcome. I’d been harassed, and Mason had lost control and come to the rescue.

“Goddammit.” I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes, shaking my head. “Goddammit.”

This was too complicated. I’d already figured that part out. It was the next steps that confounded me. Report Perry was top on the list. Maybe not press charges because the dude likely had more than enough money to get a good lawyer—and it was my word against his. And Mason’s word too, but did it count when we were in a relationship? Even if that relationship was just friends with benefits?

And then what? I’d report him to the police and they’d keep an eye on him? Or nothing would happen? If that was the case, what was the damn point of going through with it?

No doubt, news that I’d gone to the cops would spread through Stoneport like wildfire, and the folks of this good town—the ones who didn’t like me—would have a field day with that. I’d be even less likely to settle in here comfortably if they all hated my guts.

I won’t take it. That was just who I’d become.

I’d taken years of shit from Kieran, and I’d be damned if I’d take shit from some guy I met a day ago. “Asshole,” I muttered.

I dropped my hands from my face, straightened my spine, and inhaled. Whatever happened, I’d work it out. I seriously didn’t have a choice here. It was eat or be eaten in life, and I was tired of being on the menu.

My doorbell buzzed, and I checked my watch. It was too early for it to be Kathy, who’d arranged today as the day to check the backyard was puppy-proof.

I pushed off from the stool and walked through to the old front door, still not replaced. I unlocked it and stood my ground against the wave of desire that washed over me.

He was here. So tall and still so handsome, even though his face was clouded by the remnants of anger. His forehead wrinkled like paper that’d been folded, crumpled, then smoothed out again. There were a million words written across it, hidden between the lines.

“Hi,” I said and stepped back to allow Mason entry. “I didn’t expect you to—I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you.”

“I had to come,” he replied and entered.

I shut the door, and Mason took both of my hands in his and squeezed gently. It was as if he was afraid squeezing too hard would break me. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Becca, I’m sorry that happened. That motherfucker…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said and shrugged. “It was pretty damn disgusting, but I’ll survive. It’s not the first time I’ve been groped, unfortunately.”

“Jesus, that makes me angry.”

“You and me both.” I stepped away from him and nodded toward the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

We walked through in silence, but his presence was all I needed to fill it. He was so strong and so there, and it still scared the living crap out of me. I headed for the coffee pot, but Mason took my hand before I got there.

He drew me into an embrace. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

“Fine,” I said and rested my head against his collar bone, inhaling the scent of him. What’d happened earlier was separate from this. Being with Mason was like stepping into a bubble—it was just us. Just his smell and his body, his heart beating against mine. “I’ll be fine.” I looked up at him and snaked one hand up. I cupped his cheek, ran a thumb over the rough stubble there. “What about you? What happened in Crown’s office?”

“I’m fired,” he replied.

“What?! But you were just defending me.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was inexcusable conduct in a place of work. Honestly, I’m lucky if Crown doesn’t report me to the medical review board for unprofessional conduct. Perry’s still threatening to go to the cops and open up a case of assault.”

“Ironic.”

“No, just a shitheel move,” Mason replied. “Which is what he is. I’d expect nothing less. Fuck, Becca, when I saw what he was doing, when he said that to you about… Something just fucking snapped inside me.”

“I know,” I said. “Me too.” I worked my fingers over the stubble, then down the sides of his neck. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thanks for doing that. I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of him. He’s not worth it.”

Mason nodded and tilted his head to one side trapping my hand between his shoulder and neck. It was such a simple, affectionate gesture, but my knees weakened regardless.

“You can’t go back there,” he said, after a beat. “I won’t let him near you again.”

“Mason.” I shook my head then swallowed. It was too hard to concentrate with him this close. I fought against the tide. God, it would be so easy to get swept up in it, in him, even now. “I don’t need you to protect me from him. I’ll be fine. I’m going to go to the cops, and if nothing comes of that, I’ll report him to the medical board for review. He can get his license revoked.”

“Even if you report him, to both the cops and the medical review board, nothing will come of it until the actual review happens. You’ll be stuck there, working with him.”

I wriggled my nose, slipped my hand down to Mason’s chest and felt his heartbeat underneath my palm. “Didn’t Crown fire him?”

“I don’t know,” Mason replied. “He spoke to us separately.”

“Well, I bet my left boob he got fired. Crown knows I’m going to report him to the police. It follows that he’d do the right thing and get rid of the problem before this escalates.”

Mason rested his forehead against mine. “Becca—”

I took a step back, out of reach. “No, Mason. This job is the best thing that’s happened to me in a while, and until I can find something else, I’m going to stick with it. I’m not going to let some creepy ass dude stop me from doing what I want to do.”

“I understand,” he said. “Totally. I just won’t let him fucking near you. I’ll rip his head off and shit down his throat if he tries anything.”

I laughed. “That’s an image.”

“I’m serious.” But the corners of his mouth twitched, regardless. The mood lightened slightly. “Do you need me to take you to the police station?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll do that later. Right now, I just want to forget about all of this and chill.” I walked to the coffee pot and started it up. I still hadn’t had my morning cup, thanks to that handsy asshole, and the lack of caffeine had me grumpy.

Mason walked up beside me. “Let me,” he said and took over. “You sit down.”

I followed the suggestion and watched him work in the kitchen. He was confident, even as he asked where the mugs were, and brought out the sugar and creamer, too. So friggin’ at ease within himself. I adored that about him.

Whoa there. Adore is a little too close to love for comfort.

Regardless, I rose from the stool again and walked up to him. He stopped what he was doing and stared at me, the sugar pot still clasped in his hand. It was so big, it dwarfed the item—made him look like he was a giant.

He raised an eyebrow at me. I licked my lips.

“Tell me what you want, Becca,” he said, softly. “And I’ll give it to you. Whatever it is, angelface, you’ve got it.”

The words were similar to those he’d said yesterday, and they invoked the same reaction. I was weak-kneed, trembling to be closer to him, to collapse in his arms. It sucked having to be strong all the time, but this man was strong enough for twenty of me. I could shake with him. I could moan with satisfaction. I could break down.

“Becca,” he breathed.

“I just want you,” I said and swallowed. “All the time. I don’t know why.”

“All the time,” he agreed. “I can’t work it out either. Every time I look at you—” He cut off and took a step forward.

I whimpered, involuntarily.

The sugar pot dropped from his fingertips and struck the counter top. Crystals sprayed everywhere, but I couldn’t have cared less. He slipped one arm around my waist, his free hand traveling to my ass.

The kiss seared through me. His tongue massaged mine, our breaths mingled, and I fell into him and kissed him back, hard and fast.

Mason lifted me onto the counter, shoving the coffee mugs to one side. They rattled along the granite, fell off the edge, and crashed to the floor. None of the chaos mattered. It was me and him.

His lips, my lips. His hand shifting down my spine, fingertips digging into my flesh, scouring away the icky feelings from earlier. Mason wiped the slate clean.

My fingers popped the top button of his jeans, and I worked them toward his zipper, losing my breath against his lips.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled and sucked my bottom lip between his teeth. He nipped it, sucked, then released it. “My perfect woman. Angelface. Fuck.”

“I need you,” I managed. “Take me here. Please.”

“I told you, Becca. Anything for you. Anything.” He cupped my breast through the fabric of my blouse and squeezed gently.

“More,” I groaned. “Mo—”

A curt tap on the front door, followed by the buzz of my doorbell, cut off the words.

The tension between us snapped. I blinked. “Shit,” I said.

“Who is it?” Mason stepped back, clearly sensing the moment had passed. He buttoned up his jeans, then took me by the waist and lifted me down from the counter, setting my feet firmly on the ground.

I swallowed at the show of strength. “It’s Kathy. From the sanctuary. She’s coming to check that the backyard is puppy- and alligator-proof.”

Mason nodded as the doorbell rang again. “You get that,” he said. “I’ll take care of the mess in here. Dustpan?”

“Last cupboard on the left, at the bottom.”

“On it.”

We grinned at each other stupidly, and genuine joy settled in my chest again. The warm fuzzy feeling was punctuated by another knock at the front door, then a trickle of fear.

I’ve let him in too far already. What if it’s too late?

“I’ll be right back,” I said and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving the gorgeous doctor to clean up our mess.

Well, some of it, at least.

The mess we’d created officially extended past sugar and broken mugs. If I wasn’t careful, there’d be more fragile pieces on the line.