-twenty-

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A V E R Y
When I awoke, it took me a second to realise that, no, I had not been kidnapped or taken hostage again - I was in Mason's safe house. Mason himself was sleeping next to me.

During the night, it seemed we had almost... gravitated towards each other, and now I was curled into his chest, both of his arms wrapped around me tight. This close to him, I smelt the boyish scent that radiated from him as well as that familiar cologne, light and musky.

His features were softened in the way only sleep could do to a person - the tight lines of his body relaxed, and his face looked so much younger. His dimples were barely there, just slight dents in his tanned cheek. If I hadn't mentioned it before, I'll say it again.

Mason Woods was hot. Extremely so. Almost too good to be true.

I lifted my head up a little from where it was curled into his chest, and saw from the windows that I was up early. It was dawn, and the sun was just beginning to rise, light peeking up over the horizon tentatively.

My gaze returned to Mason again, and maybe it was because I was so close to him, or maybe because I was delirious, but, damn it all, my eyes focused on his mouth, the bow of his lips, how it would feel to-

What is wrong with you, Avery? Get a bloody grip on yourself.

I was about to look away, but it seemed as if the world was against me, because it was at that moment that Mason's eyes flicked open, clear as day.

'Admiring the view, love?' His voice was a rasp, and lord help me, my toes curled at the sound of it.

'Oh don't be so vain.' I retorted, my voice cool, a contrast to my hammering heart. 'And besides, I look better than you.'

He glanced pointedly at my hair, and I mentally screamed at myself for not making it look decent. When I reached up to smooth it down from the nest it had made itself, a warm hand clasped my wrist. 'Don't. I like it. You look cute.'

I blinked at him, about to pull away, but his hand released my wrist and grasped my hand instead. I sucked in a breath, suddenly finding it hard to breathe when he looked at me like that.

'Why?' I whispered, 'Why do you look at me like that?'

He leaned closer to me, his head bent, 'Because something about you intrigues me, Avery Green. And I would like to figure what it is. Though I have an idea.'

'What is it?'

He kissed my nose lightly, and I ignored the roiling of butterflies in my stomach. 'I'm not going to tell you.' Mason grinned, that nefarious dimple appearing. My stomach flipped, but again I ignored it.

'Prick,' I muttered, and made to pull away. He chuckled, the sound skittering along my spine, and refused to let go.

It was then that I realised that I wasn't in the towel and robe that I'd fallen asleep in last night. I had shorts on and a huge white shirt. 'Why the bloody hell am I changed?'

My face must've been outraged, because Mason winced almost imperceptibly. 'You were soaking wet in that robe. I couldn't leave you like that, could I? I changed you, and I swear I didn't look. You were making me all wet.'

Curse my dirty mind, but his words were so serious that I couldn't help but laugh. 'You don't even know what you just said.'

A brow flicked up. 'What did I say, then?' His voice was a throaty purr by now, and, yep, my toes were definitely at the point of fracturing, they'd curled up so much.

I tilted my face higher, so that when I spoke, I was close enough to kiss him. 'You said something that sounded extremely wrong when you put it in context, Mason?' He didn't even flinch, the bastard.

'Did it make you uncomfortable, love?'

'Not in the slightest. Now shut up so I can get a few more hours of sleep before I have to go.' He nodded, and I tucked my head into the soft space where his neck met his shoulder. I didn't think about the consequences of being so close to him because I didn't want to. I wanted one day where I could do what I wanted, without overthinking it to the point of brain malfunction.

We slept for another few hours after that, and when I woke up again, it was twelve in the afternoon. The bed beside me was cold, the blanket fully wrapped around me and tucked in. I didn't do it.

Mason did.

As soon as I thought it, instead of denying it until my dying breath, I accepted it.

Yes. Mason liked me. Enough to let me steal his body heat and tuck me in when he got up.

And... I was okay with that. More than okay, even.

Happy.

I threw back the blanket and went into the bathroom to freshen up. Once out, I shoved on yesterday's leggings and my hoodie. I wasn't quite at the point where I could wear Mason's clothes yet. I didn't think he was either.

In the light of day, the house suddenly seemed so much more... spacious. The marble floors transformed into carpeted areas from one room to the other.

I crept into the kitchen and saw Mason moving around, the smell of chocolate and pancakes in the air. He was moving about effortlessly, form one counter to the other, pouring and whisking.

'What are we having for breakfast? Pancakes?'

If he was stunned about how I had just appeared, he didn't let on. He just threw me one of those knee-wobbling smiles. 'No. We're having crepes.'

'I didn't know you could cook.'

'There are a lot of things you don't know about me.'

'Then tell me something I don't know, Mason. Enlighten me.'

At that, at least, he looked surprised. 'Hmm... Okay. My mum died when I was little, just after she gave birth to my brother, Leo. She had severe bleeding, and died within hours of Leo's birth.'

I blinked. 'Shit. I'm sorry.' Then, after a beat, 'I didn't know you had a brother.'

Mason sighed, cracking his knuckles.

'Ew, dude, don't do that.'

'Sorry.' He laughed. 'As for my brother... He isn't involved in all the DM stuff - he may be a pain in my ass most of the time, but the one condition I had when working for my father is that Leo would never be involved with it. Ever.'

That, at least, I could understand. The need for your family to be protected and safe whilst you went out to do all the dangerous things.

'What's he like? Leo?'

A warm laugh from him. 'He's great - two years younger than me, at sixteen, he has enough opinions on the world that he could give my father a run for his money.'

I smiled, picturing this boy, one of the only people Mason cared about and protected.

'He hates action films, enjoys a night-in with rom-coms-'

'My kind of guy.'

'-Leo loves anything sporty, and was debate team champion three years running.' I laughed loudly, Mason echoing it, and then he spoke again. 'He's a good guy. I want him to be able to make mistakes and stupid choices in his life so he can learn.'

'Where is he now?' I asked, relishing the mouthful of crepe I had just shoved into my mouth.

'In his flat, just in the next town over. I wanted a good life for him.' And then, in a quieter voice, hands shoved in his pockets, 'My mum would've wanted a better life for him.'

He called his mum 'mum' and his dad 'father'. Perhaps because one was a relationship full of love, of warmth and quiet joy. The other, though I didn't know much, was founded on hate and anger and isolation.

I swallowed the last mouthful of strawberries, and crossed the distance between us. Then I hugged him. A true, meaningful hug - though I didn't know what it meant exactly.

'Can I see it?' I said into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his arms seep through my clothes as his arms held me around me.

'Okay.'

He pulled back, a tinge of uncertainty in his face. It was gone in a second, but, nevertheless, I had seen it. I squeezed his hand where it was about to pull back the sleeve of his shirt.

'You don't have to.'

'I know. But I want to.'

A tug, and the sleeve was pushed back, exposing the tanned skin of his forearm. About six inches up from his wrist lay the tattoo.

To any other person, who had no clue of what really went on with all the gangs and crime in the city, it would've looked like a normal, if not strange, tattoo. The letters 'D' and 'M' were almost obscured by the whorls and lines running over it, and only if you stared hard enough could you make out the letters.

Subconsciously, my fingers reached out the trace the lines of the tattoo. It was beautiful, if not slightly gothic. Dimly, I heard Mason suck in a breath, and I pulled my fingers away hastily.

'Sorry.'

'Don't be.'

'Okay.'

I looked up into his eyes, suddenly so solemn, and let my fingers rest on his face. 'I don't care about it. I don't care about any of it. In truth, I thought you'd be more of a stuck bad boy, but I was wrong.' Raw emotion, soft and inviting, settled on his features. His muscles loosened. 'There's something about you, Mason, that intrigues me. And I, too, would like to find out what it is. If you'll let me.'

His throat bobbed, and he nodded, silent. I guided his arm up and softly, so softly, kissed his tattoo.

'I am not afraid of who you are, Mason. You shouldn't be either.'

Something told me that Mason didn't like what he did sometimes. I didn't blame him - a job like his, a father so cruel. He probably hated himself sometimes.

And this time, I pulled him into my arms and we stayed there for a good long while, me holding him until he was content to let go.

'You're exactly as I thought you'd be.'

'What's that?'

'I'm not going to tell you.'

'You're a stubborn piece of shit, you know that?'

'Ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black?' I laughed, holding him closer to me.

I was about to let go, my hands releasing from around his waist, when his voice murmured into my hair.

'Not yet. I want to stay like this a little longer.'

So we did.

***

Aww, I'm shipping these two so hard, even as I write this 😂

Thank you for the continued support! I read every comment, and I love them all.

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-M

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