He guides my head with his hand, tilting me to deepen the kiss, licking along my lip and moaning when I open for him.

We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, but it’s so much more than that. I can feel his apology on his mouth. I can taste it on his tongue. His sadness and his guilt, I swallow it and give him my own.

It’s the best and worst kiss of my life, because I know what we went through to have it.

I fist Mason’s shirt and pull him closer. “I like that tent,” I tell him, sucking on his lip. “Maybe enough to give up the bed.”

He smiles. “It’s so lonely in there without you.”

“Take me in there now.”

“Yeah?” He leans away. “Can your injury handle my lovin’?”

Laughing, I kiss his jaw. “You can be sweet, yeah?”

Smiling that gorgeous smile that nearly stops my heart at the same time as filling it, he stands and helps me to my feet.

“I can be sweet for you.”

Mason assists me to the tent. I can put most of my weight on my knee, but not all of it. I have a small limp. Nothing that would prevent me from doing my job.

Thank Christ.

With some assistance, I push the flap aside on the tent and hobble inside. Falling onto my hip, I grab the stuffed koala off the sleeping bag and hug him to my chest.

Oh, my God. Has he been sleeping with this? My heart might burst.

Mason ducks his head and steps inside the tent. He taps the koala on the head. “He’s not so bad. Seems docile compared to his mates.”

I’m smiling, laughing through my pinched lips, until Mason reaches behind him and strips off his shirt.

His shoes and socks follow.

I loosen my hold on the koala and it rolls out of my lap and onto the tent floor. I gaze down at the impressive bulge in Mason’s shorts.

My mouth waters. I am literally salivating at the thought of his cock in or anywhere near my body.

Preferably in. At least touching. I mean, I’ll look at that masterpiece all goddamn day, but here, right now, I need to feel it.

Mason crouches beside me and kisses just below my ear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You with me, sweet girl?”

I close my eyes, nodding, fighting the biggest smile of my life.

“Yes.”

I raise my arms and he strips my shirt over my head. My bra follows.

“Lie back,” he instructs, popping the button on my jeans as I stretch out beneath him.

He’s careful not to brush against my knee as he pulls down my pants. My jeans are discarded. I lift my hips, tugging at the string of my thong, biting my lip when Mason slides them down my legs and tosses them over his head.

He crawls over me. I tuck my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts and tug them down to mid thigh, my toes helping. My breath bursts against his neck. I lick and bite it, running my tongue up to his jaw.

His cock slides against my slit. I feel his hand between my legs, positioning himself.

My legs tremble.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek as he slides in the first inch. “You feel how hard I am?”

I gasp, nodding and clawing at his back. He fills me slowly, stretching me perfectly. I squeeze his neck and lift my legs higher.

The pain in my knee is forgotten. Goose bumps break out across my flesh.

Mason thrusts into me, his pace measured and adoring. He whispers his sorry over and over against my lips, his voice growing incredibly quiet. When I stop hearing it, I close my eyes and feel his mouth moving the words his soul is screaming at me.

No apology has ever been felt like this.

He tells me he’s mine, his body, his heart. I worship him with my hands, roaming over the beautiful planes of his back, squeezing and rubbing his muscles, his trim hips and his ass. I press my lips everywhere, his face, his neck, his shoulders. I tell him that I’m his and I always have been. When he hears my declaration, he moans and fucks me harder. My pussy clenches around him and soaks his cock. Wetness leaks to my ass.

Mason drops his head and circles my nipple with his tongue. He sucks on the other, lifting and squeezing my breast, using his teeth when I beg him for it.

I fist his hair and cry out, arching away from the floor.

“Baby. Missed you,” he rasps, grabbing my face and kissing me hard, rocking into me more steadily, drawing my orgasm. “It killed me being apart, Brooke. I need you here. Need you with me.”

“Forever?”

“Fuck yes, forever. I love you. I will never love anyone else.”

“Mason,” I groan, gasping into his mouth. “If you ask me, I’ll say yes. I’m not scared. I will always say yes to you.”

I feel the rhythm of his heart change.

He growls, leaning back to look at me with wild eyes, his breathing heavy and desperate between us, his jaw clenched tight and sweat dripping down his face. I can see him struggling, trying to slow down the fervent drag of his cock while the muscles in his arms flex and swell on either side of my face.

He loses the battle.

Swearing and moaning my name, Mason pistons his hips and releases inside of me. His orgasm is exquisite, the tensing of his stomach, the noises he makes. He drops his head against my shoulder and pants in hot breaths, only contented for a few seconds before he’s sliding down my body and nuzzling his mouth against my clit.

“Oh . . . oh, God.”

I reach blindly for his hair, my eyes closed in bliss. I feel his hands take mine and link us together on either side of my body, his fingers pressing into the tops of my hands.

My legs shake against his head as he sucks and sucks on my clit. I moan when he blows lightly across it.

“You’ll say yes?” he asks, and I know he’s smiling. I can practically feel it against my skin he’s so close to me.

“Yes,” I breathe.

He squeezes my hands. He rolls his tongue heavily over that smooth bundle of nerves, and I wait, I wait for him to ask while my body tightens and warms all over. I wait while blood rushes in my ears. I strain to hear his voice. Is he asking? The only thing I can hear is my own heartbeat and my answer, over and over as my orgasm pulls me apart.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

I collapse against the sleeping bag, my skin slick with sweat. I feel Mason’s lips on my thigh as he presses them there.

“Will you marry me?” he asks.

Smiling, I look down my body between my legs.

Mason raises his head. He looks so unsure for a man who just got his answer multiple times.

Was I not loud enough?

I sit up and grab his shoulders, pulling him until he’s on top of me. I kiss his mouth. “I’m sorry. What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

His lip twitches. Leaning back a bit, he stares down at me, smoothing his hand over my cheek. “Will you?” he asks, staring at my mouth, waiting for that one word I will never make him wait for.

“Yes.”

He collapses, burying his face in my neck. “Baby.”

“Don’t let go of me.”

I feel the slight shake of his head, his lips on my skin and the wetness leaking from his eyes.

“Never.”

BROOKE

My hands are shaking. Sweat builds up on my palms.

Jesus. How hot are these people trying to make this fucking wedding?

I suppose there’s a bright side to sweating my ass off standing here. If the bride hates the cake, it’ll probably end up melting before she cuts into it anyway.

I’m doing this delivery alone. I wanted it this way, until last night when I cried to Mason and begged him to cancel his classes this morning so he could be here to support me. I took it back immediately when it actually occurred to me that he would do that.

I won’t have him missing anymore classes because of me. He’s missed enough.

Turning my head, I glance at the cake on the table beside me as I wait for the bride. To my standards, I think it looks . . . okay. Maybe better than okay, but I’m not the one getting married.