Maybe.
He is! I knew it.
He offered to let me stay here after I told him I was claiming squatter’s rights.
Sure thing, Cami. You know he just wants a piece of that booty.
I blushed. That just wasn’t possible. I wouldn’t get my hopes up.
He probably just feels bad for me.
I didn’t even have to see it, but I knew she was shaking her head and calling me silly right now.
I doubt it. I expect updates, Cami. Let me live vicariously through you as you realize that your Prince Charming has finally found you.
That’s not real life, Soph.
We’ll see!
I rolled my eyes. Seeing that it was shortly after five, I made my way out of the treehouse down to the ground. I wandered back to the house, which was still abuzz with activity. I walked in the front door, and no one stopped me, which was slightly surprising.
The fresh scent of lemons and oranges surrounded me. The hardwood floors sparkled, and the thick air of dust had lessened by a considerable amount. Many of the windows were open and several trucks were driving away loaded up with furniture and garbage.
I looked around and was taken aback by the cleanliness. It no longer felt like an abandoned mansion, but something more akin to a home.
A man cleared his throat and I started. Mason was leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
“I didn’t think I’d see you for dinner,” he said softly.
“I’d like to stay,” I answered hesitantly.
“Good. I had hoped you would. I replaced the locks on all the doors and had a key made for you,” he explained.
I watched him slide it across the table in my direction.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I stared at that metal key. For some reason, seeing it made me feel even more at home. Hesitantly, I walked toward him and picked it up. He watched me closely, but he made no move to approach me.
“Dinner tonight will be simple. Spaghetti and meatballs sound okay to you?” he asked.
“Yes. I’d like that,” I smiled.
“Why don’t you sit down? It’s almost ready,” he grinned.
“Okay. I’ll do that,” I beamed. Maybe this would all work out after all.
* * *
Over the next few weeks, Mason and I settled into an easy rhythm together. He insisted on eating breakfast and dinner with me, which meant that I never had to go searching for a meal. The fridge was always full of fresh fruit and vegetables, which was pretty incredible after living on my own for so long.
There was one time I didn’t finish the food on my plate, and I still remembered the way his voice had raised enough to make me squirm. It hadn’t been the words that he’d said, but the way that he’d said them that made me feel like a very scolded and naughty girl. I’d sat there, blushing and indignant, eating the rest of my dinner while my clit throbbed with unwanted desire.
That night, I’d gone to bed needy. I hadn’t dared to reach my fingers between my thighs because I knew it would be him that I would be imagining if I came that night.
It had almost felt like he’d been warning me, but with what, I didn’t know.
The next night, I purposefully didn’t finish my plate, simply because I wanted to see what he would do. His gaze felt heavy on me as I sat back. He glanced at me and then back to the handful of bites still right in front of me.
“Finish your dinner, Cami,” he instructed. His voice was firm, like he expected obedience and I didn’t much feel like giving it.