His parents sputter as Mason grins. “Only if I can whore myself out, too, for a few extra bucks?”
“We’ll talk,” I giggle.
“Done!”
Carl opens his mouth to say something, but Mason whirls back at them with a growl. “No,” he growls. “Not one. Fucking. Word.”
He physically shoves them out of his room and slams the door shut. I dress quickly, my pulse racing at what’s happening right now, while Mason shoves clothes into a bag. He grabs his laptop and some extra hard drives, and then turns to me.
“Layla, I don’t want to drag you into—”
“Too bad,” I whisper. “I’m in it, and you’re coming with me.”
He grins. “Look, I’ll call up some old friends and see about getting a room—”
“Mason,” I smile at him and lean up to kiss him softly. “You’re staying with me. Don’t make me shackle you to my bed.”
He arches his brows. “No, let’s go over exactly what I’d have to do for you to do that.”
I giggle, and he scoops me into him and kisses me slow and deep. Carl and Vanessa are screaming outside his room and pounding on the locked door, and he sighs.
“Should we get the fuck out of here now?”
“I’m calling the cops, you little fucking whore!” Vanessa screeches.
I roll my eyes. “Definitely.”
Mason yanks the door open, startling the both of them. His mother looks down at his suitcase, and her face actually pales.
“Wait, Mason, sweetheart, you’re not seriously—”
“I seriously am,” he growls. “Now move.”
He pulls me past them, and neither of us look back. Neither of us listen to a word of the abuse hurled at our backs as we walk out the front door, down his driveway, and then up mine to my house.