Savor Me

I look around the slowly emptying shop before answering. "One kiss. Then you leave."

"Yes, ma'am. I would take offense to that, but I know you are just excited about watching my ass when I walk away." He grabs me around the waist and pulls me tight against his body. He leans forward, dipping me like in a 1950s movie before kissing me senseless. I completely forget that I'm at work as I get lost in everything Hunter.

I offer a wide smile when he puts me back on my feet. "That was more than a goodbye kiss."

"Yeah, I know. Consider it a preview." He chews on his bottom lip, fully aware that it’s a sexy look for him.

"The previews always were my favorite part of the movie," I flirt back.

"Oh really? My favorite part is usually the climax." He smiles again before leaning forward and kissing me on the forehead. "See you tonight, sugar."

I roll my eyes but can't wipe the smile from my face as he saunters out the door.

Just as I turn to get back to work, I catch sight of Mason's brooding eyes through the front window. I offer him a little wave, but he only nods and sulks away behind Hunter.



TIGHT JEANS. CHECK.

Tight white tank top revealing a few inches of my midriff. Check.

A brand-new pair of pink and black cowboy boots I rushed out to buy just because I thought the guys would like them. Check.

An overwhelmingly odd feeling of excitement to see Hunter and especially Mason again. Fucking check. Damn it.

"Holy shit, sugar! You cowgirled up!" Hunter says with a huge smile on his face.

"I wanted to fit in." I melt into his arms when he pulls me into a long hug.

"I'm sorry. You are going to do anything but fit in here tonight. There isn't going to be a man in the arena who isn't going to be imagining taking you for a ride. And the woman are going to absolutely hate you.”

"I do look pretty hot, right?" I laugh, wondering why I didn't try this look long ago.

"At least you're modest." He gives me a wink and wraps an arm around my shoulder, guiding me inside. He takes me to our seats on the upper level of one the bleachers. "Mason's first division is up next. You’ll be able to see better from up here." He reaches down, intertwining our hands, absentmindedly bringing them to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. He drops them into his lap, and I can't take my eyes off such a simple gesture as holding hands. I look over at Hunter to see him looking around the arena, and a warm feeling slides through my body. I'm struck by how normal and comfortable this feels to be here with him.

"Hey." I catch his attention. "I want a taste." I glace down at his lips just in time to see his tongue dart out to moisten them.

"I'm always available for sampling." He leans down, placing several gentle kisses to my mouth, barely swiping his damp tongue across my bottom lip. "Better?" he asks with a crooked smile.

"Much." I rest my head on his shoulder, and even though I should, I never release his hand.

A few seconds later, the show ring begins to fill with horses. I immediately find Mason on top of a beautiful dappled gray. Just as I thought, Mason is gorgeous on a horse. He effortlessly rides around the arena. The huge animal moves under him even though Mason’s hand never moves to give direction. Only the slight twitch of his leg has the horse changing direction. It’s fascinating to watch. Just before the class begins, Hunter stands, pulling me with him, and lets out a loud wolf whistle. Mason’s eyes briefly scan the crowd before landing on us. He gives a small nod in our direction and immediate turns away.

“Does he ever smile?” I ask Hunter.

“Ha! He is a serious bastard sometimes. But yeah, he’s actually funny as hell. It just takes him a while to warm up to new people. He likes you already though. He usually sits out completely the first time with a new girl.”

“He said y’all have known each other since you were kids.”

“Yeah. His dad was a real asshole so he basically lived at my house growing up.”

“Well, I guess that’s where he gets it from them. Chip off the old block, huh?”

Hunter’s head snaps around to me. “No,” he says firmly. “Mason is nothing like his father. Ray Wynn was an abusive, worthless prick. He was a drunk and blamed Mason for all of his failures. Don’t ever compare him to Ray.”

“Wait, what?” I whisper as my heart sinks.

“His mom left when he was around ten, and Ray blamed Mason for her leaving. He was a fucking kid, so I have no idea how he rationalized that, but I guess he needed someone to blame. Our dads had been friends since high school, so when Ray went off the deep end, Dad did the best he could to shield Mason. He made up reasons why Mase needed to stay with us for weeks at a time. On more than one occasion, he left in the middle of the night, only to return a few hours later with a battered Mason in tow.”

I turn back to the ring and watch Mason as he trots around. My heart breaks imaging what he experienced growing up.