Eye Candy

I didn’t know. I tipped my head back, looking at him. “If they did, it would’ve been that first drink at the club. That was when I saw him first.”

He ran another hand down my hair, tucking some stray strands behind my ear. His thumb brushed over my cheek lovingly. “You should get checked out. Do you want to go to the hospital?”

“No.” I clasped my arms around him, hugging him. “I want to stay here with you. I’m sure it’ll leave my system by tomorrow.”

“You sure? What about the others? Were they drugged too?”

No one had said anything about a robed guy. They’d all acted normal, just drunk. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Sam.” Concern weighed heavy in his eyes.

I shook my head again. “No. I’m really okay. Or I will be.” I pushed myself up, covering his lips with mine. I tugged him back down until he was lying halfway on top of me again. “This is what I need. This is all that I need.”

His body shook again, but one of his hands ran down my side and then pushed up under my shirt. It rested over my ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of my breast. He lifted his head. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I gave him a look, then hooked my leg around his. I pulled him down at the same time I pushed up against him. We both moaned from the contact. He was right there. I could feel how hard he was, and he was aching to be inside me just as much as I wanted him. “I just want you. Only you.” I ran my hand down the side of his face, my finger caressing the side of his mouth, and then I kissed him. My lips covered his, and I felt him surrender. He’d come home, and we fit together again. Just like always.

Before long, he was sliding inside of me, and I gasped, arching my back. This was how it always was supposed to be. Then he paused, pulled out, and began to thrust back in again. I locked my legs around him and moved my hips with his.





Chapter 7


Everyone was hungover the next morning.

I woke around nine, washed up a little, pulled on pajama pants and a sweatshirt, then trudged out to the kitchen. Mason wasn’t far behind, wearing just his sweatpants that dipped deliciously low on his hips. I made coffee as he started up the stove. Bread was in the toaster when Taylor and Logan joined. They took their coffee with smiles of thanks, then sat behind the kitchen table. They moved to the farthest seats. When the toast was ready, Mason put it on a plate and added it to the table. Butter, knives, and a handful of empty plates went next.

Without a word spoken, Logan started buttering the toast. He passed the finished pieces to Taylor, and by that time Courtney and Grace had joined us. They paused, their eyes wide and lingering on Mason, before gulping and averting their gaze. They sat, and Taylor gave them the first pieces of toast.

I gave them coffee too, then started another pot.

Mason began making bacon and eggs. I couldn’t move away from him, not even if I tried to force myself. After fidgeting while the coffee was brewing, I ended up leaning against the counter and resting my head against his upper arm. It bulged under my touch. My hand rubbed down his back, ending and curling in on his sweatpants. It was my anchor, and I loved the feel of it.

Mason dropped a soft kiss to the top of my head, then went back to cooking. When the eggs and bacon were done, he placed them on a plate, and they went onto the table along with everything else. He came back and continued cooking, and I resumed resting my head against his upper arm.

Courtney and Grace took their turn. They scooped up the food and plated it, passing the plates back to Logan and Taylor, who were nibbling on their own pieces of toast now.

Heather shuffled in, yawning big, and she waved a hand to everyone. One of her eyes was still closed. She passed me by, going to sit next to Taylor. I held out a cup of coffee. She took it on the way there, not pausing a second, and took her seat.

Courtney put a piece of bacon on a plate. Grace stopped eating hers, and put an egg on the plate. Logan added two pieces of toast, and Taylor slid the plate right in front of Heather. She smiled, her eyes sweeping over everyone in the room.

Nate was the last. He paused in the doorway, a hand rubbing at his stomach, and he grinned at everyone. He frowned at Mason, noting his shirtless state, and shook his head. Logan snorted from the table, but that was the only response. Nate came over to hug me, then dropped down in the closest seat to Logan.

Mason added more food to the table.

I finished the last pot of coffee, pouring two new mugs for Mason and myself.

Logan, smirking, pulled off his shirt and tossed it across to Mason. It was caught and it was pulled on, and now the shirtless one was Logan. Nate stopped, his eyes skirting between the brothers, and shrugged. He pulled his own shirt off, winking at Courtney, before hunching back over his plate.

When Mason and I sat, our food was already waiting for us.

Everyone ate and thirty minutes passed. Not one word was spoken. I held Mason’s hand under the table the entire time.

Best. Breakfast. Ever.

*

Two hours later

I was sitting on the curb, a pumpkin on the street between my feet, a large carving knife in my right hand. Heather was next to me, holding the same thing. I brought my knife down, embedding it deep into the gourd, and I cut away the stem. Yanking it up, I cleaned off the first of the pumpkin’s guts.

Heather grunted, her hand covered in pumpkin goo. “Why did we get stuck doing the damned pumpkins?”

I went back to hacking at the thing. “Courtney and Grace went to their apartment, and the guys are going to finish decorating that haunted house for tonight. I don’t know where Taylor is.” A second thrust, and I had the first eye out. I paused. “Should I hollow it out first, then cut the face?”

Heather stopped, half her pumpkin’s insides on the street between us. She considered it, then shrugged. “Makes sense, but is there a wrong way to gut a pumpkin?”

“If we gut ourselves first?”

“Touché.” She pointed her carving knife at me. “Got any homicidal tendencies I should know about?”

I grinned. “I was a dark hooker last night.”

“You were the angel of darkness. Different thing.”

“You’re right. That would’ve meant homicidal tendencies.” I set down the knife and plunged my hand in. “No tendencies that I can think of, although . . .” I paused.

“What?”

“I think someone slipped something into my drink at the nightclub.”

“What?!” She sat up. “Did you tell Mason?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I was fine. I downplayed it a bit.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Did you have any side effects from it?”

“I was hallucinating. Kept thinking I saw some guy in a black robe and mask.”

“Mask? Like a Scream type of mask?”

“Kinda. The face wasn’t pronounced. There were no eyes, nose, or mouth. It was just white.”

“That’s freaky as fuck.”