She glanced around the bathroom for a robe or something but saw none. Mason definitely wasn’t a robe-wearing kind of guy anyway. She had used up all the towels last night and had no idea where he kept the spares. She should have brought a change of clothing in here with her and cursed her lack of foresight. She had no choice but to head back into the loft—naked—for her overnight bag.
Mason was back, a cup of coffee in one hand. His eyebrows rose to his hairline when she stepped out of the bathroom, and she could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“What are you doing?” he asked carefully, and she tried not to roll her eyes at the suspicion in his voice.
“Seducing you?” She barely stifled a grin at his horrified expression.
“Oh, baby, you look like you were hit by a truck,” he responded softly, his voice laced with both regret and sympathy. He looked uncertain about whether he should take her seriously or not.
“So, not sexy?”
“You’re always sexy,” he whispered. “Clothed, nude, bruised or not. You’re the sexiest woman I know.”
“Such a blatant lie,” she said, taking the smallest of steps toward him.
“I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”
“Never?” she asked. “What about the time you said we weren’t friends?”
“We weren’t.”
“So what were we?”
“More than that. Always more.”
“More? How much more?” Her question seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he seemed to be in, and he shook his head.
“Get dressed, angel, and enjoy your coffee,” he said, putting the mug on a nightstand. “I’ll grab a shower. And we’ll talk afterward.”
When he finished his shower, he entered the room to find Daisy cuddling both dogs on his bed. She was fussing over them and speaking to them in that annoying voice she always seemed to adopt with Peaches.
“Don’t talk to Cooper like that; he’s not a baby,” he protested, heading to his closet to drag out some clothes and dropping his towel without concern to get dressed. He was aware of her eyes on him at all times and did nothing to conceal his ever-present Daisy-induced erection from her.
After he was dressed, he turned to face her, and she was watching him with unflinching admiration in her gaze and a dreamy smile on her face.
“I like your body,” she said unabashedly, and he fought the grin that threatened to surface. But he couldn’t fight anymore, and it escaped, which seemed to delight her, if her answering smile were any indication.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and just watched her until she shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m angry with you,” he said matter-of-factly, and she sighed heavily.
“I know. I shouldn’t have let the Shar thing—”
“No,” he interrupted impatient. “Enough about fucking Shar. This has nothing to do with Shar or your sister’s aborted wedding. It has to do with the danger you placed yourself in yesterday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t do shit like that, Daisy. You can’t risk yourself like that. There are people who care about what happens to you. People who would be devastated to lose you.”
“I know,” she said in a small voice.
“Do you? Do have any idea how many people would suffer if you got hurt or—or died?”
“I know it would destroy my family,” she admitted.
“Not just your family,” he grated out. “Other people too.” Her eyes were glued to his face, narrowed speculatively as she watched him carefully.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked, and she bit her lip before shrugging.
“Why did you say we weren’t friends?” Why did she keep harping on about that?
“Because I don’t see you as a friend.”
“You don’t? Well, then, you once asked me if I wanted to know what you saw when you looked at me. So I’m asking you now, if you don’t see me as a friend, then what am I? What do you see when you look at me, Mason?”
Mason ran a shaky hand over his head and lifted his eyes to hers, hoping she could see everything he wanted to say in them, hoping she understood, even if he made a mess of his reply.
“Everything,” he grated out. “I see my whole fucking world, Daisy. I see all my days, my weeks, and my years. Every season of my life. All spent with you. I see everything I want, need, and desire all wrapped up in you.”
Well, then.
Daisy ambidextrously petted a dog on each side as she looked at Mason. It was that or throw herself at him and caution to the winds. But she wanted no misunderstandings, no take backs, and no outs this time. There was way too much at stake.
“Do you still think I can’t possibly love you?” she asked seriously, and he swallowed.
“I don’t see how you could,” he admitted hoarsely. “I was your first lover, our entire relationship was built on a lie, and you’ve known me for mere weeks. You don’t have enough experience to know for sure.”
“Well, how do you ever really know if what you’re feeling is true love?” she asked, throwing his own quote back at him, and he smiled grimly.
“You know when you have basis for comparison. You know when everybody else pales in comparison to The One . . . I know because I can’t think of a single reason I found anybody else attractive or interesting or beautiful before you. I know because I love you so much that the thought of not having you love me in the same way hurt so much that I would rather have let you go than accept anything less from you.”
“So you’d let me walk away, even though you love me?” And how absolutely wonderful it was to know that he felt that way about her. But Mason was a stubborn man, and she would not allow him to throw away their future because he had some crazy idea in his head about how much experience she should have before she could possibly genuinely be in love with him.
“No. Not anymore. Not after last night. You’ve had your chance to escape, Daisy. Now you’re stuck with me.”
“Even though my love might be childish and temporary?” She couldn’t resist rubbing that in, and he winced.
“Look, maybe my opinions are a little extreme and dated and seem silly to you—”
“Maybe?” Oh, that felt good. And he grinned, allowing her the delicious retribution.
“I’ve been a prick.”
“Yes. You have. But guess what?”