Reputation (Mason Family 2)

She slaps my stomach. I laugh, bending forward to cover my skin from another whack that’s probably coming.

I look over to see her making a face while she squirms away from me. I lunge toward her, wrapping my arm around her far side and dragging her into me.

Nestling her against my chest, I tuck her head beneath mine and exhale.

God, if you could pause time right now, that would be great.

We both face the window, our legs laced together, and our arms wrapped around one another's. Our breathing finds a rhythm as we lay in the quiet of Bellamy’s bedroom.

“I’m going to have to do the walk of shame at some point,” I tell her. “Think my mom will mind?”

She laughs. “You’re too old to care what your mom thinks.”

“Um, no. Never.” I make a face even though she can’t see it. “I always value my mom’s opinion, thank you.”

“Are you her favorite?”

“Me?” I snort. “That would be Oliver.”

“I didn’t think it was ever the second child?”

“It is in our family.” I pull her tighter if at all possible. “He’s probably the best looking out of us all.”

“I beg to differ.”

She can’t see my grin, but it’s there.

“Oliver is also probably the smartest out of us all. Well, I don’t know. Wade’s pretty damn smart. It might be a toss-up there. Oliver also has the best balance of personality. He’s funny like Boone, can control a boardroom like Holt, can crunch numbers like Wade, and can talk his way out of about anything.”

“Like you?”

“Like me.”

She laughs. “I don’t know if I agree with all of that, but I see your point.”

“You have a thing for Oliver now?”

“Maybe.”

I hold both of her hands with one of mine and tickle the crook of her hip with my free one. She shrieks, squirming in my arms and sashaying her ass into my cock.

“Be careful,” I whisper in her ear as I stop tickling her. “I might get a fourth wind.”

She gives her ass one final shake but relents.

We lay quietly. I wonder what Bellamy is thinking, but I don’t dare ask. Her head is a scary place.

But, then again, so is her life.

Instinctively, I hug her tighter.

She smells like amber and feels like silk, and I’m not sure how I’m ever going to crawl out of his bed and be the person I was when I climbed in. This feeling is every love song I’ve ever sang, every emotion I’ve tried to elicit with a constructed lyric. It’s calm in the midst of an unpredictable world. It’s safe when nothing else feels solid. It’s like the last piece of the puzzle that you find under the rug snapped into place, and the hours of searching for that one tiny piece finally pays off.

Now that I’ve experienced it, I’m not sure how I’ll ever be with someone who doesn’t evoke this kind of reaction.

But no one else ever has.

I’m not sure anyone else ever will.

I press a soft kiss to the top of Bellamy’s head.

Her phone buzzes on the nightstand in front of her. I release my grip on her so she can reach it.

She looks at the screen and laughs. Her fingers fly over the keypad.

I’m curious, but I don’t want to ask. It’s not my business.

But I can’t take it either.

“Is that Riss?” I prod.

“Nope.”

“Boone?”

“Nuh-uh.”

My lips twist in frustration as she looks at me over her shoulder. Her hair hits the middle of her back. I wind it around my fist and tug her head backward.

She grins. “What?”

“Who is it?” I ask, pretending to grumble.

“Suit.”

The words are crisp and cheery. This mischief in Bellamy’s eyes tells me that Suit and I aren’t going to be friends.

“Suit, huh?” I snatch the phone out of her hands.

She gasps and reaches for it. I roll over and look at the screen.

Suit: You didn’t get back with me.

Me: Sorry. Got busy.

Suit: Want to meet up tonight?

Me: Sorry. Busy.

Suit: Tomorrow?

“What the fuck is this?” I ask as she tries to climb over my side and grab the phone. “What kind of name is Suit, anyway?”

“It’s what I call him.”

I look at her in suppressed amusement. “Let me guess—he wears a suit.”

She nods, laughing.

“So, what am I saved under? Stud?”

“You are not saved under anything.”

“I’m not in here? At all?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t save your number.”

I pout.

“I hate you, remember?”

I snort. “I think we’ve established that is untrue.”

“I don’t hate your cock.”

“Facts.”

My thumbs swipe across the keypad. Bells tries her best to see what I’m doing, but I block her with my shoulder.

“Coy …”

“I’m adding my number.”

“That better be all you’re doing.”

I finish my little project and hand her phone back to her with a smug grin of satisfaction.

She scrolls through her address book and sees my number saved as Stud. She rolls her eyes.

“It fits,” I say, shrugging.