“Oh, don’t worry,” I laughed. “I plan to.”
*
The infinity pool at the resort looked about ten times as big as the one at Noah’s TriBeCa apartment and rather than views of city lights, it boasted grassy mountains, moonlight and stars beaming over the never ending ocean. At each corner of the pool were four cabanas, their saffron curtains pulled open to show off the plush couches and chaise lounges inside. But they remained mostly empty since the younger guests of the Leo-Tully wedding were all gathered around the pool, either splashing inside or sitting at the edges with their legs dipped in, beachy garnished cocktails in hand.
I plucked the maraschino cherry off my piña colada and popped it into my mouth, shaking my damned head as I eyed Mason. He had clearly taken his dip with Noah already because he was still dripping wet and looking downright lick-able in his black swim trunks. Blatantly ogling him, I had to remind myself that technically, at least in this moment, that man was mine. That athletic build with all those wet, godly muscles reflecting more than their fair share of moonlight – that was mine to run my hands all over and sink my frickin’ teeth into if I wanted.
“Spotted,” Sofia smirked when Mason’s gaze found me from across the pool. It sparkled with the same instant need that I’d seen in his eyes at Noah’s party but this time, he sat stunned as I went over to him, letting the gentle breeze blow my robe lightly open.
“I have a new proposal that we take back everything I said on the plane,” he said, pulling me to sit sideways on his lap when I reached him.
“Nah,” I smirked. “This is your punishment.”
“For what? Decades of being an asshole before I met you?”
“Yes.”
“Well considering how much it already hurts, I’d say it’s pretty fitting,” Mason said, running his hands over my bare legs. I knew there were people doing everything from peeking at us to flat-out watching us, but I was no longer self-conscious about having an audience. I had better things on my agenda – like simply watching Mason touch me as if it were all he wanted to do for the remainder of the night. Running his hand along my cover-up, he pushed it slightly open to expose one lacey white triangle. Seated on him, his mouth was at the level of my breast. I writhed a little. Catching the look in his eyes, I was convinced for a second that he’d shove me down right there and tear the bikini clean off my body. Instead, he looked up at me. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?” he asked seriously.
The breeze blew my hair against his carved cheekbones. “I think I might now.”
“Good,” Mason murmured, his blue eyes fixated on mine. “But I don’t think you know,” he wet the slow curve of his lips, “just how fucking long I’ve thought you were.”
/>
“What?”
“The sexiest, most fucking beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.”
My heart fluttered. “Then tell me.” I settled in on his lap. “Tell me your first memory of me.”
Mason broke into a gorgeous smile. “Honestly? It’s not that romantic because it was through text. Aaron was pretty pleased with himself so he sent me some pictures of the girl he was seeing. I’ll admit my reaction was to call him and ask where the fuck he’d found you.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Really now. What picture was it?”
“Just some shot of you sitting across from him at a restaurant. It was summer and it was outside. You were wearing a dress that was… actually a pretty similar material to this,” Mason said, thumbing the edge of my bikini bottom, his fingers unknowingly teasing the hell out of me. With a little groan, he laughed to himself. “And something about your smile told me Aaron didn’t fucking deserve you, but that was probably irrational. And it was probably just me being annoyed by how smug he was over you.”
“I bet,” I rolled my eyes, wondering if half of Aaron’s motivation to date me came from the fact that he knew Mason liked the way I looked. But I didn’t wonder for long because I genuinely didn’t give much of a shit about my relationship with Aaron anymore. I was surprised by how little nostalgia I felt for him despite Mason’s trip down memory lane. “Well, what about the first memory you have of meeting me in person?” I asked.
“You don’t remember?”
“No? Should I?”
“Considering how insanely pissed off you were, yeah. Probably.”
I frowned, trying hard to sort through my memories but I couldn’t come up with the first time I’d met Mason face to face, or why I would’ve already been pissed. Studying the troubled look on my face, Mason laughed.
“Alright, don’t hurt yourself,” he said, catching my hand before I could smack him. “It was on Aaron’s birthday three years ago. You asked him to let you into his apartment and give you the day so you could clean for him and set the place up all nice for whatever dinner you were cooking. You wanted him to stay out with his friends till eight o’clock so you’d have the time to get everything perfect. But I got him shitfaced by six-thirty, so he wound up needing to go home and pass out for a little before mustering up the energy to eat whatever meal you’d just slaved over. It was…” His laugh sounded almost nervous. “Bad. Really fucking bad. I still remember how you looked at me when I carried him into the apartment, and that was the first day we ever met.”
“Oh my God.” My mouth hung open as I suddenly remembered the day I’d probably pushed from my memory out of pure rage. I was still in my honeymoon stage with Aaron and I’d decided to make his birthday the hugely elaborate affair I’d never had for any of mine, so I spent a week researching recipes, pulling favors from our favorite vendors at Vandermark and gathering the most beautiful array of flowers, candles and dinner ingredients. I ended up with an absolutely perfectly curated spread gathered from the top florists, decorators and gourmet markets from all five boroughs and even some farms upstate. I slept barely a wink the night before because I was so excited to create this masterpiece of an evening for Aaron, but he wound up staggering drunk into the apartment, sleeping through dinner and waking up around midnight to stuff some of my herb roasted lamb loin in his mouth before going back to bed and throwing it up an hour later. “Oh… my God,” I breathed, letting the memory sink in. “Oh my God, I’m getting so pissed off just thinking about it again!” I laughed in disbelief, smacking Mason repeatedly and so hard even Noah yelled at me from a few chairs down.
“I’m sorry!” Mason dodged me with a giant grin on his face. “I didn’t realize you had all that planned for him. He didn’t tell me. And look, I was pretty drunk myself that day but I could already tell when I walked into the apartment and saw you that you were way too fucking good for him. I’d never seen his place that clean and I’d never smelled food that incredible so yeah, definitely the one time in my life I felt jealous of Aaron.”
I covered my face with my hands. “My hair was a mess. I remember I was sweating and I was covered in flour and lemon juice and probably a bunch of other stuff.”
“Yeah, well,” Mason laughed. “You still looked better than anything I’d ever laid my eyes on in my life and I remember looking at you and just selfishly fucking wanting you right away.” Mason slipped his hand under my robe, stroking the small of my back. “I think I had ten fantasies about how to steal you from Aaron before you even told me your name,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw as he smirked at himself. “It was pretty rough, but you definitely made it easier on me when Aaron started distancing himself from me. From the family.”
I frowned, confused. “Why?”