Mason flipped the covers back and made to get out of bed, but Colt hugged him tighter to him. Pleasantly trapped, Mason settled back into Colt’s embrace, but the dogs weren’t impressed. While Marley stayed on the floor, Diesel jumped up onto the bed and started licking both Mason’s and Colt’s faces.
“Yuck!” Colt made exaggerated spitting and gagging noises. “I don’t want your tongue in my mouth, dog.”
Mason started laughing. “Didn’t I tell you to watch out for Diesel? He’s big on French-kissing unsuspecting hoo-mans.”
Mason sat up and pushed Diesel off the mattress before he slid out of bed himself, much to Colt’s dismay, going by his whine. Mason looked over his shoulder to find Colt with his face buried in the pillow.
“Be right back,” he said, earning a grunt in response.
Mason pulled on a pair of jeans and ran down the hall to open the front door. “Out you go, troublemakers.”
He grinned as the dogs charged outside into the warm pastel sunrise. He watched them doing their morning zoomies while he stretched his arms over his head and smiled. Maybe he would make breakfast for Colt this morning. A leisurely breakfast in bed. Another slow and thorough lovemaking.
This morning in particular, he wanted to take his time before making an appearance. His staff were going to want to know what had happened with John.
His mood threatened to dive-bomb as the reminder of John’s betrayal crept in. He wasn’t ready to field everyone’s questions. To look into all their faces and wonder if they’d known what John had been up to. If they had taken part with him. If he could still trust them. Anger bubbled up from his toes. Damn John for making him question his faith in others.
He returned to his room, to Colt, with every intention of crawling back under the covers with him, but Colt was sitting up. The blankets pooled in his lap to reveal his muscular chest with a light smattering of hair over his pecs. He was staring at his cell phone, and his face was marred by a frown and furrowed brows.
A chill ghosted over Mason’s bare skin.
“What is it now?”
Colt glanced up at him, and Mason could see the debate going on behind his eyes as clear as if it was a neon sign over his head.
“Nick texted and left a couple of messages,” Colt said carefully.
Apprehension snaked into Mason’s veins. He was cold, standing there wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, but he couldn’t move. “Did John escape or something?”
“Something.” Colt sighed, put his phone on the bedside table, and got out of bed. “It seems John wasn’t working alone, and the threat against you might be worse now.”
“Jesus.” Mason’s knees weakened, and a wave of dizziness washed through him. He staggered to the bed and sat down at an awkward angle. Was this ever going to end?
Suddenly, Colt was kneeling in front of him.
“You’re going to be okay,” Colt said with conviction resounding in his voice. “I will not let anything happen to you.”
Mason stared into his eyes for a long moment and saw his whole life in them. Colt was his everything. No matter how their lives had changed in the last two decades, he would do everything humanly possible to spend the rest of his life with Colt in it.
“I love you,” Mason whispered. “Did I tell you that? I never stopped.”
Colt stretched up and kissed him. “I never stopped either.”
Colt rose to his feet, giving Mason a full view of his beautiful cock and heavy balls only inches from his face. If there weren’t more pressing things that needed to be dealt with right then, like staying alive, he would have taken full advantage of this position. But before he could think any more on it, Colt pulled him to his feet.
“We better get dressed,” Colt said. “I’ll call Nick back and get my brothers up to speed.”
After they were clothed and ready to face the day, Mason busied himself by dishing up a couple of bowls of muesli for him and Colt while Colt made his calls.
Mason sat down beside Colt and slowly chewed his breakfast. It didn’t taste as good as it usually did, but that was more to do with his mind than his taste buds. When had his life become such a roller-coaster ride?
“Did John say who he was working with?” Mason finally asked when Colt didn’t seem inclined to share what Nick had told him.
He shook his head. “Apparently, he doesn’t know.”
Mason dropped his hand to the table. The mouthful of muesli on his spoon spilled onto the place mat. “How the hell doesn’t he know who he’s working with?”
He pushed his bowl away. He couldn’t eat anything more, not with his stomach all knotted up with worry and anger again.Jesus, this much stress was not good for a body.
