Page 34

“The sofa turns into a bed, so I’ll sleep there. You can stay in here.”

“What? No, I can’t take your bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

He wanted to cry. This is why he hadn’t wanted to do this. The others had mentioned nothing about a sofa bed. Mason had probably arranged for it to be delivered once he knew he’d be staying with Zeb. It was obvious Mason didn’t want to be near him in that way, and risk anything happening in the night. Why would he? Zeb was damaged goods, and Mason was an award-winning chef who could have any man he wanted. He must have been imagining the flirting, and now he had to stay here for two days in close proximity, knowing the man didn’t want to touch him. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He wanted to run back to New York immediately, but he was trapped here for the next forty-eight hours.

“Zeb,” said Mason, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. “You take the bed. I insist.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, snatching up his case and walking back into the living area.

“Zeb, what’s wrong?” he asked, gripping his shoulder.

Zeb got a whiff of his aftershave. He’d made a comment recently that he liked the smell, and Mason had worn it more often, so of course Zeb had thought that meant something. It was obvious his heart was messing with his head and assuming things that weren’t true.

Zeb wanted to run away and burst into tears. He looked out the window and saw the snow still coming down heavily. There was no way he could leave, not that Mason would let him. It was obvious Zeb had misinterpreted what he thought were lingering looks and flirty comments, but that wouldn’t stop him being uber-protective. Perhaps he saw Zeb as more of a baby brother, or even a son. God, he hoped not, but why else would he fuss over him so much, when it was clear he didn’t want Zeb physically? Why had he listened to his friends and gotten his hopes up?

“Zeb, talk to me. Have I upset you?”

“I’m not taking your bed, Mason. You’ve done so much for me already, but I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa.”

“It’s a sofa bed.”

“Great, then I’ll sleep on it.”

“No,” he said firmly.

That tone he used made blood rush to Zeb’s dick.

“I’ve slept on the streets, remember, so I can handle a sofa bed.”

Mason’s eyes darkened. “Zeb, listen to me. You’re sleeping in the bed.”

He swallowed and saw Mason’s eyes dart to his throat before they focused on Zeb again. The intensity in his eyes almost made his knees buckle. Mason was a man who was used to having his own way, and Zeb would usually relent to any man’s demands, but despite everything, he knew Mason was someone he could always be honest with.

“The bed’s big enough; we can share it. That’s the only way I’ll sleep in there.”

Mason continued to stare at him, not a flicker of reaction on his face. All he did was nod, take Zeb’s case off him and walk back into the bedroom. He let out a breath and looked back out the window. Zeb wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it felt significant. He was going to share a bed with Mason Reid, something he’d fantasized about for two years, so why did he feel like this could end up being an absolute nightmare?

CHAPTER 12

MASON

Mason had needed to get away from Zeb before he looked down and saw how hard he was. Zeb had let guys walk all over him for years, and here he was standing his ground. Why did that turn Mason on so much?

Now he’d agreed to share a bed with Zeb. Thankfully, it was a super king, so it wouldn’t be too cozy, but Mason didn’t know what he might do when he was unconscious and a warm body was lying next to him, especially one that was smaller than his.

Zeb wasn’t short, he was five feet eight, and Mason was six feet two. He had some muscle on him, although he wasn’t as stacked as Ryder or Sebastian, or Max for that matter, and probably Deacon as well. Perhaps Ethan was hiding a ripped physique under the suits he permanently wore. Maybe Mason was the runt of his friend group. The thought made him chuckle.

It didn’t matter. Zeb clearly liked his body, as he’d seen him watching whenever Mason was shirtless at home. The first time had been accidental. He hadn’t known Zeb was in the kitchen and was just getting used to having someone else in the house. After that, he may have deliberately walked around without a shirt on a few times. Zeb hadn’t returned the favor, but then he still had cuts and bruises on his body, so Mason wasn’t surprised. They should all have been healed by now. The ones visible were, although the cut on his arm from the chisel would leave a small scar.

For someone who felt confident most of the time, Mason was at a loss for what he was supposed to do about Zeb. Maybe he could give Sebastian a call and get his advice on the situation he was in now. How was he supposed to sleep with Zeb lying next to him and not instinctively pull him into his arms?

Sebastian would know what to do, but it was mid-afternoon so would already be evening in London. Sebastian would either be at a business dinner or at home, probably with Charlie under him. Neither of which he’d want to be disturbed at. Ryder would say something about lube, and Deacon was a blabbermouth with Hunter, who was Zeb’s best friend. That left his only other coupled-up friend, who was Max, so he fired a text off to him, asking if they could talk at some point today. It needed to be done before they went to bed. His phone immediately vibrated in his hand with Max calling him, so he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door for some privacy.

“What’s up?” asked Max.

“I’m not interrupting your work, am I?”

“I’m between meetings. What’s up? I thought you were at the cabin.”