Page 231 of Rogue Riders Duet

I almost stumble into him, but he keeps holding on, and then we’re standing toe-to-toe, black boots to my bare feet, and his eyes lock on mine like he’s searching for something.

Consent, maybe?

I nod, even though I don’t know what he’s asking for.

But it doesn’t matter, because a second later, he pulls me into his chest, arms tightening around my body in a way that makes everything inside me cave.

I hug him back instantly, so fiercely my fingers hurt, and like I’ve been drowning and finally found something solid. My arms go around his waist, my cheek presses into his shoulder, and I feel his heart beating rapidly. He squeezes me even tighter as one of his hands lifts to stroke over the back of my head, fingers brushing through my hair, and making me let out a breath of relief.

He doesn’t hate me.

“Okay,” he murmurs, still holding me tightly. “What is your next step?”

“Telling this to everyone else. They know a lot but not everything.”

“I’ll be there.” Mason presses a soft kiss to my temple, so light it makes me shudder and melt.

I was so scared of losing him.

So fucking scared.

“We’ll survive this, Bambi,” Mason murmurs, his lips still against my skin.

I agree wholeheartedly.

I don’t know how yet, but I’ll survive this.

ELEVEN

Mason Payne is a horrible distraction.

He’s got that whole brooding thing going on, arms crossed, jaw tense, eyes fixed on the space where Dane and Alaina just finished their “so here’s why we lied to everyone” speech.

My brain should be catching up, cataloging all the shit they just dropped on us—revenge arcs, fake identities, sabotaged careers—but instead, I’m locked on the sharp line of Mason’s jaw and the way his hand flexes like he’s fighting the urge to punch something or someone.

Not to mention his scent.

I’m standing so close to him that every breath tastes like him.

Pine.

Not some artificial air-freshener scent, either. Real pine, like a forest after rain, or earth, sweat, stubbornness, and something unfairly comforting.

And yeah, maybe I’m staring too. Sue me.

His deep brown gaze slides to me, and my stupid heart skips a beat like I’ve been caught with one hand in the cookie jar and the other down my pants.

I glance away so fast my neck almost snaps, my eyes going back to Alaina, who’s lounging next to Dane and smirking at me.

Did she just catch me checking out Mason?

Fuck.

It’s both infuriating and wildly arousing, and I don’t know whether I want to shake her or kiss her senseless.

My brain flashes back to last night, to the way my gut twisted when Mason didn’t come out of her room after saying that he “needed to talk to her first.” He was in there long enough for my paranoia to grow claws and start scratching at the inside of my skull.

So, I checked on them. I opened the door, expecting, hell, I don’t even know what, but I found them lying on her bed, side by side like two halves of the saddest yin-yang I’ve ever seen, each with a hand under their cheek like they’d been whispering secrets and fell asleep mid-confession.