Hesitantly, he reaches up and wipes his knuckles along my cheek. “I’ve been dying too.”

“How?” I ask, watching him shift closer.

“The only time I left this room was to go to the liquor store,” he tells me in a somber voice, brushing my hair out of my face. “I’ve been drunk up through yesterday, Brooke. Black-out drunk. I don’t remember most of it. I canceled all of my classes and smashed my phone against the wall.”

“Why? So I wouldn’t call you?”

He shakes his head. “So I wouldn’t call you. God, I would’ve been bloody ecstatic if you would’ve called me. I came close. I nearly texted you a few times and I knew I shouldn’t. You hated me, but I missed you so fucking much.” He holds my face, tears brimming his eyes now. “So fucking much, Brooke. Every second you were away from me I longed for you. That distance killed me.”

I sniffle, thinking back to that night, to all the things that were said and the question that broke us.

“I fucked up,” Mason whispers, blinking and sending his own tears down his face, moving so close to me I can feel his breath on my skin. “I saw that disc, what was on it, and I . . . I lost it. Baby, I lost it. I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t hear what I was saying or how it sounded. I have never felt any of the things I feel for you for anyone else. I’ve never felt possessive before, but that night I wanted to find that guy and kill him for touching you. I would’ve killed him, Brooke.”

“Mason.” I clutch at his shirt, crying harder.

“You’re mine, and I saw you with someone else and that fucked with my head. I know I have no right to be that way. I know you were with him before you even met me, but fuck, Brooke, I feel like you’ve been mine for longer than we’ve known each other. You brought me here.” His hold on me tightens. “You brought me here.”

The devastation, the agony and regret in his voice, it’s ripping me apart. I can’t help but feel some blame for this.

And I missed him too.

I slide my hands to his face, ignoring the burn in my palms. “I’m sorry about that disc.”

“No.” He wipes away more of my tears. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Brooke. More sorry than I will ever be able to express to you. This is on me. I hate what I’ve done. I hate that I made you feel any less than how I think of you. I hate that you thought this was over. It could never be over for me. God, even when you said this never mattered and I meant nothing, I still loved you. That will never change. I will never let go of you.”

I drop my head, letting more tears fall. “I only said those things because I thought that was what you believed. I didn’t mean them.”

“I didn’t mean what I said either, sweetheart.”

Mason guides my chin up, sliding his body between my legs, cupping my face and making sure I look at him.

“I will never let go of you, Brooke. I told you the day we met that I wouldn’t be able to. I warned you then. You remember?”

“Yes,” I quietly reply, tears dripping off my jaw. “You made me so nervous. I think my heart knew who you were that day and it scared me.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, sliding his mouth over mine and pressing, melting us together.

He guides my head with his hand, tilting me to deepen the kiss, licking along my lip and moaning when I open for him.

We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, but it’s so much more than that. I can feel his apology on his mouth. I can taste it on his tongue. His sadness and his guilt, I swallow it and give him my own.

It’s the best and worst kiss of my life, because I know what we went through to have it.

I fist Mason’s shirt and pull him closer. “I like that tent,” I tell him, sucking on his lip. “Maybe enough to give up the bed.”

He smiles. “It’s so lonely in there without you.”

“Take me in there now.”

“Yeah?” He leans away. “Can your injury handle my lovin’?”

Laughing, I kiss his jaw. “You can be sweet, yeah?”

Smiling that gorgeous smile that nearly stops my heart at the same time as filling it, he stands and helps me to my feet.

“I can be sweet for you.”

Mason assists me to the tent. I can put most of my weight on my knee, but not all of it. I have a small limp. Nothing that would prevent me from doing my job.

Thank Christ.

With some assistance, I push the flap aside on the tent and hobble inside. Falling onto my hip, I grab the stuffed koala off the sleeping bag and hug him to my chest.

Oh, my God. Has he been sleeping with this? My heart might burst.

Mason ducks his head and steps inside the tent. He taps the koala on the head. “He’s not so bad. Seems docile compared to his mates.”

I’m smiling, laughing through my pinched lips, until Mason reaches behind him and strips off his shirt.

His shoes and socks follow.

I loosen my hold on the koala and it rolls out of my lap and onto the tent floor. I gaze down at the impressive bulge in Mason’s shorts.

My mouth waters. I am literally salivating at the thought of his cock in or anywhere near my body.

Preferably in. At least touching. I mean, I’ll look at that masterpiece all goddamn day, but here, right now, I need to feel it.

Mason crouches beside me and kisses just below my ear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You with me, sweet girl?”

I close my eyes, nodding, fighting the biggest smile of my life.

“Yes.”

I raise my arms and he strips my shirt over my head. My bra follows.

“Lie back,” he instructs, popping the button on my jeans as I stretch out beneath him.

He’s careful not to brush against my knee as he pulls down my pants. My jeans are discarded. I lift my hips, tugging at the string of my thong, biting my lip when Mason slides them down my legs and tosses them over his head.

He crawls over me. I tuck my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts and tug them down to mid thigh, my toes helping. My breath bursts against his neck. I lick and bite it, running my tongue up to his jaw.

His cock slides against my slit. I feel his hand between my legs, positioning himself.

My legs tremble.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek as he slides in the first inch. “You feel how hard I am?”

I gasp, nodding and clawing at his back. He fills me slowly, stretching me perfectly. I squeeze his neck and lift my legs higher.

The pain in my knee is forgotten. Goose bumps break out across my flesh.

Mason thrusts into me, his pace measured and adoring. He whispers his sorry over and over against my lips, his voice growing incredibly quiet. When I stop hearing it, I close my eyes and feel his mouth moving the words his soul is screaming at me.

No apology has ever been felt like this.

He tells me he’s mine, his body, his heart. I worship him with my hands, roaming over the beautiful planes of his back, squeezing and rubbing his muscles, his trim hips and his ass. I press my lips everywhere, his face, his neck, his shoulders. I tell him that I’m his and I always have been. When he hears my declaration, he moans and fucks me harder. My pussy clenches around him and soaks his cock. Wetness leaks to my ass.

Mason drops his head and circles my nipple with his tongue. He sucks on the other, lifting and squeezing my breast, using his teeth when I beg him for it.