Chapter 37

Anton slid his arm around Mason’s waist, much like he had when they were dancing. There was no music now, no driving beat to circle them around a dance floor, but the room still managed to throb against his flesh. It could have been anything—the passion of Anton’s kiss, the ache of his own need, the rush of blood inside his veins. He didn’t need to define it. All that mattered was where he was, who he was with. And that Anton wanted him to stay.

His lungs burned when they parted. When Anton rested his forehead to Mason’s, it was slick with sweat, in spite of the cooler temperatures in the apartment.

“I want to show you what I was going to send you,” Anton said. He took a step back, reaching for Mason’s hand. “And lucky for me, it’s in the bedroom.”

“I think that’s lucky for both of us.”