Page 62 of Trapped for Christmas

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Like I’ve just had my insides rearranged.”

“High praise indeed,” said Mason with a chuckle.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’m not complaining. I want to hear all your thoughts.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. Some things are private.”

Mason understood. As long as Zeb shared the important things and didn’t deal with everything on his own, like he had before, he’d be happy. Everyone was entitled to their private thoughts, unless they were dirty, and then Mason would insist on knowing.

“What do you want to do?” asked Mason.

“I don’t want to move from this bed ever again.”

“We can have a nap, but I probably need to change the sheets. Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll do that. After lunch, we can be lazy until I make a start on dinner.”

“Aren’t there some leftovers we can eat? You need a night off from cooking.”

“I love cooking for you.”

“I know, it’s your love language.”

It was true. Ever since he was a child and had first started cooking, his goal had always been to make people happy with his food. He wasn’t big on expressing his emotions to people, although Zeb was an exception.

“But the gut rearranging is enough love for today.”

Mason laughed as he kissed Zeb and pulled him into his arms. He was lying on his back, and Zeb was cradled against his chest. Zeb’s hands stroked his chest hair, although his pecs kept getting squeezed.

“I’m grateful I still do weights,” said Mason.

Zeb pulled his hand away, but Mason put it back.

“Maybe we could . . .”

“What? I might need longer before I’m ready to go again.”

“Yeah, my ass needs a while as well.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, tilting Zeb’s head up so he could look him in the eyes.

“No, it was perfect. It’s just throbbing now.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he teased.

Zeb snorted. “I’m sure I will, but I was going to ask if you wanted to shower together and then I’ll help you change the sheets.”

“Deal, let’s go,” he said, getting up.

He tried to drag Zeb up, but he felt like dead weight, so Mason picked him up and carried him bridal style into the bathroom. He looked so content, and it was peaceful, with no noise of everyday life demanding Mason’s attention. It was something he could get used to.

CHAPTER 21

ZEB

It was Friday, but the second dumping of snow had hit earlier than expected. They wouldn’t be heading back to New York today, and Zeb couldn’t be happier. Mason had said nothing, but Zeb suspected he was anxious about not being at the restaurant. It was the last weekend before Christmas and Epicure was fully sold out with lots of private parties. There would also be important guests who’d expect to see Mason and to know that he had cooked for them.