Page 72 of Sapphire Spring

Naser nodded as if it were little more than a politerequest, but the way he moistened his lips as he made a show of scrollingthrough Mason’s prom playlist suggested he was trying not to giggle. “I willconsider it, for sure.”

“Okay, well, maybe you shouldn’t leave my house until you’vemade up your mind.”

“Are you threatening to hold me prisoner?”

“Only if that’s your kink too.”

“Depends on the restraints.”

“Take your pick. My designer filled this house with stupidtrendyshitI can’t stand. I wouldn’t mind gettingyourcum all over most of it.”

Naser slapped him playfully on the chest, then returned hisattention to Mason’s playlist. “Bed of Rosesby Bon Jovi. This wasn’tour prom song.”

“It should have been!”

“Wow.ClearlyI’ve touched an openwound.”

“Well, I was friends with Katie Kramer, who was on the promcommittee, and she was totally down, but then she told me the facultycomplained because there was a line in it about a vodka bottle, so they had togo with that stupid Seal song.”

“Kiss from a Roseis a great song.”

“It’s noBed of Roses,okay?”

Naser rolled his eyes. “Whatever, white boy.”

“Anyway, later I found out Katie was lying. She thought thesong was too retro and the theme wasn’t nineties, but she didn’t want to say itto my face. Traitor.”

“And you were too much of a big manly man to actually serveon the prom committee yourself, where you could have had some sway.”

“True, but…”

Before Mason could gather his response, Naser had hit play,and suddenly his favorite Bon Jovi song was coming through the speakers setinside the bedroom’s walls.

“We going to have our own prom?” Mason asked.

“Sure.” Naser grinned.

“We gonna slow dance?”

“Maybe. But first…”

The next thing he knew, Naser’s head had disappeared underthe covers, and Mason’s briefs had been tugged down over his crotch in asingle, hungry jerk. Bliss coated his body as Naser went to work with more languidpatience than he’d had the night before, slowly drawing the blanket down as hesuckled and stroked. The song surged around them, the kind of melodic, soaringhair band ballad thatopened upbig, weepy parts ofMason’s soul he’d too often kept locked. When he went to grip Naser’s headencouragingly, the man pressed Mason’s hands to the side of the bed—he plannedto work Mason to the edge on his own time, at his own pace.

And Mason, having forgotten about slow dancing altogether,couldn’t complain.

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“Who’s MasonWorther?”Pari asked.

No questions about the deal she’d just read over.

Hadshe read it over?

Naser had emailed her a scan a few minutes before calling,making it clear nothing was definite until she signed and that she shouldn’tfeel obligated if she didn’t like the terms. Apparently, his sister had goneright to the signature page as he’d recited the agreement’s broad strokes.

He was struggling to answer her question as surgically aspossible when a burst of laughter came from the other side of his closed andlocked office door. After giving them a tour of the grounds, Jonas hadthoroughly charmed the representatives of a writer’s association that wanted tohave their annual conference at Sapphire Cove next year. Naser had hoped for asimilar level of excitement from his sister. So far, she sounded tight-lippedand wary.

“Someone I went to high school with. He’s done well for himself.”

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