His eyes went back to my chest. “I’d like to start there,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
My breasts began to tingle and ache at the nipples, like they knew they were getting attention from this beautiful man and liked it. They were as shameless as I was. I nodded, and his eyelids lowered as he kept his heated gaze locked on my now heaving chest. I was having a hard time breathing, because I was that excited to feel Mase’s hands on me.
He took a step toward me, and his hooded gaze met mine again. I think I stopped breathing in that moment when his hand lifted, and I felt the warmth from his skin as he cupped his palm around my needy breast.
I inhaled sharply, and he studied me carefully. He didn’t move until I began breathing again normally. Or as normally as can be expected when your breast is being fondled by the man you’re in love with. His thumb grazed over my nipple, and I grabbed his biceps to steady myself. His eyes were locked on my chest now. With the pad of his thumb, he circled and teased my nipple, causing me to make some sounds I had never made before.
When his other hand moved toward me, I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath for fear of passing out. Just as he’d done with the other breast, he gently cupped it, then began paying close attention to the nipple. I suddenly hated the tank top I loved to sleep in. It was in the way. But the idea of Mase taking the tank top off me and actually looking at my bare breasts was as terrifying as it was exciting.
“Is this OK?” he whispered almost reverently.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I want to kiss you again while I touch you,” he said, studying my lips. “Can we lie down on your bed?”
My bed. That was more. A lot more.
But I had Mase in my bed every night. Even if it was just on the phone.
“Yes,” I told him, before I could freak out and change my mind.
His left hand slid down my stomach and hip, and then he took my hand in his. He didn’t say anything else as he led me over to the bedroom door. The lamp beside the bed was the only light in the room.
His hand left mine, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. I watched, fascinated, as he tugged off his boots and placed them on the floor, his gaze never leaving me.
“Come here,” he said, with a crook of his long finger.
At this point, the man could tell me to go jump off a bridge, and I was pretty sure I’d ask him which one.
He took both my hands and pulled me into his lap.
I had to straddle him with my knees on the bed. He tilted his mouth to fit across mine, and then all thought of nerves vanished as he kissed me again. The wonders he could accomplish with the slip of his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck and sank into him . . . until the hardness I remembered from my past was pressing against me. Then I froze.
Without warning, the memories came back, taunting me. I shuddered and jumped off him and backed away, afraid that he’d see the horror in my eyes. That he’d know exactly how dirty I was. I didn’t want to make him dirty. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t do this. Mase was so good and nice and kind. He didn’t know me. He thought he did. But he had no idea.
“Come back to me, Reese. Don’t you go there,” he said, his hands taking both of mine and holding me. “Look at me, baby.”
Mase
The broken, terrified expression on her face made me physically ill. I never wanted to be the reason that darkness came over her. “Please, Reese, look at me. In my eyes. Focus on me. Nothing else,” I encouraged her, as I held her hands firmly in mine while letting her maintain some space between us. My initial reaction had been to pull her tightly into my arms and hold her. But those eyes had stopped me.
She blinked her eyes several times, and her gaze cleared up as she did what I asked. She was back with me. The demons tormenting her were once again pushed away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
“No. Never be sorry. Nothing is your fault. With me, you never have to apologize,” I said.
Her shoulders sank in defeat, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. I wasn’t letting her do that. Not now. Not after she’d given me so much, entrusted me with so much.
“Can I just hold you? Nothing more. Just let me hold you.” It was supposed to be a question, but it had turned into pleading.
She nodded and stepped toward me. I gathered her into my arms and wrapped them around her. Slowly, her arms slid around my waist, and she held on to me just as fiercely.
We didn’t speak or move. We just stood there like that, holding each other for several minutes. I reassured myself that she was here and she was going to be OK. I would be there right beside her through all of this. Whatever it was.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then pressed my cheek against the silky locks. The cinnamon sweet cream smell that I loved engulfed me, and I closed my eyes, wishing I could wipe away every bad thing that had happened to her.
“I hate him. I don’t know who he is, but I loathe him with every fiber of my being,” I whispered against her hair.
She tensed in my arms for a moment, and then her body relaxed as her arms tightened around me as if she was seeking safety and comfort from me. I could give her that. Even if she wasn’t ready for me to give her other things, I could give her peace.