You Are My Reason - Willow Winters Page 0,18

heel slips on the paved steps at the thought, almost making me fall, but Mason catches me.

He’s quick to grab on to my elbow and waist, his hands hot on my body. It’s a shock as something inside of me reacts almost violently to his very touch.

Eight months alone … even longer since I’ve been touched. The idea of moving on has never been such a dominating thought, or so terrifying.

I wrap my arms around myself, fueled by both fear and desire. My pulse quickens as I look back over my shoulder and toward his car. Toward an escape.

Mason straightens his shoulders, squaring them and hitting the keys against his leg once. The jingle catches my attention. It’s the only sound in the cold dark night.

I stand frozen as I look into his eyes. I’m a fool for doing this. It’s not me. Not the woman I am today and not the woman I was before I lost my husband. Mason’s steel gray gaze searches my own and I feel lost all over again.

I part my lips, ready to give an excuse, a lie, or even the truth. Anything to just go back in time and avoid being in this situation.

To run, just like I’ve been doing for the past eight months. Didn’t I say I needed a change? I said I needed something drastic, but that was back when the alcohol was flowing and we were surrounded by a crowd of people.

Mason is so very tempting. He’s gorgeous and confident, but I can’t handle a man like him. I can’t deal with this.

Weak and alone. A low whisper from the self-loathing bitch inside of me resonates in my ears. I slam my lips shut without uttering a word, hating that she’s right.

I won’t leave. I suck in a breath and force myself to be determined. Whether what I’m doing is right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. I need a change.

A moment passes with the two of us standing still in front of his porch. Only a handful of steps are between us and his front door. I just have to get there.

My eyes drift from the deep navy door to Mason. I’m caught in place as he takes a single step closer to me. It’s only one step, but with it is something powerful. His height, his scent, and his very dominance overwhelm me when he’s this close. He radiates desire and my mind may be questioning things, but my body is pulled to him, magnetized by his presence.

It’s soothing. Surprisingly so as I let my body move forward, closing the small space between us. He trails a finger down my collarbone lightly, testing my reaction.

“I want to touch you, Jules,” he murmurs, forcing my gaze back to his all-consuming stare. I hadn’t imagined it’d be this intense. Not at the bar and not in his Mercedes. He didn’t push, and he didn’t do anything to make me feel trapped. How odd—now that we’re out in the open with no one watching and no enclosed spaces, it’s only now that I feel cornered. All because of the way he looks at me.

What’s most surprising is that I love it. I want this. The way he looks at me is addictive; it’s freeing in more ways than one.

I can’t wimp out. I won’t.

I nod my head once and his fingers trail up my throat. His light touch feels much rougher than he’s being with me. I tilt my head as his grip moves to my chin and he just barely brushes his lips against mine. It’s a soft kiss that leaves me wanting more. I keep my eyes closed and stay as still as can be when he hovers close and whispers, “I want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” I whimper, a pathetic plea, or maybe one of strength. My head feels so clouded that it’s hard to know what’s driving me. Raw, primal instinct or desperation. Perhaps a lethal cocktail of both.

He pulls away just slightly, but I don’t let him get far. I take a half step closer to him, my breasts brushing against his shirt and I crash my lips into his. I need him. I need this.

He’s quick to wrap his arms around me and pull my body against his. The faint noises of the night surround us and they seem to get louder as my breathing gets heavier. His lips travel down my throat and I throw my head back. I may have been tipsy