You Are My Reason - Willow Winters Page 0,37

at the last statement and that’s when the barista decides to set down Mason’s coffee.

“It’s because of your husband?” he finally asks me and I don’t waste a second to answer yes. The word is barely a breath. It’s more than just publicity and articles that paint me however they want. It all cuts deeper than that.

“I want to take you home,” he says then licks his lips, and instinctively my eyes are drawn toward them. He lets his eyes roam down my body. “We can talk about this in bed.”

My lips part and I struggle not to look back at the barista who’s no doubt watching us.

“Do you want that, Jules?”

I do. I want him to touch me and hold me and make me feel alive.

Why is this so hard? It’s emotions, that’s why. Luring me in and then snapping me out of it.

“Jules?” he asks, pushing me and I cave to what I really want, because if I deny him, I may lose this chance at an escape forever.

“Yes.” I whisper my response and I hope the tone reflects my gratitude.

I think it does because he places his hand on the small of my back, as if he knows I need support in this, leading me away from the counter and toward my jacket and coffee that I’ve left on the table.

As I pick up the white jean jacket, focused on calming down and ignoring my overactive brain, Mason leans forward and whispers in the crook of my neck, “I don’t know what I want, other than I want you in my bed every night.” Every night. There’s a pang of both fear and desire from his confession. A small wave of relief and arousal flood through my veins. He lifts the jacket over my shoulders, helping me slip it in place and then looks me in the eyes.

“Is that something you want?”

That’s what I want, but this seems like more. I choke on the answer, the words colliding together in a jumble and refusing to come out.

It’s because I don’t know how to separate the two. A relationship versus someone to sleep with at night.

It’s going to be a problem for me, I already know it is, but telling Mason that in this moment is something I can’t do. If I do, I’ve lost him.

Silence sits between us for a moment, growing more tense by the second and as though it slows the the clock in the room, time stalling and my mind whirling with how this is all going to end.

He’s going to crush me. He’ll leave me shattered when he’s done.

He’s not the first though and there’s not much of me that can break any more than I already have.

I put a small smile on my face and nod, feeling as though I’m making a death wish. “Yes,” I answer, holding his gray eyes, “I want that too.”

He doesn’t know the truth and I’m too much of a coward to tell him.

I’ve sealed my own fate in this moment. I know I have.

If only I hadn’t said it. If only I could walk away.

Mason

What’s right and what’s wrong are overrated.

The lines are blurred; consequences negated.

I’m left with no truth, only lies that I’ve built.

I’m left all alone, consumed by the guilt.

She’s fidgety, quiet too. My parking spot is the last one on this level in the garage; it’s the largest and away from everyone else’s. We walk in unison, my hand still on the small of her back. I’m not letting go until I have her in my car. She’s running, we both know it, and I won’t fucking allow it.

She needs to know that she belongs to me. She wants to hide this and that’s fine with me. But only to the extent that she knows not to be ashamed for going after what she wants. Discretion is one thing but I won’t be denied.

I’ll give her everything she desires; I want to. I want to see her smile, to hear that laugh that drew me to her. I’ll do everything I can to make it up to her.

And she’ll give me all of her in return. There’s no exception to this compromise.

The passenger side door clicks loudly in the empty garage as I open it but then I stop, shutting it before she has a chance to slip in.

My dick is hard; my blood is hot. Glancing at a confused Jules, her doe eyes stare back at me. The same eyes I’ve been