Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 41889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
I kept silent this time. I just waited. The door creaked open beside me and I smiled grimly. She peeked her head out. That’s when I pounced.
Back into the bathroom we went.
I grabbed her face, holding her tightly. She stared up at me, red nose and swollen eyes. Her lips parted.
She was so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her.
“Stop. Thanking. Me.”
And then I kissed her. She gasped against my lips. I plunged my tongue into her mouth roughly, with no sweet words. Without permission.
“Everything. I. Do.” I kissed her between each word, pressing my lips into every inch of bare skin I could find. Her neck, her ears, her collarbone. “Is. Because. I. Want. To.”
I felt her hands come up and touch me. She wasn’t pushing me away though. She was gripping my jacket and pulling me closer. Touching me. Our tongues tangled, seeking and stroking each other wildly. I heard a soft whimper and froze.
What the hell was I doing?
She was staring up at me, hopeful. Ready to please me. Ready to repay me.
I cursed and pushed her away.
“Sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that.”
She just stared at me. I opened the bathroom door. I couldn’t even look at her. If I did, I might do something unthinkable.
I would take advantage of her. Up against the counter. With her little girl less than ten feet away.
I was a fucking animal and I shouldn’t have touched her.
“I’m going out. There’s… stew in the fridge. Just heat it up.”
I didn’t say what we were both thinking.
I didn’t say it, but she knew.
That she should be in bed with the door locked before I got back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Michelle
Again.
He’d kissed me again.
That couldn’t be a fluke. He must like me, at least a little. I couldn’t figure out why he kept pushing me away though.
Maybe he didn’t know why he liked me. Or he didn’t want to feel the way he did. Or he liked someone else, too.
Oof, that hurt. Jealousy cut into me like a knife.
I didn’t want to think about that. Besides, there were zero signs of a female presence in his life, other than Cassandra and Kelly, who were like family to him.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled Paton into my side.
Maybe it was my ratty clothes. Maybe that’s why he’d done what he did. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen with me the way I looked now.
Hot tears of humiliation threatened to spill over. I took a deep breath and slowly pulled my arm out from under Pate. If I was going to cry, I was doing it in the bathroom.
Alone.
I carefully shut the bedroom door behind me and tiptoed down the hallway. I was reaching for the bathroom door when I heard it.
Muttering.
“Mason?”
I stared into the kitchen. Mason was sitting by a half empty bottle of bourbon with his head slumped into his hands. He looked up sharply and I took a step back from the hungry look in his eyes.
“Michelle…”
The way he said my name sounded like a prayer. I stepped forward, wringing my hands together nervously.
“Are you alright?”
He took a good look at me and moaned.
“What are you wearing? Are you trying to kill me, Michelle?”
I looked down at myself in confusion. It was a plain white cotton nightie with a tiny pink bow at the neck. Not remotely sexy. It was one of the few things I still had from growing up.
“It’s just an old nightgown.”
He shook his head.
“No. It’s… just don’t come any closer.”
“Maybe you should have some water and go to bed.”
I went to get him a glass but he stopped me, his tone harsh and his breathing ragged.
“Stay back. I’m no good for you.”
“That’s not true… you are a good person, Mason.”
He smiled bitterly.
“Oh, but I’m not. If you knew what I wanted to do…”
He shook his head and took a swig of the dark honey colored liquor from a tumbler. He didn’t look at me again.
“Go back to bed, Michelle.”
I exhaled sharply, my earlier tears forgotten. He did want me. There wasn’t something wrong with me after all. For some reason this incredible man thought he wasn’t good enough. For me, of all people.
I don’t know when I got angel’s wings, but I was well aware I wasn’t perfect. Pregnant at sixteen from the first boy who paid me a lick of attention. Protective and painfully shy ever since. Uneducated, though not a dummy. Barely getting by.
I thought I was almost a good mother, always finding creative ways to have fun and make memories. I was a decent cook and good with a needle and thread. But the circumstances we’d been in were awful for the past few months, and I doubted I would ever forgive myself for letting things get so bad.
The one thing I knew I had done right was Paton. I was raising an extraordinary young woman. My daughter was bright and kind and considerate. She looked below Mason’s gruff exterior and saw his heart of gold.