Why does he feel a million miles away from me right now?
“I’ll see you soon,” he says, hanging up.
My mood hits rock bottom, and I regret calling him. I drop my head to the taxi window and let the first tear fall.
Crying. Again.
I feel fed up.
I feel hurt.
And I feel like a fool. I can’t mask the turmoil that’s plaguing me, not when my only escapes are gone.
My studio and my Mase.
* * *
Mase
I madeit back before Nina, and with my head thoroughly fried after a day trying to find the perfect studio, I decide to order in Chinese for dinner, knowing it’s her favourite.
I’ve been in the gym every morning and evening this week, trying to work off the guilt that seems to be hanging over my head. Despite my constant workouts, my body is still wound tight, and I have no idea how to shift it.
And as for her, I struggle to even look at her, knowing what I’ve taken away.
“Mase?” she calls, making her way through the penthouse.
“In here,” I call back.
“Hey!” She smiles as she steps into the kitchen, and my heart sinks when I see her red-rimmed eyes.
I go to her, taking her in my arms and holding her close. “I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“I’m okay.” She sniffles as more tears fall to my shirt.
I take her chin and lift her face so I can see her. I haven’t given her this connection in days. Our eyes blaze, and I can’t look away, something passing between us that’s deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
A carnal need to take what we both crave.
I shake my head as my mouth comes down on hers, and the world seems to tilt just an inch back into place.
* * *
Nina
I’m hungry for him.Starved. If you told me ten minutes ago this is how my evening would go, I would have laughed in your face. But this is us, and it’s what we know. It’s what we are good at.
Mase pulls at his tie, loosening it enough to pull it over his head. His shirt follows moments later. And this isn’t a romantic undressing of one another, we shed our clothes ourselves as we rush to have the connection.
I only manage to get my jeans off of one leg when he lifts me, pushing me back hard into the fridge. My legs wrap around his body as he pulls my trousers down over my foot.
His strong, powerful body ripples under me and I squeeze my legs around him, urging him to come closer.
The lace of my underwear tears as he rips my thong from my hips, and in the next second, he fills me. He drops his head on a deep groan, resting it against my breast bone. He takes a second—unmoving—his breath fanning my heated skin.
“Mase.”
When his head comes up and his gaze meets mine, I see the darkness lurking there.
