Page 22 of The Masks We Burn

“Girl, do you ever stop and listen to yourself? You slurped that shit up!”

“Girl?” Her face blooms a soft pink as what I assume is anger comes to the forefront. She starts to go off, but honestly, I can’t make out what she says in her fit. I’m too busy staring ather.

I can’t lie. Seeing her all riled up, her chest heaving up and down, her hair mussed, and the white-knuckled clutch she has on the couch, has me thinking much different thoughts than I should. It forces me to wonder if she’d be this wild with my dick buried inside her, or if she’d stop talking if I choked her with it. I can almost guarantee she’d stilltryto talk shit but would desperately fail.

The visuals have my cock stiffening unbelievably hard against my zipper, and I have to casually readjust to get anywhere near comfortable.

I run my tongue along the bottom of my lip before digging my teeth in, a failed attempt to feel pain rather than arousal, but then my fucking brain imagines it’s her causing the slight sting.

Fuck. Reel it in.

Inwardly, I scold myself before I realize Amora has stopped talking. Her eyes are on my mouth, and when she swallows, I nearly lose my shit. Quickly, I refocus.

“I’m not always trying to insult you,” I say in response to calling hergirl. “But what I do need your hardheaded ass to realize is both in our fake engagement and planning for a real wedding, we got to be some kind of team. It’d be niceandgo much smoother if we were on the same page, ya’ know?”

She rolls her eyes, whatever thought she had while staring at my lips obviously long gone. “Honestly, I’ll settle for being in the same book. I’m not sure you and I will ever be on the same page.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugs, turning back toward the TV and pressing play on the next episode. “Because you read too slow, and I always plan to stay ahead.”

CHAPTER TEN

The smell of fresh coffee is what wakes me up the next morning. And rather than being on the couch, I’m cuddled under the weight of my white down comforter—memories of last night flit through my head, making my face flush with warmth.

Between the heated anime conversations, eating two bowls of cereal as I explain to him why Colonel Mustang is my current obsession, and the way he licked thosefuckinglips, I don’t even know what to think. What even was that?

Fun.

No. Absolutely not that adjective.

Unexpected, yes, but not… fun. I sent the come-over text for a reason, and that was all there is to it, no enjoyment involved. Remy was out with Blaze, and I knew the storm was coming through and I’d be alone. I was so freaked out checking the damn doors and windows, I hadn’t eaten all day, or done anything but pace the living room watching reruns.

It was a lucky thing he brought food, which was really fucking good, but it was also kind of nice he didn’t point out the obvious and stayed till I fell asleep. Even when he forced me to get up and stagger to my bedroom, he did it despite my condescending remarks. I guess I should give him brownie points for that.

After a long stretch, I get myself out of bed and brush my teeth before going to meet Remy in the kitchen. Only when I open my door, it isn’t her behind the counter, pouring a cup of fresh coffee.

“What are you still doing here?” I bite into my lip, irritated with the sharpness in my tone.

William turns, raising my favorite blue mug in the air. “Well, good morning to you too, future wife. I made you coffee.”

I scoff, yanking my lopsided bun down and combing through it with my fingers. “Thanks. But really.”

My eyes trail down his mountain of a body, and I realize he has on different clothes. A pair of black joggers and a matching black Henley. Like yesterday, the fabric stretches across his chest and around his defined arms, leaving nothing to the imagination. If I hadn’t seen him so much in the past week, I’d assume he lives at the damn gym.

“I ran home this morning to, ya’ know, shower and brush my teeth. But then Blaze texted and said the roads were bad and there may be another storm this morning and they decided to stay at the bed-and-breakfast, so I came back just to make sure you were good.”

Narrowing my eyes, I put my hand on my hip. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you checking on me. You could have texted me if you were that concerned.”

He shrugs and turns back to the coffeepot, pouring a second cup. When he rotates and sets it on the counter, I throw my hands up. “Whatever. I need to make you breakfast anyway.”

“Need?” he questions, scooting back as I slip in the kitchen beside him.

“Yeah. You made me dinner and I don’t need to be owing you any unnecessary favors.” I pull out a few mixing bowls and the ingredients to make my egg muffins. “Also, there’s creamer in the fridge and sugar on the top shelf of the pantry, you barbarian.”

“Thank God. I was strugglin’.” William laughs and the sound travels down my core. It’s so goddamn sexy, it pisses me off.

You need anger management.

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