Page 69 of The Masks We Burn

When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m drunk and delirious with need, but as he looks at me with hooded eyes, my breath stops.

Everything stops.

His gaze isn’t that of a hungry man, but one that looks as if he’s seeing the world for the first time. It’s a look of longing and awe, captivation and desire.

It’s the look of a man in love.

“Will,” I breathe, cupping the side of his face, my heart swelling in my chest. I want to soak this in so badly. Forget about every fucking thing holding me back from letting him in and allowing him to stay. But I can’t… never could, and I was a fool to let it go this far.

He shakes his head, a sheen in his eyes disappearing before he drives into me again. This time it’s harder, and I cry out, my arms grasping for his biceps.

A roll of thunder passes overhead, but I don’t feel anything besides the intensity from his thrusts. Again, he slams into me, sending my body backward. A strong hand grabs onto my hips, pulling me back against him, while the other trails up my stomach, grazing over a sensitive nipple and around my throat.

He squeezes just enough to make breathing difficult as he moves in and out, each time harder than the one before.

“Fuck, William!” My cries of pleasure rise with the storm as my orgasm builds low in my belly. This only spurs him on and soon the fingers digging into my hip disappear before landing on my throbbing clit.

He circles the bundle of nerves once, twice, three times, and I explode, shattering into a thousand pieces while he keeps his momentum steady until finally, he falls after me.

Spent, William collapses on top of me, both of us panting as we soak in the orgasmic bliss. Moments pass before we finally catch our breath, and I can hear the sounds outside again.

The storm has slowed, nothing but a small pitter patter echoing in the tent. I feel his heartbeat begin to slow in tandem with mine as I run my hand along his back in long, languid strokes.

It isn’t till much later when he slides out of me that I finally speak. I want to comment on how the air feels different, thick and tense with something I’m scared to acknowledge. But I don’t. “That’s one way to start getting over my fear of storms.”

He huffs, a small grin on his face as he stares at the roof of the tent. “Yeah. I hope it gives you peace in the future.”

When he’s not there.I finish his statement in my head because he won’t be here with me the next time it rains.

No. I’m pretty sure tonight is the last night he’ll ever be here with me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I’m in love with a woman I can never be with.

A woman who is difficult, hardheaded, stubborn, and sarcastic. A woman who has armor made of steel and won’t let anyone even remotely close enough to see who she is underneath.

I’m in love and I’ve never felt more torn up in my life.

The collaboration party last week was both the defining and breaking moment for Amora and I. It was when I let her know just how much I felt about her, while she told me why we could never be.

Funny how the world works sometimes, aligning all the right stars only to find out it’s at the wrong time. Pretty sure Remy would say I’m living in a N. Sparks book.“It’s not a romance without a happy ever after.”

I chuckle to myself as I think it, crossing the yard to the door I spend every day passing, wishing like hell it would open. But it never does.

Still, I ordered this stuff before the party, and I will face whatever strained conversation we may have when I give it to her.

I shift the large box under my arm, knocking on the door twice. When she opens it, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

Fuck, I’ve missed you.

Long pink curls fall over her shoulders and onto her favoriteSakunashirt, a pencil stuck behind her ear. Her dark lashes flutter as her pupils dilate in what I assume is surprise. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I reply, trying my hardest not to smile at the sound of her voice.

“Something for the wedding?” She motions to the box briefly before stepping to the side to let me in. She follows behind me but keeps her distance, leaning on the couch arm as I set the box down on the coffee table.

The coffee table.My eyes linger on the empty wood, remembering when papers were scattered and Amora was sprawled on top of them. I wonder if she thinks about it.

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