Page 5 of Love, Clumsily
“Mason—”
“Please,” he interrupted. “Trust me on this. I want you—god, I want you so much it hurts—but I need… time. To prepare. To make sure I don’t…”
“Don’t what?” I asked, still leaning against the door, my lips tingling from his kiss.
He ran a hand over his face. “Lose control,” he finally said. “I’m afraid of losing control with you.”
There was something in his voice—something primal and almost dangerous—that should have scared me. Instead, it sent a thrill of excitement through me.
“What if I want you to lose control?” I asked softly.
He closed his eyes briefly, like my words caused him physical pain. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he repeated.
“Then tell me,” I insisted.
“I can’t. Not yet.” He took another step back. “I should go. I’m sorry.”
Before I could protest, he leaned in for one more brief, searing kiss, then turned and walked away, his strides long and purposeful. At the edge of my property, he looked back once, his expression a mixture of desire and what looked almost like grief.
Then he disappeared into the darkness, leaving me aroused, confused, and more intrigued than ever.
What the hell are you hiding, Mason Holloway?I wondered, pressing my fingers to my still-tingling lips.And why do I have the feeling it’s going to change everything?
Chapter 3
Two weeks after our dinner at Sullivan’s, I was no closer to uncovering Mason’s secret, but I was definitely falling for him. Hard.
We’d been on four more dates, each ending with increasingly hot make-out sessions that always stopped short of the bedroom. Each time, Mason would pull away, breathing hard, eyes wild, muttering something about “not being ready” or “needing more time.”
It was maddening, especially because I could feel how much he wanted me. There was no hiding his arousal, not when he was practically grinding against me with desperate need before abruptly putting on the brakes.
“Maybe he’s religious,” suggested Sara, the owner of the local bookstore and my only friend in Pine Haven so far. We were having coffee at The Daily Grind, and I’d just finished recounting my frustrating romantic situation.
“He’s not religious,” I said, stirring my latte absently. “He swears like a sailor when he stubs his toe, and he definitely wasn’t saying ‘oh God’ in a spiritual context when I had my hand down his pants yesterday.”
Sara choked on her coffee. “TMI, Julian.”
“Sorry,” I said, not feeling sorry at all. “I’m just confused. He’s clearly into me. I’m definitely into him. But every time things get hot and heavy, he puts on the brakes like he’s afraid of something.”
“Maybe he is,” Sara said thoughtfully. “Afraid, I mean.”
“Of what? I’m five-ten and weigh about as much as one of his thighs. He could bench press me.”
“Maybe it’s not physical fear,” she suggested. “Maybe he’s been hurt before. Or maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
She hesitated. “This is Pine Haven. People here have… secrets.”
“What, like he’s in witness protection? Has a secret family? Is actually three raccoons in a human suit?” I was only half-joking about the last one—it would explain his occasional awkwardness.
Sara laughed, but there was something forced about it. “Just… be careful, okay? Mason’s a good guy, but he’s… different.”
“Different how?” I pressed.
“Not my story to tell,” she said firmly. “Just keep an open mind.”
* * *
