Page 81 of Take Me
In the quiet that follows, I picture the moment Neil dropped that plate of potatoes.Annabelle rushed to clean up the mess, looking edgy and nervous.“She handled it well.”
Mason doesn’t ask who I mean.“Belle’s always had grace under pressure.”
“It’s one of the things you loved about her.”
I’m not expecting an answer, but Mason looks deep in my eyes.“I suppose.”
My throat feels throbby, so I may as well ask the question that’s bouncing around in my brain.“Do you still love her?”
He doesn’t respond right away.My pulse throbs in my ears, filling my head with wet cotton and doubt.
“I’ll always love her, in a way.”His voice is warm velvet.“But sometimes I’m not sure what sort of love it was.”
I catch myself holding my breath.“How do you mean?”
“She’s pretty and kind and smart and loves animals, and I got so wrapped up in the fantasy of what our life would be like together.I pictured us having a few kids, maybe a big yard filled with flowers and driftwood and pets that she’s nursed back to health.”
“That sounds lovely.”I touch Mason’s chest, ignoring the sting in my own.
“It does,” he says mildly, his eyes searching mine.“But was I in love with Annabelle, or the idea of her?”
I don’t have the answer, and he doesn’t seem to expect one.It’s a rhetorical question, one filling my heart with equal parts lightness and dread.
The silence spans out for a few million seconds, and it’s me who finally breaks.“I’m not sure you can separate the dream from the real-life woman.”
“No?”He doesn’t sound sure.
“Do you think you can?”
“I honestly don’t have a clue.”He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.“This might come as a shock, but I’m not much of an expert on love.”
My chuckle sounds hollow and forced.“At least you make up for it with humor and calligraphy skills.”
Turning his head, he looks into my eyes.He caresses my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone.“This feels pretty real to me.”
My heart starts to gallop, absorbing the words he’s just said.Is he suggesting?—?
Is he feeling?—?
“What do you mean?”I blurt.
Mason’s hand drops to the duvet between us.“I mean, this is nice.”One edge of his mouth quirks.“Better than nice.”
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?”The kettledrum thud of my heart fills my ears.
“I want to make love to you.”
That’s the first time he’s said it like that.Making loveinstead of some silly euphemism.Is he feeling the same way I’ve been feeling?As my heart slams its delicate meat against the wall of my ribs, I think maybe he is.
“I want that, too.”
We don’t speak after that.No joking around or tickling ’til one of us shrieks out for mercy.He undresses me slowly, kissing each newly bared body part.I peel off his shirt, letting my fingers trace each curve of muscle.When I look in his eyes, I see shades of blue I’ve never noticed before.Cobalt and cyan, even a few flecks of green.There’s an ocean of hues I’m just now discovering, and I feel myself being pulled under.
“Mason.”I cling to his shoulders as he slides inside me.I’m gasping for breath, inhaling the scent of his skin.Ripples of pleasure pulse through my core, deeper than any I’ve felt before now.
“Fuck, Erika.”He drives into me harder, eyes searching mine.“I never knew it could be like this.”
“Same, oh my God.”
