Page 39 of Damsel in Defense
But the timing isn’t right.As much as I want her, and as much as I know she wants me, tonight is not the night.
“Wait right here,” I tell her as I turn and head into my walk-in closet.Grabbing the first T-shirt I see, I head back to her.The T-shirt is soft and warm in my hands, and when I pull it over her head, it falls to mid-thigh.She looks so small inside it.So heartbreakingly mine.
“It’s a little big,” she jokes.
“It’s perfect.”
“Is it your turn now?”
“My turn,” I agree quietly.
I strip quickly—not rushing but not wanting to tempt fate either.My dick is hard, and my willpower is thin.If she touches me just so…I’m toast.
Kicking off my sweats and standing with nothing on but my boxers, I reach for her hand.She’s got a glazed look on her face that makes me smile.She has the same effect on me.
I pull back the covers of my king bed and help her climb in, then slide in behind her.She wiggles back into me, sighing when she finds the right spot.
The sheets are cool, but her body is warm.She fits perfectly against me, back to chest, and I curl around her like a shield.
Within minutes, her breathing slows.The tension in her spine starts to melt.She lets out a soft sigh and tangles our fingers together again beneath the blanket.I squeeze her hand, letting her know she’s safe.
“Mason?”she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.For everything tonight.”
I press a kiss to the back of her neck, my voice hushed against her skin.
“I’ll always protect you,” I vow.“No matter what.”
She squeezes my hand this time.
I wrap my arm tighter around her waist and bury my face in her hair, letting her scent lull me.Coconut and coffee.And now, me.
And for the first time in days, I breathe—really breathe.
Because she’s here.
Because she’s safe.
And because there’s no place I’d rather be than wrapped up in her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
VICTORIA
As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, the words have been flowing.
My notebook is a mess of lyrics and half-finished verses, and ink is smudged down the side of my hand and arm as I rush to keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of my head.I don’t even know what time it is.Mason’s oversized T-shirt is slipping off one shoulder, my legs tucked underneath me on the couch as I write.
It’s like something cracked open in me last night.
Maybe it was the adrenaline.The way my whole world tipped sideways, only to be caught—literally—by him.Or maybe it was the way he undressed me so gently, like he was trying to peel away the fear instead of just my clothes.
Maybe it was the kiss.
God,thatkiss.
