Page 45 of Damsel in Defense
“I know what you’ve been through.I know how the media treated you, how people assumed the worst.You’re scared to trust this.To trustme.But I need you to know I’m all in, Victoria.I want you here.In my life.In my bed.In myfuture.”
The room spins, just a little.
“I want you when things are messy.When you’re writing till 3:00 a.m.and I have early practice.I want you when the world is kind to us, when it isn’t.I want you when you’re mad and sad and brilliant and sleepy and loud and soft.I just wantyou, Victoria Westwyld.Just you.”
The silence between us stretches long and delicate, like a thread about to snap.
He starts to back away, panic flickering behind his eyes, but I grab his wrists and step in.
My lips find his.
Soft at first.A breath.A question.
Thenyes.A thousand yeses.
My hands slide up his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt.He groans into my mouth like he’s just barely holding it together.
When we break apart, both of us breathing hard, I press my forehead to his.
“Mason,” I whisper.“I’ve never felt this way before.And it scares the hell out of me.”
“Me too,” he admits.“But if I’m going to fall for someone—completely and recklessly—it’s going to be you.”
I nod against his lips, heart galloping in my chest.
“Then we’re not faking it anymore.”
“No, honey,” he murmurs.“This is as real as it gets.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
VICTORIA
My back hits the wall before I’ve fully processed what’s happening.
Mason’s mouth is on mine, and his hands are cradling my face with such gentle urgency that it makes my chest ache.Not from fear or pain, but from howmuchI want this.How badly I wanthim.
“I meant what I said,” he breathes between kisses.“Every word.”
I nod, too breathless to speak.My hands dive into his damp hair, tugging him closer as I arch into him.There’s no mistaking it—no faking it.This isn’t pretend.This is us, raw and real and unravelling.
We barely make it through the front door of his condo.
He backs me in, lips still on mine, one arm around my waist while the other fumbles to get the door closed behind us.The second it latches, I’m pressed against it, my body flush to his, the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt making me whimper.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, his forehead pressing to mine.
“Don’t you dare.”
That’s all the permission he needs.
He lifts me effortlessly, and my legs wrap around his waist.His mouth is everywhere—my lips, my neck, that tender spot just below my ear that makes me shiver.I’m vaguely aware that we’re moving, his long strides taking us to the bedroom, but it feels like floating.
He sets me down with a reverence that steals my breath, and I watch, wide-eyed and ravenous, as he peels off his shirt.The moment his abs are bared, I reach for him, palms sliding up the hot skin of his stomach to his chest.
“You’re unreal,” I murmur.
“So are you,” he says, fingers finding the hem of my sweater.“Let me see you, honey.”
