50. Mason #3
The way she says my name, the way she believes in me, the way she makes me feel like I could do anything if I just put my mind to it—amazes me. It’s truly one of her many superpowers.
She has a heart like my mom’s. The first one I’ve ever come across that truly reminds me of hers.
It’s special—she’s special.
She watches me like she’s trying to read every thought passing behind my eyes. “You’ve been different lately,” she says. “In a good way.”
I let out a small huff. “I’m trying.”
“I see that.”
The pride in her voice almost undoes me.
For a moment, neither of us speaks before her hand shifts just slightly, brushing against mine on the center console. My hand instinctively comes up to hold hers before she can pull it away, and my thumb moves absentmindedly over her knuckles.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
“Mason…” she starts, then hesitates.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t wanna lose you.”
“You won’t.”
The promise feels heavy leaving my mouth. Because I don’t know if it’s one I can keep—no matter how much I try.
She shifts closer. “I…I know we said no labels,” she says carefully.
My pulse picks up. “But?”
“But I don’t know why this can never feel just casual with you.”
My jaw flexes, and I shake my head at the ridiculousness of that. “Simone…nothing about you has ever been casual for me.”
Her eyes flick to mine, searching, a little disbelieving, but hopeful…and terrified.
All of the above, all at once.
I move first without realizing it, my hand sliding up her arm slowly—giving her time to pull away if she wants.
She doesn’t.
Her breathing changes, though, getting shallower now.
My fingers reach her jaw, brushing a curl away from her cheek. “You’re so beautiful it actually makes me mad sometimes,” I murmur.
A small smile breaks through. “That’s a new one.”
“I’m serious. You walk into a room, and suddenly nothing else exists. It’s just you that I see.”
Her eyes flutter close, and the tension feels like it could be snapped with a single touch in this moment.
“Mason…”
“Yeah?”
“Can you hurry up and kiss me already?”
I smirk and then lean in, not hesitating to give her what she wants.
She moans into my mouth, and that sound alone almost wrecks any restraint I have.
Her hands slide into my hair the way I love.
It’s like she’s trying to hold me here—with her.
Like she doesn’t know I’m not going anywhere.
Like she doesn’t realize how I’m addicted to her more than any drink out there.
I deepen the kiss, needing more of her, and she leans into it, pressing her body against mine over the console. That tiny movement tells me everything I need to know about what she wants.
My other hand finds her waist, guiding her as close as I can get her in this car.
She tastes warm, like sugar, and temptation, and everything good in life that I don’t deserve.
I break the kiss and stare at her. “You’re gonna ruin me, Edwards.”
She looks up at me, blinking those long dark lashes that could get me to do literally anything she wanted—just say the word, pretty girl, I’m at your service.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, shyly.
I shake my head. “No. I’d happily lie down during rush hour on a busy highway if it would make you happy.”
Her eyes go wide in that cute appalled way. “Mason! That is so morbid!”
I kiss the top of her head, chuckling. “Sorry, it’s true.”
She laughs and pulls me back to her, kissing me again, even deeper this time, her fingers gripping my shoulders.
Every nerve ending in my body lights up.
I need her as badly as I need to breathe.
I need her like the edge of the ocean needs to swallow the sun.
I need her the way storms need somewhere to land.
She makes everything…fuck, she makes everything more bearable. She actually makes me want to be better.
The windows are starting to fog slightly from the warmth building inside the car—building between us. And my restraint is hanging by a thread.
“If we keep going,” I say quietly against her mouth, “I’m not gonna be able to stop.”
Her eyes darken, and I see the dare behind them that makes my body hum with need.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
The restraint snaps—not like it had anything left to hang to.
I drag her fully into my lap, and she lets out a soft gasp that goes straight into my bloodstream. My hands settle at her hips, grounding myself before I lose all control.
“You sure this is the kind of trouble you wanna get into tonight?” I murmur near her ear.
She shivers and then nods.
I tug her shirt off over her head, and she quickly moves to unbutton my pants.
I lean back, watching her, taking in every frantic movement—enjoying seeing her as desperate as I feel inside.
She takes me in her hand, and before I let her guide me inside her, I take her face in my hands, making her look at me.
“Stay with me tonight, okay?”
Her eyes almost roll to the back of her head as she pants in anticipation.
“Okay,” she whispers.
It’s just us here—no problems, no addiction, no self-loathing, no expectations—just two people who can be stripped bare in front of each other and not be scared of the repercussions.
There’s trust here, something that I’m not used to—something that scares me to be wrong about.