Page 68 of The Masks We Burn
In my town, there was no one who wanted for anything. Sure, there were those who were better off than others, but we didn’t let our neighbors suffer if they were going through a hard time. Hell, most of us had access to freshly grown produce every day. But if something else came up, the community pitched in to help. That’s just how Fallen Meadow was.
So now, as I listen to her heartbreaking story and picture her having to go through that, anger and sadness swirl in my gut, the ache in my body is so visceral, I’m nauseous. “I hate you had to go through that, Amora.”
She shrugs, finally peering up at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy but fuck if she isn’t breathtakingly beautiful in my arms. “It’s the past.”
“But it still very much affects you. And not just with the weather.”
Amora nods, and I let one of my hands come up to stroke her jaw. “What is the deal you have with your mother?”
She swallows thickly, her eyebrows furrowing. “If I don’t find a lucrative job after graduation, I need to move back home and marry someone she finds for me. If I refuse, she’ll cut me off, basically forcing me to do it anyway.”
There is no out because her mother knows Amora’s fears of living in poverty again will make her bend in the end.
“I want to live my life without needing anyone; without having to depend on someone to take care of me.”
It hits me like a freight train to my gut, the realization forcing bile into my throat. Everything my parents raised me to be—a provider, a protector, everything that comes naturally to me, is everything she doesn’t want.
I swallow her words, listening to the rain pelt against the tent. What do you do if you know the ride you’re about to get on is going to crash, but it will be the best one of your life?
If you’re like me, you buckle up and hope that you at least make it out alive.
“Will?” Amora’s voice is louder now, some of the timidness gone as she sits up. “Can we pretend for one second we don’t have any agreements or deals? Can you be Will and I’ll be Amora, and can we just be us for one minute and pretend this doesn’t have to end?”
“Amora…”It doesn’t have to. I don’t want it to.
But I can’t tell her that. I know now more than ever. So instead, I nod and kiss her softly.
My heart isn’t racing.My stomach isn’t in my throat. There isn’t some impending doom hovering over my head.
I’m safe.
Hemakes me feel safe.
Hell, he makes me feel a lot of things, but more than that, he doesn’t judge me, or push me, or make me feel anything negative.
In another life, I would have fallen head over heels in love with him. I’d be putty in his hands, and there’d be no doubt just how good he would treat me. How well he’d take care of me.
And for one night, I want to pretend that we would work out. Pretend I don’t have such ingrained fears and mommy issues and I’d be able to overcome them. Pretend as if I could be what he deserves.
BecauseGod,does he deserve a queen.
I twist in his lap and press my lips to his. It’s light and slow at first. I need it to be so I can remember this. Remember how they’re soft and firm at the same time. How when his tongue slips into my mouth, it wrestles with mine in the most delicious way and makes my body tight all over.
His fingers slide to either side of my head, drawing me closer as he pushes my body back into the mattress, his mouth never leaving mine. I run my hands along his arms, trying to memorize every dip and curve of his muscle—memorize the arms that have cradled, hugged, lifted me up, and fucked me.
Will makes quick work of stripping us both down before settling between my legs, leaning forward on his forearms and resting his forehead on mine.
I wrap my legs around his waist and shift, his length pressing into me at the perfect angle. “Will.”
I need to tell him. I need him to know how sorry I am—how much I wish I could be what he needs.
But he kisses my nose and shakes his head slowly. “Stay with me. Right here. In this moment.”
“Okay.” My voice is little more than a whisper.
“Okay,” he repeats before sliding inside me, capturing my gasp in his mouth.
His lips continue to press against mine as he slowly drags himself out and drives back in. Every thrust is slow and long, filling me to the hilt and then leaving me empty. He keeps his pace steady, driving my nerves wild from the constant loss of him.
