Although it was an obvious joke, he appeared to give it serious consideration. "Well, I'd usethatbefore 'donk.'"
I saw his point. As far as words to describe sex, donk was totally lacking. But the strangest thing was, the term had seemed perfectly fine until now.
Meaning until Mason.
After my encounter withhim, the word seemed utterly ridiculous.Why was that?Was it because sex with Mason had been too incredible for such a silly word? Or was it because he made me feel things that I'd never felt before?
What those feelings were, I didn't want to speculate. And yet, Iwasspeculating, not just now, but during the past few weeks. Now, as my thoughts churned, I heard myself say, "What wouldyoucall it?"
"Call what?"
Embarrassment made me hesitate until curiosity won out. "Like, you know how I say 'donk' to describe a certain act. What's your slang word?" The question had barely left my lips when a sudden recollection made me freeze. "Wait. Never mind."
Mason studied my face. "Why?"
"Because I already know."
"You know what?"
"What your word is," I said. "It's 'bang', right?" With an awkward laugh, I added, "As in, you don't 'bang' the Help."
Meaning me.
And yet, he had.
Mason frowned. "I shouldn't have said that."
I tried to laugh. "No kidding, especially because you did." I lifted my hands and made little air-quotes between us. "Bang the Help, I mean."
"Cami…" His voice softened. "Whatever you are, you're not the Help."
It was such a nice thought. But it wasn't accurate, and it seemed silly to pretend otherwise. "I am, too."
"Listen—"
"No. It's okay, honest. I mean, I took this job knowing full well what I was getting into."
His gaze locked on mine. "Did you?"
"Well…" I bit my lip. "Maybe I didn't anticipateeverythingthat would happen, but Ididknow that I'd be your live-in employee, and thus—"
"Don't say it."
"Why not?" I said. "I am what I am, for now anyway. And honestly, this is a really good job. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but sometimes it doesn't feel like a job at all."
"Is that so?"
I nodded. "Willow – she's amazing." I smiled through my awkwardness. "And she'sreallyfun, too."
With surprising tenderness, he said, "And so are you."
I wasn't sure which word he meant – fun or amazing. Regardless, it was such a lovely thing to say, especially coming from Mason, who no one would describe as warm and fuzzy.
And maybe if he'd been somebody else –anybodyelse – I might've gotten lost in the tenderness of his words.Or his eyes.Or the memories of what we'd shared during that one incredible night.
It hadn't been donking.
Or banging.
