Page 115 of Shamed
I close my eyes, dropping my head backward. “Thank freaking goodness.”
That explains my over-active emotions the past couple of days.
I finish cleaning up, thanking my stars that it didn’t come earlier tonight, or that could have been really awkward.
I’m out of pads, and low on tampons, so I make a mental note to stop and pick up more supplies, then fold a bunch of toilet paper to use for now.
I spend the next few minutes avoiding the mirror, then a few more extra minutes despising myself when Idoend up looking.
Once I’m done, I make my way to the front entrance.
Mase is already there, showered and changed, looking so damn good as he sits on the bench seat, waiting, hands clasped below his chin in thought. Did I really take that long?
As soon as I step closer, his eyes lift to meet mine, then he reaches out and uses the waistband of my leggings to pull me into him as he stands, his arms wrapping around me for a hug.
Surprised, it takes me an extra second before I slide my arms around him in return.
“We’ve had sex twice, and both times, I’ve left you without so much as a touch. I want to fix that.”
I melt into him, breathing in the fresh scent of his spicy bodywash. “Neither of us have had normal sexual experiences, so I don’t hold it against you.”
He breathes deeply, hugging me a little tighter. “You make me feel like I could be normal one day.”
My emotions rise to the surface again, tightening my throat, and I have to hide the tears that fill my eyes. “You deserve everything, Mase.”
“So do you.”
I feel him kiss the top of my head as a single tear escapes, and I try to discreetly wipe it away.
I absolutely do not deserve this man.
We pull apart, and I get a hold of myself while Mase locks up. I’m only mostly okay by the time we get into his truck and start the drive back to Mase’s apartment.
“So, you’re not at work tonight.” It’s not asked as a question, but the question is definitely implied.
“I took the night off to come see you.”
He glances at me, eyes soft in the dark interior. Reaching over, he takes my hand and squeezes it, sending a tingle up my arm. “I’m glad you’re not there.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, staring at his side profile while my heart is caught between expanding and shriveling. I face forward again, trying hard not to let it show on my face. But then I remember. “Oh, can you make a stop on the way home?”
“Sure. Where?”
“Walgreens would be good.” I point to the sign up ahead.
Mase flings his gaze to me, and then back to the road, silent as he stares at the sign like I just gave him a puzzle to solve. “Jesus.” He lets go of my hand and rubs his forehead before dragging his hand down his face. “I didn’t even ask if you were on birth control. I’m sorry. That was really shitty.”
“Oh. Yeah, it wasn’t something I was thinking about, either.”
Scratching at the back of his neck, he asks, “Are you . . . on anything?”
“I’m not.” His face seems to lose color, so I quickly add, “But I actually just got my period right after we . . . and I need to pick up some feminine products.”
He probably thought I was going to pick up Plan B when I mentioned Walgreens, but thankfully, it’s not on the shopping list tonight.
“Oh.” He taps the steering wheel a couple of times, color returning to his face. “Yeah, sure. Absolutely.”
“Thank you.”
