Page 118 of Shamed
Yet, I’m the burden he’s got.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Mase
Is it possible to know someone’s heart and soul, but nottrulyknow them?
My fingers move over the strings of my guitar while my eyes remain closed, my mind a carousel of thoughts going around andaround.
It’s been six days since Jayne and I had sex at the gym, and while I felt like we got closer that night, it seemed like she quickly erected a wall, making sure to keep a measure of distance between us. Then has ensured neither of us bash through that wall, or climb over it, ever since.
I change the chords, strumming a different song.
“Shimmer” by Fuel fills my room as I stretch my legs out in front of me.
Our routine has stayed mostly the same, with some kissing and cuddling added into the mix when we’re both at home, but that wall is still there, blocking my path to fully reach her.
The fact she’s still been sleeping in the guest bedroom probably hasn’t helped with my turning thoughts, though I know it’s for the best. Living and sleeping together when we’re still just figuring things out would be a lot for both of us.
Maybe her behavior is just due to her period, and I’m reading too much into it. But my gut tells me it’s not.
I’m still coming to terms with the fact that she now knows all my secrets, and she’s still here.
I just wishIknew everything abouther.
I have a feeling that her wall has to do with the things she’s keeping quiet about.
The questions are still there, sitting at the back of my mind. Questions about her choice of work, the cuts on her arms, her parents, why she was so alone and didn’t want help.
For now, I keep those questions to myself, but we need to have a conversation soon.
A quiet knock on my door pulls my eyes open. “Come in.”
Opening the door, Jayne steps in, and my body immediately reacts to the sight of her. She’s dressed in a long-sleeved pajama shirt and matching short shorts that show off her legs, and her hair is piled on top of her head in an adorable messy bun.
“Hey, I wasn’t keeping you up with my playing, was I?”
“No, I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Do you need anything?” I ask, putting my guitar aside.
Jayne huffs a quiet laugh. “Mase, you’ve been doing things for me all week. I’m okay.”
With slow steps, she walks the perimeter of my room, trailing a finger over my dresser while her eyes remain pinned on me. The look on her face is like she’s come here with a purpose, but is still questioning herself.
She comes to a stop in front of me, her lips quirked up on one side. “I’ve been thinking . . . I wanted to show you my appreciation for all you’ve done for me this week.”
Lifting a hand, she drags her fingers through my hair, almost making me groan at the sensation.
“I didn’t do anything.” My eyes flutter closed when she scrapes her nails over my skull.
“You made me sit on the couch while you brought me everything and gave me massages. That’s not nothing.” Her nailsmake a few more circles on my head before going down my neck and chest, sending a shiver up my spine and making my cock stir.
I open my eyes to see Jayne lowering to her knees in front of me, her gaze trained on my crotch, hands reaching for my thighs. “What are you doing?”
“I told you,” she says quietly, her throat rolling with a swallow. “I wanted to say thank you.”
My heart starts pounding, cock growing thick in my thin pajama pants.
