Page 109 of Shamed
After we’ve all practiced on each other a number of times, Mase has each woman come to the front to demonstrate on him, so he can personally adjust anything they might be doing wrong.
Each woman except me, that is.
He skips over me entirely, then starts reiterating the few things to keep in mind, depending on the size of the person and where we are at the time of the attack.
I’m not overly surprised, and if the others noticed, they don’t say anything.
Picking up a stack of papers from the ground, he begins handing them out. “This sheet details the moves you learned tonight, so you don’t forget and can continue practicing at home.” He hands me one, his dark eyes staring into mine for a moment before he continues, “Tomorrow night’s class will be focusing on getting out of a chokehold, whether standingor pinned to the ground. It can be triggering for some, but if that’s something that interests you, feel free to drop in again.”
He dismisses the class, and after collecting their jackets and bags, the women start exiting the room.
I linger, then follow them out to the exit, checking to make sure the space is empty before I lock the door behind the last woman who leaves.
Mase is usually the last one at the gym after his class is done and is the one to lock up for the night, so we’re alone.
My heart picks up speed as I walk back into the room we were in.
Mase is walking to where his towel and water bottle are when I re-enter and doesn’t notice me.
With his back to me, he tips the water up to his mouth, not hearing me walking in his direction, the padding below my feet absorbing my steps.
Finally, Mase turns around and sees me, surprise flickering across his face before it tugs down into something solemn, something vulnerable. “Are you here to tell me that you’re going back to your apartment?”
God, he really was expecting me to leave, wasn’t he?
“No. Not at all.”
“Then what are you still doing here?”
I lift my chin. “You didn’t let me demonstrate the maneuver on you.”
He swallows, looking away. “I was watching you. Your moves are good.”
I step a little closer. “Mandy is smaller than me. I would rather test my moves on someone who has no problem holding me down.”
Midnight eyes snap back to me. “Idohave a problem with holding you down.”
Mase’s wavy hair is slightly damp, causing the ends to curl around his ears and neck, his jaw is set, a muscle popping occasionally, and those bottomless eyes definitely hold secrets . . . I just didn’t realize they were the painful type.
“I meant strength-wise.”
He stands there, muscular arms limp at his sides, veins running down his tattooed forearms to his big hands, chest broad and solid.
The man looks like sex personified, yet he’s only been with one other woman and has denied himself the true pleasures and connections associated with sex his whole life.
Not that I can talk, but at least I understand where I broke. His breaking was done beneath the surface and was never located to be fixed.
All I wanted to do when he was telling me about his past was reach out and wrap my arms around him. He’s done nothing but encourage me—make me feel stronger and make sure I was okay—all while his soul was in pieces.
I wish I could share the parts of my soul that aren’t ugly and tainted, and put him back together.
Mase has always been the one to help me, and everyone else, so I want to be the one who helps him this time.
I don’t even know if there is anything Icando, but I have to trysomething. Convince him somehow.
I take a step, then another, until I’m standing directly in front of him, neck craned to look up at him. A mix of clean sweat and the lingering scent of his woodsy body wash envelops me as I inhale, heart pounding.
“Jayne,” he whispers, tone almost desperate. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
