Page 26 of Savoring Addison

“Addison.” He said it soothingly at first as he rushed in to catch her. When that didn’t do a damn thing, and she kept shrieking that he let her out, he tried his sternest Dom voice instead. “Addison. I can’t help you until you calm yourself. Be still.”

His words had no effect whatsoever. She continued to thrash around as he knelt beside the sofa, half-holding her while he tried to undo the cuffs—right up until the blindfold slid off her eyes.

All the fight went out of her the moment he caught a glimpse of one hazel eye.

Her gaze locked with his for the space of five frozen heartbeats, and then she burst into tears.

It took Mason half a second to form a new plan. With swift movements, he yanked the blindfold the rest of the way off, tossing it over his shoulder. The cuffs followed mere moments later.

Lifting the limp, sobbing woman into his arms, he cradled her against his chest as he carried her from the room.

CHAPTER 9

Addison

“I’m sorry.”

“You have literally nothing to be sorry for.”

“I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ru?—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Addison, you didn’t ruin anything.”

“Did. I. Hurt. You?”

A sigh. “No. My nose isn’t broken.”

God, she wished she could fucking die. “I almost broke your nose?”

When she started to cry again, he pulled her tighter against his chest, fitting his body along hers so their skin touched in a thousand different places. “Shh. You clearly didn’t do that on purpose. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

As if him saying it could make the feelings go away—could take the shame away.

Why the fuck didn’t she rate blindfolds as a one? She should’ve known what would happen. She’d slept with a nightlight in her room for the last three decades, for fuck’s sake. The clues were fucking there.

It simply hadn’t occurred to her that a blindfold would have the same effect as a completely dark room. It always seemed so sexy in books and movies. And after all, the room beyond the blindfold had been flooded with sunlight. It wasn’t the same thing.

The moment the silk covered her eyes, it sure felt the same. She was six years old, trapped, afraid, and alone. The memories flooded her mind, completely overpowering her.

“That’s it,” Mason said, gently stroking her hair as her tears dried up again. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She hated how accusatory her voice sounded.

If he noticed, he didn’t react. “Because you deserve it.”

She didn’t know why his kindness bothered her so much. Maybe because it felt sort of like pity? Why else would someone who hated her for the last week suddenly be so sweet and caring. “I went crazy and almost broke your fucking nose,” she snapped, pulling away enough to glare at him. “Why the fuck would I deserve it?”

Propping himself up with one elbow on the bed, he frowned down at her. “I don’t know what happened in your life,” he said, cupping her cheek. “And you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” His thumb stroked up and down, the touch featherlight. “But I’m absolutely certain you’re not crazy.”

She yanked her head back from his touch. “Oh, you don’t think so?” God, she sounded so angry. So fucking mean. Why did she react this way when he was being overwhelmingly kind? She hated it, but she couldn’t stop it. “What would you call it then?”

He took a few slow breaths, clearly trying to rein in his own temper in the face of hers. “I’m not an expert.” His voice stayed perfectly steady and calm. “But my best guess would be PTSD.”

Addison opened her mouth to argue some more, but no words came out. Hiding her face in a pillow, she started crying again.

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