Page 34 of Without Judgment

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mason

That made one of us who was fine. I certainly wasn’t. In addition to having the smell of her on my fingers, I had a raging hard-on that refused to go away. But what I didn’t have was any lingering trace of my nightmare. Of course, I didn’t analyze that little piece of information.

“Fuck,” I muttered getting back into bed.

I decided to take things into my own hands. Literally. I closed my eyes to the smell and feel of her, and experienced some regret that I hadn’t admitted wanting her in the least. I’d let her go with the assumption it had been completely one-sided. Hell, yes, I’d been half asleep, but the woman I’d been imagining beneath me was her. Clearly. She was the only one I’d ever called princess. Christ, I could still see the hurt flash on her face when I’d lied about calling other women by her nickname. But if I’d told her I’d been dreaming of her, it wouldn’t exactly send the message that it couldn’t happen again.

I’d crossed a professional line and needed to do damage control.

After I jerked off.

While I was contemplating breakfast in the kitchen an hour later, Avery walked in. She was dressed casually in shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair was down, and she didn’t have on a shred of makeup. I thought she’d never looked more beautiful. At least until I focused on her face and realized her eyes were puffy. Like she’d been crying.

Shit. The guilt hit me hard. I was responsible. I’d hurt her. And this. This is why I didn’t mess with girls like Avery. There was no doubt I desired her, but she had commitment written all over her. She wasn’t the type to have sex without strings. She was the type to develop an attachment where she’d expect a relationship, flowers, dates. The whole kit and kaboodle. And I wasn’t the guy for that. Self-preservation ensured I didn’t let people get close to me.

“Good morning,” I greeted and noted her cheeks turned red. The observation did nothing for the state of my cock since I guessed she was replaying what had happened earlier.

“Morning.” She proceeded to take out a loaf of bread, eggs, and milk before reaching for cinnamon and vanilla in the pantry. She put all of the ingredients onto the kitchen island.

“What are you making?”

“French toast casserole. My mom used to make it for Sunday breakfasts. Comfort food, I suppose. Same with her spaghetti, which ended up being buttered noodles with garlic since I wasn’t much on the red sauce.”

That’s right. It was the anniversary of her mother’s death. Was there such a thing as compounded guilt? I thought so because mine was stacking up. “Anything I can do?”

She finally made eye contact. “If you haven’t eaten, maybe have breakfast with me. This makes a big batch.”

I gave her a soft smile. “Deal. Um, look, about this morning...”

She held up her hand. “Nope. We are never, ever discussing it. Ever.”

I let out a sigh, wanting to apologize again but knowing she was right. Even though I was not about to forget her scent on my fingers any time soon. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“So long as we’re really okay with it, then yes.” Hell, avoidance was my middle name. If we were evading feelings instead of talking about them, I’d jump at the chance.

Turned out French toast casserole was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. And despite us eating in silence, I could tell it meant a lot to her to be able to share the meal with someone.

I hated to see her sad. And not sad in the way some girls pretend to be sad, but in the way that extinguishes the light behind someone’s eyes. I knew the emotion all too well. I had to brace myself for my mom’s birthday, Mother’s Day, Christmas, and the anniversary of her death. But at least I’d had her until I’d been an adult. Avery had lost hers at a pivotal age. Now I had a sense of why she was who she was and why she’d been searching for security from such a young age.

I let her stay in her room for the remainder of the morning, but by afternoon I’d had enough. I needed to do something to cheer her up. Maybe to ease my guilt over this morning, too. Something which wouldn’t get me in trouble, which meant getting us out of the house. That would be the safest way to ensure there wouldn’t be an encore of last night’s performance.

My knuckles rapped on her door. When she answered, my words died on my lips, because once again, her fresh-faced beauty took me off guard. “I have a surprise for you if you get dressed.” My voice came out huskier than I’d intended, but luckily, she didn’t seem to notice.

“Leg workout?” she asked, reminding me how hard I’d worked her the other day.

“No. Better.”

She perked up a bit. “Okay. I showered, but I need to put on makeup and get dressed.”

“Just throw on something. No need for makeup. You’re prettier without it, anyhow.”

Her eyes went wide, and I realized what I’d said. Great. Now my face was heating. “I’ll, um, meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

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