Page 42 of Boundaries

To say it was the afternoon, the house was deathly silent.

“Where’s your dad?” I questioned, suddenly feeling nosy. Trying to distract myself from that sea-sick feeling which lingered.

“He’s at a retreat with my mother. They go for a few weeks each month,” he replied as he rubbed my arms dry in the towel.

“Why?” I hadn’t a clue what a retreat was.

“Dads in the middle stage of Alzheimer’s. They go to the retreat to rest.” He replied in a calm voice, but I could tell he struggled with his reply.

I felt shattered for him, I had no idea Mitchell’s illness was something like that.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.

“So am I.” His tone was much firmer that time.

Mason still loved his father; despite the harsh treatment he’d received as a child. But that’s the way it was with most people I imagined. You couldn’t change your family.

My legs started shaking again and I leaned against Mason’s strong body. He smelled of hard work and cut grass.

“Here, lay down for a bit,” he suggested, leading me over to his bed. It was a large bed, a four poster. Sweeping a gaze around the room, there was a definite masculine essence present.

“Take off your underwear and wrap yourself in this towel. I’ll give you some privacy,”

I did as he instructed and he came back holding out a large T-shirt.

“Put this on.” He was so bossy and I loved it. Especially as that is exactly what I needed at that point.

Again, I did as he said. I could smell his heady scent as I pulled the tee on and dragged it down. It fell to my knees; it was way too big. I then pulled the damp towel out from under it and Mason took it from me.

The sheets were soft against my skin and I welcomed the plump pillow supporting my face, wondering fleetingly how many women had shared this space with Mason. The thought left a sour taste in my mouth which was odd, like I was jealous or something.

Mason was moving quietly around the room, he was such a large man, I was surprised he travelled with such grace.

I faintly remember the bed sinking as Mason’s weight hit the mattress. He must have laid down next to me at some point. I could sense him and knowing he was there was comforting.

And that was the first time I slept in Mason McKenna’s bed.

*****

I suddenly felt very aware of not being alone. I also wasn’t in my own bed. The realisation of this made me want to sit up, but there was something wrapped around my waist. Holding me tightly.

Mason was laid on the top of the duvet, fully dressed, but one strong arm was curled around my waist. I must have wiggled out from under the sheet. My bare legs were on show and the T-shirt I had been wearing had ridden up. I didn’t have any underwear on.

He looked so peaceful and content and being there on the bed with him didn’t feel as weird as it should have.

Panic flared in my chest. OMG, what the hell? I was certain he hadn’t touched me. He wasn’t that guy. Someone who came onto an unconscious woman. My head still throbbed, but it was much more manageable.

I needed to get out of there before he stirred. I didn’t want to be faced with having to have a conversation with him at that point. I needed some time away, so I could recharge my inner bitch. I eyed the arm that was curled possessively around my stomach, the darkness of his skin so different to my own.

Carefully, I lifted Mason’s arm off me and placed it beside him on the bed. He looked so peaceful with his dark head against the pillow. I then quietly uncurled my body and slid from under the rest of the sheet. I hadn’t a clue where my clothes were and so knew I’d have to make my escape in Mason’s top.

Searching through a couple of drawers, I found a pair of Tommy Hilfiger boxer briefs and pulled them on, I couldn’t bomb it from their house without any underwear on. The fact that I was wearing Mason’s pants, didn’t faze me for some reason.

He stirred in the bed suddenly, pushing onto his back and stretching his hands above his head.

“Amy, please,” he whispered. My heart jolted as he said my name and I narrowed my eyes, remaining as quiet as a mouse. Was he awake?

After a beat or two, I realised he was still sleeping. Why had he said my name? Was he dreaming about me? The thought made me feel confused and giddy at the same time.

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