Page 63 of Twilight Mask

Marco’s silent. I let the story end there. I could tell him more: the years of therapy, the fights with my mother, the struggle to feel sane again. I lashed out as a kid after it all went down, and I could never get back that trust again, and in the end I decided it was easier to stay away from people, to sculpt, to hide. I’d hit first and fight like a beast and never, ever take shit, not ever again. But mostly I just hid. That way, nobody could hurt me.

“I’m so sorry,” Marco says. “If I had known?—”

“How could you have? I don’t go around announcing to people that I was raped by my art teacher when I was fifteen. Not exactly an easy thing to talk about.”

“Still.” He blows out a long breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. I feel better already.” And it’s true: in times past, I’d be an emotional, shaking wreck for a whole day after a panic attack, but I’m starting to feel more like myself already, barely an hour later.

“I can’t imagine what you went through.”

“It was strange, you know? My dad, he was so mad for a while, but I was the youngest and a girl, and sort of an afterthought. He got over it, then everyone else got over it, and I thought I did too. Then tonight happens.”

“Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy, and I’m glad you feel like you can trust me enough to share.”

I smile a little and put my hand on his leg. He takes my fingers into his and squeezes, and we hold like that for a while as we get deeper and deeper into the city, winding our way back to his condo. Once he parks next to my car, the thought of driving back to the oasis and going into my cold, empty, quiet house feels like an impossibility, and I hold onto his hand tighter.

“I don’t want to go home,” I say, looking at him.

Marco’s head tilts. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Yes. Please.” I lean across the car and kiss him. I run my fingers through his hair. This, right here, this is what I’ve been looking for all this time. A simple moment, a good one. I feel unburdened and free. I can choose, and my choice matters. “Do you mind?”

“Baby, no part of me ever wants you to go home,” he says softly, brushing his knuckles across my cheek.

“Good. Then come on. You better have something to drink up there.”

He laughs and leads me across the parking lot, and I don’t care that I couldn’t so much as make it through a gallery opening without having a total meltdown. At least I’m here with him, and now he knows me, he can really see me for what I am, and he’s not pulling away.

Chapter 29

Marco

Laura’s still in my bed in the morning. I halfway expected her to be gone; instead, she’s sleeping soundly at seven when I slip into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Flashes of the night before: Laura having a panic attack at the gallery; her story in the car; her laughter over wine; her mouth on mine in bed; our bodies, tangled and sweaty. I barely slept, and that’s just fine. I’ll be tired today, but I’m also invigorated from having her over and being with her as Marco, instead of as Jackal.

There were no games tonight. It was just two people sharing parts of themselves. I feel like we took a huge leap forward and just confirmed that everything I’ve been feeling since we met is real.

This isn’t just lust. It’s not just some sex game we’re playing. There’s real emotion between us, and I’m falling for her harder than I ever dreamed I could.

I caught a glimpse of the girl she’s hiding the night before. That story about what happened to her, it fucking killed me. It made me want to ride out and murder that Nicolas guy just for the crime of resembling her rapist. But that’s absurd, and what happened to her was a long time ago now, and it sounds like the guy got what he deserved.

And it still haunts me. I wish I could do more, but there’s a helplessness to other people’s trauma. I can’t fix it, and I can’t even make it better. All I can do is be there for her when she needs me and hope that’s enough.

“I thought I smelled coffee.” She appears in the kitchen doorway wearing one of my black t-shirts. It looks like a dress on her, and when she comes over to kiss me, it raises up slightly above her bare ass. No panties, nothing underneath. Fuck, she’s so sexy it kills me.

“Careful,” I say softly as I nibble on her lower lip. “If you keep distracting me, you won’t get any breakfast.”

“Who says I want any? And you’re the one distracted, not me.”

I cup her ass with both hands. “You can’t walk in here looking like this and think I’m going to keep my hands to myself.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me.” She grins, takes my coffee cup from the counter, and pats my cheek as she walks away, hips swaying. She’s doing it on purpose, and I have to take a couple breaths to get myself under control.

Until I realize, fuck control, and follow her into the bedroom.

The girl’s my breakfast today. She tries to escape, but I steal the coffee away, swallow it in one hot go, then pin her down on the bed and take her until we’re both twitching, sweaty messes. She sprawls across my chest, grinning and satisfied, still wearing the shirt. I pat her ass, my cock half hard still.

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