Page 118 of Stolen Moments

“Jeez, Em. Did you even talk to Mason, or did you just climb up on his dick every chance you got?”

“We talked.” Over text and, of course, when I wasn’t riding his dick.

“Then why are your cheeks turning red?” he questions my reddening face as I turn away.

No way in hell will I talk about my sex life with my brother. He can share all he wants, but I think of him as my kid, so it’s hard for me to get past that.

Thinking back, Mason and I kept our relationship in a bubble. Every text, conversation, and meet-up was about us. The outside world didn’t exist when I was with him. Aside from Chris and the one story I told him about my grandfather, I didn’t bring up my past and especially not my parents. That would have only led to questions I couldn’t answer.

I have a feeling Mason felt the same way. At times, he was just as evasive as I was. He never used names, and the one brother I did meet was in passing, back in January.

“Em, I gotta go. I got a hot date tonight,” Chris says, interrupting my runaway brain.

“Alright, Chrisy. Be safe.”

“Always. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

We hang up, and I throw my phone on the pillow beside me, replaying what Chris said about Mason being jealous.

There is no way he’d be jealous of me bringing someone. We haven’t been together since July, and I refuse to count our bathroom encounter. That little rendezvous was born out of longing, anger, and desperation, and according to Mason, it meant nothing.

The little devil on my shoulder wonders if he would be green with envy if I showed up with Graham.

Never gonna happen. No way would I bring a date to Rylann’s wedding. Picturing him with another woman on his arm makes my gut roil, and tears prickle my eyes. I’d probably die from heartbreak right there, in the middle of the room, if I had to witness that in person. Just thinking about him moving on hurts like a dagger to the heart.

Mason might have walked away from me, but I still love him, and hurting him is the last thing I want to do.

Chapter thirty-nine

Mason

Thanks-fucking-giving.

Okay, so maybe I’m grouchier than usual. But this year has been shit. I’m just waiting for another kick to the balls at this point. I’m tired, moody, and I miss my girl.

Scratch that. I have no girl.

In order to avoid thinking about Emery and the fact that we aren’t together anymore, I’ve been overworking myself and my team to the bone. So much so, that they officially banded together to form a mutiny and have refused to take on any more work until next year, and when this project ends next week, I won’t have anything to do until February.

I have no idea what I am going to do to keep busy at this point. As soon as I stop whatever I am doing, my mind drifts to her.

The last time I saw her still haunts my dreams.

It’s always the same. She’s standing there, with tears pouring down her cheeks, reaching for me as I walk away. When I turn back around, I find her in the arms of that blond douche, who kisses her. Without fail, I wake in a cold sweat and an ache in my chest.

When I’m not dreaming about her with him, I’m dreaming about her sweet naked body plastered to mine while I’m balls deep inside her as she comes, screaming my name.

Every. Fucking. Night. It’s always her. It’s always torture.

I know it’s a combination of the anger from being lied to and missing the woman I love. It all started after the way things went down in the bathroom. I haven’t felt right since then. Guilt gnaws at my insides for treating her the way I did.

“If you had answered one of my many calls or texts, or even listened to my voicemail…”

I’ve agonized over our conversation, but I’ve been too chicken-shit to unblock her and call her. I’m not even sure she’d talk to me at this point. I can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve picked up my phone and pulled up her contact, on the verge of unblocking her to listen to her voicemail, or the number of times I’ve wanted to pull up her credit card records to see what she’s been up to.

I only did that once, right after the Fourth. It didn’t give me any information, only that she was back in Pine Hills. Kenzo busted me while I was being a stalker. I was in a bad place, and I missed the fuck out of her. The devil on my shoulder got the better of me when I was alone in the conference room one night. I thought everyone had left, but he came back just as I was pulling her information up in our security program. He didn’t say anything to me, but the look of shock on his face shamed me from ever looking up her personal information again.

---