Page 59 of The Masks We Break

I pull her into my chest, turning off the stove’s burner before wrapping my arms around her. She presses her head into my shoulder while a silent sob works its way through her body. We’ve never talked much about her father, but I already want to shield her from him. Keep her from ever enduring something so petty and hurtful ever again.

Anger simmers in my gut. It’s deep-seated as a new thought makes sense of her reactions.

I grip her face, forcing her eyes to look at me. They are barely visible, glistening under a fresh wall of tears. It tugs a muscle in my sternum, but I push it back, focusing on her.

“Does he hurt you physically?”

She shakes her head, loosening the hold on my lungs, allowing me to breathe a little easier, but then shrugs. “I mean. H-he’s let his anger get the better of him a few times, but other than a slap—which is rare, he...”

“You’ll never be alone with him again.” My vision is narrow, a red film seeping through at the corners. I don’t give a single fuck that he’s her father. It’s either that, or if he makes the mistake of touching her again, I’ll ruin him.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t argue and instead wipes the other side of her face. “I don’t plan on it.”

I lift her chin, kissing her tender mouth softly. “Good girl.”

She smiles, pressing her lips against me, letting her tongue slip out, and dance with mine. My fingers thread through her hair, freeing her ponytail and tangling my hand in her strands.

Her kiss isn’t soft and tentative. It’s demanding and needy. Her nails scrape at my back, tugging me closer even though my body is flush against her. My pulse picks up pace, darting through my ears and shooting south, driving my dick to a painful length. It throbs in my sweats, pressing just below her belly button.

Her moans spill into my mouth, and I greedily breathe them in, intoxicated with her sounds. Everything becomes foggy—a curtain of lust covering logic.

I shouldn’t do this, but I need it, and she needs me. In this moment, it’s all that matters. I think it again when I lift her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around my waist before I move.

Walking us toward my bedroom, I continue to steal her gasps. When we finally make it inside, I ease her down my body, reveling in the way shivers work through her as she slides over my dick.

I sit down at the edge of the bed, and Remy takes a step toward me but I shake my head. Since the first time I’ve touched her, I’ve been a softer version of myself, easing her into my likes and enjoying watching her adapt so naturally. But that wasn’t sex. And I’ve wanted Remy beneath me for too many years to continue holding back.

“Remy, I need you to know my tas—”

“I know,” she rasps, her hooded gaze trailing down my body as if I’m the one on the menu and she plans to devour me. It sends a foreign sensation through my blood, making my palms itch.

I shake my head again. “No. You may think you have an idea, but you don’t. We need to talk, because the things I plan to do to you…” My voice trails off as I return her gaze, undressing her with my eyes.

“Mango,” she rushes out. “A word I’ll use if whatever it is, is too much.”

My brows furrow as I look at her face to see a smirk painting her mouth. Her quick acclimation is just one of many that proves it’s always the quiet, bookish ones, that are the most fun in bed.

I nod. “Mango. Now, I need you to undress for me.”

Her eyes flare, the rise and fall of her chest increasing, but like the good girl that she is, she obeys. Delicate little fingers tease the bottom of her oversized shirt before tugging it over her head in one swift motion. She then slides off her sweat shorts too quickly. I open my mouth to tell her to slow down, but stop.

My pulse shudders, a sudden flush of warmth making my body shake. I’ve seen pieces of her body, but never like this—fully exposed and on display for me to drink in. And I do just that.

She has the literal definition of an hourglass shape. Her perky breasts, a little more thanmyhandful, are perfect. The nipples are pink and pebbled, begging for me to clamp onto them. Thinking of her writhing beneath me when I nipped them before makes my mouth water as my eyes trail down to her small waist, noting the few dark freckles that highlight her cinched core. But it’s her wide hips and thick thighs that are my favorite.

I swallow down the anticipation swelling in my throat and stand, taking a step toward her. “Now, undress me.”

She sucks in air, her eyes widening as she whispers. “Yes, sir.”

This time she moves too damn slow, her fingers tracing the hem of my shirt, burning the skin underneath with her touch. But just as a low growl sounds from the back of my throat, she lifts, and I help, slipping the shirt off. She lets her eyes scan over my chest before hooking her finger into my pants and yanking them down.

My dick springs free, and I almost smile at her audible gulp. Her eyes inspect my length under a fan of dark lashes.

“Come here, puppet.”

She stands immediately. I grip her by the waist and turn us around, tossing her lightly on to the bed, loving the way her amber skin stands out against my dark comforter.

I climb on top, hovering over her, letting my eyes examine her face. “You are painfully beautiful.”

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