Page 59 of Word to the Wise

“Sorry.” I take a step back, realizing that I might be taking it a little too far, and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

“What are you sorry for, Mason?”

“I could flirt with you all night, but I should wait until you’re ready.”

Reed bites her lower lip, watching me. “What if I’m ready now?”

That question might fucking kill me, but I keep it together.

“Are you?”

“Yeah.” She wets her lips. “I’m a mess though. A complete disaster. And I’m not over my ex, so I don’t even know what I can offer you.”

“I’m not a pretty picture myself.”

Her gaze skims me from head to toe, and I don’t mind the blush that paints her cheeks when she meets my eyes. “You look fine to me.”

“Is that so?” I take a step closer, and she meets me with one of her own.

“Do you want me, Mason?”

“Yes.” More than I want another day on this earth.

Reed takes one more step, looking up at me with the most sinful innocence. “Then show me how much.”

19

Reed

I don’t know whatI’m offering Mason as I stand in front of him or why he’d take me up on it.

We’re both so broken, neither of us has much to offer the other. But after he bared his secrets to me—setting them between us and allowing me the choice to do what I want with that information—I couldn’t deny what I’ve been trying to ignore these past couple of months.

Mason isn’t like the men I was surrounded by growing up. He isn’t my brother. And he isn’t Carter.

He’s a man who shields those around him with his whole heart, to the point where their pain becomes his own failings. For the first time, I look into his eyes, and I understand why he doesn’t entertain relationships. His fear of failing someone else he cares about is immense after the loss of his sister.

He doesn’t trust himself to allow someone to get close.

But I don’t fear it. I don’t fearhim.

Mason reaches up and brushes my hair off my face. His fingers trail my cheek down to my jaw. He traces my throat like he’s making art. Finding beauty in things that I’ve stopped seeing as pretty years ago.

He touches me like he’s healing me. Like he’s the first man to see all my good and bad and want me anyway.

For six years, I’ve been looked over. Held at a man’s side to be his trophy or used as an outlet for his aggression. But I haven’t been heard or seen in so long that I forgot what it feels like.

As Mason’s gaze falls to my mouth, I want him to show me I’m not as weak as I’ve been feeling. I want him to show me I’m worth more than I’ve been giving myself credit for.

Trust.

I hand it to him without an ounce of hesitation.

Asking—hoping—he’ll take me up on it.

“You’re testing me, Sticks. I’ve been good, and it hasn’t been easy.” He traces his thumb over my lower lip. “You can’t give me permission like that. I’m not that fucking strong, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You aren’t.” I grab his wrist, pausing his hand where he’s holding my jaw. “You make me feel like I’m worth something again. You don’t treat me like I’m broken or I’m fragile. I want to feel that.I need to feel that.Maybe I’m the one using you.”

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