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“I’m here,” he whispered, wrapping her up in his embrace again. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this alone.”
That was the thing, though. She’d always done this alone. Oh, her granny took her in and patiently waited for Addison to feel safe enough to start dismantling the walls she’d built around herself. Shared her passion for art, and nurtured Addison’s newfound obsession with cooking. Got her a nightlight when she screamed and cried in her bedroom at night.
But she never asked why the darkness terrified her so.
Others had loved and been there for her in one way or another in the last thirty years. Kate, who had been her best friend since seventh grade. The few other friends from her school days she still texted or met up with now and again. She even connected with a couple people from the restaurants she worked in before the café—friendships forged in fire. And of course, Lola.
Nearly all had asked why her grandmother raised her and not her parents, but they all seemed genuinely relieved when she changed the subject. They clearly asked because it was the polite thing to do, but knew they were better off not knowing all the gritty details.
Mason wouldn’t be any different. Why on earth would he? He didn’t even like her outside of what she could provide for him sexually. She had a feeling this would be the last weekend he invited her to his house.
God, she really hated herself sometimes. Couldn’t she have one good thing in her life without somehow fucking it up?
Sitting up, she scooted awkwardly to the edge of the mattress. Her clothes would be nice, but she didn’t even know where in the house she was anymore—only that it was clearly his bedroom. Keeping her back to him, she searched for the appropriate thing to say. “Well, uh, thank you. For, you know...helping me.”
She cringed. Could she have sounded more idiotic? Thank God he couldn’t see her face, because her blush made everything even worse.
Her only choice was to plow on ahead. “Anyway, I don’t know if you’re done with me now, or if you still want to fuck, or what. Just let me know what’s good for you. I’m fine with whatever.” It came out in the same tone she’d use to order fast food at a drive through.
Mason stayed silent for so long, she finally risked a glance over her shoulder. He sat propped against the headboard, watching her with slightly narrowed eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line.
She considered the best expression for a moment, ultimately going with mild confusion. “What?” she asked, keeping her voice light.
“I don’t know what you’re doing right now,” he answered slowly, the line between his brows deepening. “But I don’t like it.”
Yeah, she was done. Reaching up, she fiddled with the buckle on the collar until she got it loose. “I’m ready to go home.”
Dropping the collar on the bed, she stood and went to search for her clothes, using every last ounce of her strength to keep her spine straight until she passed out of his sight.
Mistakes were made.
Not that Addison would admit that to anyone but herself.
For the last five days, she’d been kicking herself for screwing everything up on Saturday. Would it really have been that hard to give him a teeny tiny little glimpse into her past? It wouldn’t have taken much—just enough vague info to understand what happened with the blindfold so they could get back to the fucking.
God, the weekend she could’ve had. Her body pined for those lost spankings and orgasms. Straight-up fucking pined for them. Like the wife of a sailor when her husband went off to sea for two years.
How absurdly dramatic.
Clenching her thighs together, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She had a date with her vibrator the second she got up to her room after this shift.
“You okay, Addison?”
She opened her eyes to find Kendra watching her with a furrowed brow. The junior member of the breakfast and lunch staff had enthusiastically welcomed Addison to the kitchen. She delighted in no longer being the only woman around in the mornings.
Addison liked the younger woman. A lot, in fact. It would be a while before their friendship hit a talk-about-how-you-wish-you-fucked-your-boss-more-this-weekend level, though. “I think I feel a migraine coming on,” she lied. “I’ll probably go lie down as soon as I finish this cake.”
“Ugh, migraines are the worst.” Every inch of her screamed genuine sympathy, from her eyes to her posture to her clenched hands. “Do you want me to finish it for you?”
“That’s so sweet,” Addison said with a grateful smile. “But I’m almost done. They’ll start coming down for lunch soon, and I’m sure you’ve got enough on your plate as it is.”
Kendra looked like she wanted to object, but Luca said, “If you leave your dishes by the washing station, Kendra can take care of them after lunch if she wants. Right now, I really need her back over here before something burns.”
Wishing she’d picked a different lie, Addison made a shooing motion. “Go. I promise I’m fine.”
“Okay.” With a reluctant frown, Kendra turned back toward the stove. “Seriously, though, leave your dishes,” she called over her shoulder. “I owe you one anyway for making that focaccia for me yesterday.”
Addison had to repress a laugh. “That’s literally my job.”
