Mason curls me into the crook of his shoulder, and wraps his arm around me. His fingertips dance along the side of my hip. I place my hand flat against his chest.

“You didn’t warn me,” he says, gently.

My heart beat picks up speed. “I was embarrassed.”

The remnants of my lost virginity have marked his bedding, but this is the first Mason has spoken of it. Part of me hoped he’d just sweep it under the carpet, giving me no reason to explain why I’ve waited so long to be with a man like this.

Isn’t it enough to say that I’ve never met anyone special enough?

No, because it’s only part of the reason, and if Mason is even half as intuitive as I think, he’ll see straight through my efforts at avoidance.

Mason kisses the top of my head. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

I chew on my lower lip, debating on how much I want to share. “I had a serous boyfriend in college. We met freshman year.”

I close my eyes, picturing that moment, a clichéd “bumping into each other in the hall way” scene, in which his classic “let me carry your textbooks” offer immediately made us an item. We held hands, and sometimes kissed, and one night—before the hot tub fiasco that finally broke us up—he performed clumsy oral sex that resulted in me faking an orgasm just to get him to stop slobbering all over me.

“I wasn’t ready for sex,” I say, which only half the truth. Maybe if Jared had taken more time with my body, gotten to know my likes and needs…no. Not even then. If I’m being totally honest, I didn’t think I’d ever want sex, let alone crave it with the intensity I feel now.

After two earth shattering climaxes, I know it would take almost nothing for Mason to bring me to full arousal again. The realization is shocking.

Mason’s fingertips dance across my shoulder. “I bet you were quite the tease in college.”

My cheeks go warm. “Not intentionally.”

More like a knee-jerk reaction to my father’s affair. “My dad had infidelity issues.” Which is a massive understatement. “I’ll spare you the gory details, but as it turns out, he had this whole other family on the side. A mistress. A kid.” I swallow in an attempt to dislodge the bitter memories. “He was even living with them part time. Like, he took turns, telling each family that he had to go out of town for work. Quite a masterful storyteller.”

Mom wasn’t the only naïve one—the other woman believed his lies too—but when it came to making a choice, Dad left us. He chose his mistress. His other daughter.

Mason shifts on his side so we’re face to face. “That would have been a lot to handle for anyone.”

“More so for me,” I say, breathing out a slow breath. “Something Dad said once didn’t ring true, and my gut told me to investigate.” Mom’s little P.I. “I’m the one who uncovered his double life.”

Mason kisses my fingers and then puts his hand over mine. “That’s a brutal thing to find out.”

“My first instinct was to deny it,” I say, remembering the emotions that crashed over me then, and again through every stage of my parents’ messy and lengthy divorce. Dad wanted the quick and easy route—Mom drew out, hoping he’d come to his senses. She never fully healed. “I wasn’t even going to tell my mom. Just pretend like it didn’t exist. Anything to save her heart.

But then I met Renee, this precious baby girl. The little sister I’d dreamed of having. And I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let her be in the dark too. Something inside me snapped, and I pushed and pushed until finally, Dad relented. He copped to everything—the affair, Renee, the complicated web of his lies.

I wanted to be jealous of my sister. And I had every right to be, too. Everywhere I saw them, they held hands, shared hot chocolate, did all the father-daughter things Dad never bothered to do with me. My father never bought me a single doll, but Renee has a collection of Barbies.”

Which is part of the reason she got into fashion. When she couldn’t buy clothes for them, she made them. Tiny, perfect outfits that should have been showcased on the runway instead of tucked in a memory box filled with other things from the past.

“But you don’t hate your sister at all, do you?” Mason asks knowingly.

I allow a small smile. “Renee is my best friend. I don’t even think of her as my half-sister, I love her that much. But sometimes being with her is a bad reminder of what pigs men can be.” I drop my gaze. “Present company excluded. Dad didn’t just break Mom’s heart…” Though I’m still picking up the pieces of that emotional mess. “He broke mine too.”

Mason wraps his arm around my and pulls me close. “It will take time,” he says, softly. “But you’ll get whole again. Piece by piece.”

Mason means well, but my gut twists and I know that however much I want to believe what he says, I’m not convinced I’ll ever be fully able to trust another man.