LINES CROSSED. (BWWM)

Amina

I was back in my room trying desperately to fall asleep.

The sheets felt too hot.

Or maybe it was me.

No matter how many times I turned over, adjusted my pillow, or flipped my comforter back, sleep wasn't coming. Not with my heart still racing, my thighs still tingling, and my mind trapped in a loop of what had just happened.

I stared at the ceiling, the darkness pressing in around me, heavy and stifling. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him again—his hands gripping my hips, his mouth on my skin, the weight of him beneath me. The way I came undone in his lap like I didn't know how to hold myself back.

What the hell was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking. That was the problem.

Now all I could do was overthink.

Would this ruin everything?
Would he look at me differently now?
Would I have to move out?

The thought made my chest ache. I wasn't ready to lose what we had, even if it was complicated. Even if I wanted more.

I groaned and sat up, running my hands over my face. This wasn't me. I wasn't the girl who let desire cloud her judgment and then just... hoped it would blow over.

I had to face it. Face him.

I slid out of bed, the floor cool beneath my feet. The hallway was dim, quiet. I padded to his door and stood there for a moment, listening.

Then I knocked softly.

"Mason?" I called, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," he replied after a beat. His voice was low and raspy.

I opened the door slowly, and there he was—lying back against a mound of pillows, shirtless, the glow from his phone lighting up his face and chest in soft gold. His curls were slightly tousled like he'd been running his fingers through them. He looked tired. And sexy as hell.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted, hovering awkwardly at the door. "We should talk."

He sat up a little, setting his phone aside. "About what happened downstairs?"

I nodded and stepped inside. "Yeah. Look, I—I think we should forget about it. I wasn't thinking straight. It was late, and I—"

"That's gonna be hard to forget, Amina." His voice was quiet, but firm. "You were on top of me."

I swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. "I know. But it doesn't have to mean anything. We were just caught up."

He exhaled, a slow sound that filled the silence between us. Then his eyes lifted to mine.

"I saw you earlier."

My breath caught. "What?"

"When I got back from work," he said. "You didn't hear me come in. I saw you... in the guest room. Touching yourself."

My heart nearly stopped. Heat exploded in my chest and climbed all the way up my neck.

"You—what?" My voice cracked with disbelief and embarrassment.

He stood now, slow and deliberate, the comforter falling from his lap as he got out of bed. "I wasn't trying to. I just... froze. You were moaning my name, Amina."

My legs went weak.

I didn't know what to say—what to do.

He crossed the room, stopping just in front of me. "That's why it was never just heat of the moment. You've been thinking about me... like that."