No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 93

**My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom**

**Chapter 93: Why Are You Kissing Me?**

The moment hung in the air, heavy and charged, as Mason reached out and pulled the trembling girl back into his embrace. There was no room for protest, no space for her to voice any objections.

He was acutely aware that this night would test him, pushing the boundaries of his resolve.

Yet, in the grand scheme of things, this moment paled in comparison to the years he had spent watching her languish in an unhappy marriage, trapped in a gilded cage, unable to break free. Tonight was merely a flicker of discomfort against the backdrop of her prolonged suffering.

As dawn broke, Amelia stirred awake, the bright sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains. She squinted against the light, her gaze landing on a ceiling that felt foreign to her, and the simple gray drapes that framed the window.

For a fleeting moment, her mind was a blank slate, devoid of memories, but then everything came rushing back in a tumultuous wave. The events of the previous night crashed over her like a relentless tide—drugged and disoriented, she had fled from the villa. It was Mason who had found her, Mason who had brought her back to safety.

In an instant, she shot upright, the sheets tangled around her like a cocoon, a testament to her struggles against the drug’s effects. The blanket lay in disarray, pillows scattered, evidence of her turmoil during the night.

Amelia glanced around the room, taking in its stark decor—sharp lines of black, white, and gray, devoid of any embellishments. The space was meticulously organized, cold and precise, echoing the very essence of Mason himself.

But she didn’t dwell on those thoughts. It didn’t even register that she was not in a guest room, but rather in Mason’s personal sanctuary.

After a quick wash, she dressed in the clean clothes she found nearby and plugged in her lifeless phone, hoping for some semblance of connection to the outside world.

With her heart racing like a wild drum, she stepped out of the room, each footfall echoing her uncertainty.

As she reached the top of the staircase, she caught sight of him. Mason was settled on the couch in the living room below, cradling a cup of coffee between his hands, his demeanor calm yet commanding.

A wave of guilt washed over her for reasons she couldn’t quite grasp.

He sensed her presence, his voice cutting through the silence without him even glancing back. “Come down.”

Amelia descended the stairs with a sense of trepidation, each step feeling heavier than the last. She took a seat in the chair opposite him, her posture rigid, as if awaiting a verdict from a judge.

Mason set his coffee down, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

“What happened last night?” he asked, his tone direct and unwavering.

Amelia’s fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of her shirt, seeking comfort in the familiar texture.

She avoided his penetrating gaze, scrambling for the flimsiest excuse that sprang to mind. “Nothing. I was at a friend’s party and accidentally drank too much.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Mason stood up, his movements fluid and swift.

Before she could process his sudden shift, he had crossed the room in a few long strides, leaning down to cage her in with both hands resting on the arms of the couch. His presence enveloped her, sharp and overpowering, leaving her breathless.

Their faces were mere inches apart, the air thick with tension.

Amelia could feel the icy glint in his eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth she once knew.

“Amelia,” he spoke slowly, his voice low and edged with danger, “have I not warned you against lying to me?”

The man sitting across from her was a cold-hearted CEO, calm and distant, revered by many.

His assistance felt like an obligation rooted in a past connection that had faded over time—more courtesy than genuine care.

In the presence of someone who only viewed her with pity, the thought of exposing her failures felt like peeling back her skin, revealing her rawest wounds for him to scrutinize.

So, she opted for the safest route. Turning her head away, she evaded the gaze that seemed to penetrate her very soul. “You wouldn’t understand. Relationships are complicated.”

“Is that so?” Mason scoffed, a cold snort escaping him, his eyes sharp enough to cut through her defenses.

He didn’t retreat; instead, he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against her cheek, igniting a spark of awareness. “Then tell me,” he murmured, “how do you plan to explain kissing me last night?”

“What?” Amelia’s mind went blank, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

She whipped her head around, her wide, shocked eyes meeting his. “There was that too?!”

Mason’s lips curled into a slow, icy smile, clearly amused by her flustered reaction. “You said it yourself. You were drugged.”

A cold sweat trickled down her back, panic surging within her.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for any memory of the previous night, but it was like grasping at smoke—elusive and intangible.

In a moment of sheer desperation, she blurted out the only thing her racing thoughts could conjure. “But you’re my brother! Why didn’t you stop me?”