“Shut up,” I snap when I hear Joey’s breathy laugh behind me.

It’s just because I need something to hold when I’m talking to Mason, otherwise I’ll reach for him, hold his face, try and slip my fingers through his hair and feel his soft curls.

There will be none of that happening.

I hastily exit the shop and cross the street. Peering through the large studio window, I can see a class is in session, but that doesn’t stop me from barging in with baked goods and a pissy attitude.

“We need to talk,” I exclaim, stopping just inside the door and glaring at the twenty-plus pairs of eyes on me. I focus in on one set in particular, crystal blue and softened with curiosity.

Mason steps between mats to see me better, his faded, sleeveless tee darkened with sweat. “Can you give me five minutes, Brooke?”

I look at him, at the crowd of women and their irritated expressions. With a quiet sigh, I slip past the elongated table covered in brochures and vitamin supplements and perch myself against the wall. I hold the box against my belly, letting my eyes wander the studio.

“Whatever.”

Class resumes. Mason goes through various positions and breathing techniques, offering assistance when some women struggle to hold a pose.

I reach into the box and bite into a strawberry ganache cupcake, smirking when a nosy chick in front of me scowls in my direction.

Fuck off, I think. You have no idea what that man is putting me through.

After the last attendee leaves and I swallow my last bite, Mason pulls the door closed behind him and stalks toward me. He tugs his shirt off with one hand and wipes it across his face.

“You wanted to talk?”

I take in his perfectly sculpted torso, from his lean hips to the muscles thickening his shoulders, every inch of him damp with perspiration.

“Yeah.” I set the box on the table and lick the frosting off my lip. “What the hell is your problem?”

His steps falter. “My problem?”

“Don’t do that.” I point a finger at him, advancing closer. “Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m not allowed to touch you? I can’t . . . do anything to you? Why not?”

“Brooke.” He tosses his shirt on the table, reaching for me.

I step back to avoid his touch. “Answer my question first.” He takes in a deep breath, and my next words slip out before I can stop them. “Is it me?”

Other women have touched him. Other women have done everything with him. Why can’t I?

His eyes widen and he closes the space between us. “No. Fuck no, it’s not you. Jesus. How can you think that?” He slides his hand to my hip, his eyes following his finger as he runs it along my jaw. “It’s overwhelming how you affect me. Can’t you see it? How I look at you? I’m a bloody wreck here, Brooke. I want to take my time with you, but fucking hell if I don’t want everything you were offering last night.”

“Then take it.” I squeeze his hips, pressing us closer.

Take me. Stop torturing yourself.

“I won’t be able to stop,” he confesses, bending to kiss the corner of my mouth. “I’m not a God, Brooke. I only have so much restraint, and you on your knees sucking my cock would smash it all to shit.”

“So you’re just going to jerk off alone after you leave me? Come on, Mason. That’s ridiculous. You could at least let me watch.”

A small laugh erupting past his lips has me pulling away and out of his reach.

“This isn’t funny,” I snap, turning my body when he tries to grab me again.

I need distance anyway. He’s half naked and those loose shorts he’s wearing do a piss poor job at concealing every perfect inch of him.

He slowly advances on me with his hands raised between us, with that cocky smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Are you not enjoying what I’m giving you, Brooke? Because if I’m remembering correctly, you seemed pretty fucking happy grinding that sweet pussy against my face last night. There’s pictures to prove it.”

Warmth surges between my hips. I narrow my eyes and silently curse my lower region for reacting to that reminder. “You know what? I’m going to go.”

His eyes snap up to mine. “Why?”

“Because I have work to do and you’re making my brain hurt.”

He grabs my waist before I can take a step. Pulling my back against his front, he drops his lips to my ear, whispering my name before he asks, “Are we still on for this weekend?”

I turn my head to look at him, biting my cheek to keep myself from reacting to the smug grin staring back at me. “I don’t know. Am I going to be allowed to touch you?”

“In a matter of speaking. I’m sure your hands will be in my hair while you beg me to make you come. That counts, yeah?”

With a grunt, I pry myself out of his arms and gesture at the box on the table as I stride past it. “I ate one of your cupcakes because you kept me up all night, and not in the way I wanted to be.”

“You kept me up too. Fucking that pretty little mouth was one hell of a visual. I came all over my sheets.”

My mouth falls open. I nearly face-plant . . . again. Bastard.

“Yeah? Well, it’s too bad I wasn’t there to lick it all up for you. Good luck getting those stains out.”

I push through the door with the biggest smile on my face.

Have fun with that visual.

I stare into the darkness of my bedroom, pulling the covers up around me when the AC kicks on.

It’s almost eleven, and I could be asleep. I should be. God knows I’m exhausted but I can’t seem to close my eyes yet.

The condo is quiet. Joey and Billy have no doubt gone off to bed by now. I stretch my legs against the cool sheets before flipping onto my stomach and attempting to shut down in this position. Within a few seconds I’m turning back over and flopping my head against the pillow.

A soft buzzing sound pulls my attention off the window. I throw myself out of bed and grab my phone out of my purse.

Mason . . . facetiming me? How does this even work? Oddly enough, I’ve had this phone for two years and have never used this feature before.

I accept the call and hold the phone above me as I settle back against the sheet. I glance briefly at the image of myself in the corner.

Good. I don’t look too rough. God knows I feel it.

Mason’s neck appears first, bathed in the soft light from a nearby source. He tilts the phone and smiles when he sees my face staring back at him.

“Little devil. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

I smirk at the nickname. “No. I’m actually having trouble winding down. I blame you for that.”

“Yeah? Am I on your mind?” He adjusts the pillow under his head as his eyes shift about ever so slightly. “You look pretty.”

I look at the tiny image of myself again. “Thanks.”

“Do you know why I’m calling you like this?”

“Because you’re a stalker and you needed a way to see my bedroom? You know, since you refuse to step in it.”

He laughs, low and deep in his throat. I feel myself smile and the haze of drowsiness slipping away.

“Brooke.”

“Mm.”

“You wanted to watch me, yeah?”

“Watch you . . .” I pause, my hand tightening around the hard case of my phone as realization shocks my body into full-on alertness. “Yes,” I reply through a quiet voice, running my tongue over my bottom lip and sitting up a little higher in bed.

On the screen, I watch desire pass over Mason’s face. His heavy breathing spills through the phone and out around me.

My toes curl against the sheet.

“Are you doing it?” I ask, although I already know the answer. I just want to hear him say . . .

“Yeah.” He jerks his chin, lips parted and eyes heavy. He shifts the phone away just enough for me to see the muscles rolling in his upper arm.

My breath catches in my throat. “God,” I exhale on a shaky breath.