“Fuck,” he whispers near my ear, his voice breaking. His head leans on my shoulder and I reach back, gliding my shaky hand up his thick firm thigh, over his ass and bringing it up behind me to his head. Pulling at his hair, I angle my head and bring his up closer to mine. We’re nose to nose, body against body, and breathing so rapidly it’s like we’ve both just run a marathon.

“We shouldn’t do this.” I whisper, staring into his lust-filled eyes. We both know we shouldn’t. I can’t do it, not now. He wants too much, I don’t want enough. It’s too risky, too dangerous. What if one night ruins it all? What if after, my body and my heart want more? If once isn’t enough, denying him again will be so much harder. His job, my job, if our worlds collide, it’ll be one fucked-up mess we’ll never survive.

He shakes his head and rolls swiftly over on top of me, pushing me on my back. “Didn’t plan this when I came in here, Linds. But I sure as fuck don’t want to stop now, not now that I know you want it too.” His lips crash to mine, his tongue searching for an opening. My lips part and his tongue slips inside, caressing my own in one powerful kiss, so gentle and long, so passionate. Pulling him closer, he deepens the connection and his hand trails down, fingering the edge of my panties.

“Stop.” I break the moment, panting heavily. “I can’t give you what you want, Mason.”

His eyes reach into mine and my heart pumps harder. He wants the unattainable.

He scoops the side of my face in his hand, brushing his thumb back and forth. The movement is so intimately sweet that my fingers twitch to cover my own hand with his. He makes resisting him so much harder by simply being him. “You can come up with whatever excuse you want, Lindsey. But that’s all they are, excuses. You’ll run out of them at some stage, and I’ll be here waiting when you do.”

I can’t speak. My lips seal shut. Mason rolls off me, enveloping me in his arms as he moves.

Spooning me in my bed, I ignore everything else. I shut off my mind, shut out the world. Closing my eyes, I sink into nirvana, hoping to avoid this inconceivable feeling tearing me in two. I’m conflicted by the comfort of his arms: I’ve never felt so safe, yet stripped bare, all at the same time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lindsey

Life is moving in the fast lane and instead of taking out first place, I can’t seem to do a goddamn thing to catch up. I’m falling behind, eating the dust this world is spitting back at me.

Warmth coils around me and I snuggle in closer. Hot breath on my neck shoots my eyes wide open. Shit, he’s still here. His heavy arm tightens around my waist when I try to move. It’s the middle of winter yet I’ve never felt warmer. Sensibility seeps through the window with the morning sun and I twist my neck around and find Mason still asleep. Slowly, trying not to disturb him, I pad over to the bathroom and close the door. I need a shower, a cold one, and I need to get to work, a safe distance away from Mason and his wandering hands.

The hot spray trickles down my forehead and I close my eyes, berating myself for allowing him to crawl into bed with me in the middle of the night. Frustrated at my own lapse in judgement I quickly scrub myself clean and get out.

“Morning.” A raspy voice echoes through the steam from the heat of the shower and I jump from surprise, nearly slipping butt naked on the tiles.

“Jesus, Mason, what the hell? Have you been in here the whole time?” I snatch my towel off the rack and wrap it around myself, concealing my naked body.

Fantastic, I’m a sopping wet mess in front of a man who looks gorgeous even straight out of bed. Ugh, of course.

Mason shrugs, checking me out from head to toe, stopping for a second longer at my breasts. “Not the whole time.”

I grab my hair towel and dry off the dripping ends of my hair. “Good or you would have leveled up to creeper status.”

He puts his hands up in front of himself palms facing me. “Just came in to see if you’d like to have a quick breakfast with me before work. I’ve got a little time before I have to take Charlotte to school.”

My hands stop squeezing the water out of my hair and I turn to Mason, surprised that after how last night ended, he’s going to make another play so soon.

“Like a date?” I question.

“Yes, like a date. People go on those occasionally.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I pin him with a glare. “No.”

Mason stalks over to me, grabbing the towel from between my hands. I think he’s about to throw it away, but instead, he takes over drying my hair. God, he makes this so hard.

With my hands limp by my side, I let him continue massaging my head. “Why would you want to do that? I told you no last night. I’m not going to strip my towel off and get on my knees for you, Mase, just because we’ve sort-of become friends.” I bring my hands to my hips. “And just for the record, climbing into my bed in the middle of night while I’m sleeping was a sneaky move.”

He chuckles. “Sweetheart, you never stopped me until you realized there was a chance I might’ve actually got you. You’re the one who backed your ass into me, not the other way around. But okay, have it your way.”

He spins around walking back into the bedroom. “Breakfast, Linds, you’ve got five minutes before I come back in there and grab your ass out.”

I stand, mouth hanging open. What the fuck just happened?

***

The ding of the elevator sounds and I step out into the main foyer of Davenport & Jenkins Publications. The familiar voices of employees and the smell of coffee greet me, easing me into my comfort zone. Smiling at staff as I pass by, I make my way toward my office.

My assistant’s desk comes into view and there she sits, a woman at least four years my junior, a woman who would love to take my job from me as much as she enjoys taking it in the ass from Oliver. Yeah, it’s happened, more than once.

“Morning, Peyton, any messages this morning?”

With her usual over-the-top cheerfulness, she smiles at me and I internally grimace. “Good morning, Miss Jenkins. And yes, you had a call earlier but Mr. Davenport handled it so not to worry.” She waves a hand in front of her, nonchalantly.

I double take. No one takes calls for me, not even Oliver.

Confusion must be plastered all over my face because Peyton goes on to explain herself. “A Mr. Rossi called for you earlier this morning about a business meeting, but I had already checked your schedule,” She trails off, eyes searching the computer screen in front of her. “As I told him, you have nothing booked in today for anyone with that name.”

Every muscle in my body freezes. What the fuck? He knows better than to call me here.

I cut Peyton off, marching down the hall wondering why the hell Enzo Rossi called my fucking office. “Thanks, Peyton!” I call back, hoping she hears.

Passing the office cubicles taking up the majority of the room, I see the closed wooden door with Oliver Davenport written in print and head inside without knocking. With his back to the door, Olly stands facing the window, hands in his pockets.

“Why in the hell did Enzo Rossi call here this morning?” I demand.

Oliver turns around. “Well, good morning to you too.” I put my hands on my hips and widen my eyes, too wired with curiosity to pretend I actually have any patience. “Well?”

Sighing, Oliver undoes the button on his suit jacket and sits down in his office chair.

“I took the call so Peyton wouldn’t find out about her boss’s extra-curricular activities. I saved both our asses so you really should be thanking me, not interrogating me, for starters. But shit, Lindsey, we’re fucking lucky I walked past her desk when I did.”