I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.
“Take off my shirt.”
Yep, definitely didn’t like it.
I stared at the black buttons on his shirt that seemed to get bigger every time his chest expanded. The voice in my head mingled with the fresh citrus scent filling my nostrils. Every breath Mason took brought a new taunt.
Inhale.
Come on.
Exhale.
Just pop one open.
Inhale.
You know you want to.
“I can’t.”
Mason Kessler was a sculpted god with dark hair, and I was just a sad little girl who wanted to hide from the world. It hurt to look at him. How was I supposed to touch him?
“Is there a problem?” Mason tipped his head and narrowed his glare. “You don’t seem to have an issue putting your hands on someone else.”
My nose scrunched up.
What was he talking about? I’d never put my hands on anyone, which I would’ve pointed out if he didn’t look so angry. His scowl was so embedded that the lines on his forehead darkened his entire face, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers pressed down, digging into the mattress.
“Are you fucking deaf!” Mason barked. “Take my goddamn shirt off!”
My hands shot out, going for his shirt. It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to pop a button through a hole. My shaky fingers kept jerking away. Mason’s impatient huffs weren’t helping any. But after a few attempts, I finally managed to pop the first one open. I worked my way down to the second and third. By the time I got to the last one, pushing that small round button open was as easy as pie. I clicked it through the fabric with confidence and pride.
Then his shirt fell open and once again I was trapped in red light mode.
Nothing in my life was more intimidating than those solid planes of tanned skin. I wanted to bypass the chiselled lines in Mason’s torso and curl up with the broken bunny over his heart. Even the six pack in his abdomen was clearly visible, despite the fact that he was sitting down.
Would he notice if I slowly backed away?
“My shirt’s still on, Freckles.”
Guess so.
“Um…” My eyes swung from one broad shoulder to the other, trying to figure out how to carefully remove the fabric from his frame. I wanted to touch him – my hands were twitching at the thought of gliding over his smooth skin – but I couldn’t make my arms move.
“Fuck this,” Mason growled while snatching a handful of my hair. “If you won’t touch me, then I’ll touch you.”
I slapped my hands down on his chest and cried out, “No…”
One word was as far as I got. My mind checked out the second my palms made contact.Oh my.He really was as firm as he looked. And warm, and smooth. Did he always smell this good? Because I couldn’t get enough of it. I wanted to soak up every inch of him.
Leaning in, I slid my hands down to the firm ridges of Mason’s six pack. I didn’t care about the fist tugging on my scalp, or the nose running up the side of my neck. I kind of liked the tingle it caused to shoot up my thighs. That was nothing compared to the primal grunt Mason breathed across the shell of my ear.
A shiver wracked through my body when his tongue laved a hot wet trail up the column of my throat. “I should fuck you right now.”
The very thought of him trying to put that thing inside me made me whimper. Yet I couldn’t pull my hands away. It felt nice to be this close to someone. Was I so starved for affection that I’d take it from anyone? Including him.
This was wrong.
