He lifts his hips, entering me on one swift thrust.
* * *
The light smellof smoke wakes me in the early hours, and I roll into the body beside me, not fully comprehending the smell.
He is so warm, so solid. It makes me feel safe.
But I can smell smoke, and I’m hungry. Really flipping hungry. The growl of my stomach has my legs untangling from Mason’s and carrying me from the bedroom.
We got a little carried away last night, completely giving up on our date by nine. I should feel bad, but I don’t. He should have let me go home and get myself ready.
Maybe I wouldn’t have freaked out.
I sneak from the room and start down the curved staircase, my feet coming to an abrupt halt halfway down. My breath catches in my throat as my heart somehow slows and speeds up within the same beat.
The entire ground floor is lit in candlelight, every surface littered with a warm glow that mirrors the London skyline beyond. Slowly, I descend the final steps, trying not to think about the man lying in bed upstairs.
Instead, I try to see the room as only an observer and not the recipient of such a beautiful, thoughtful gesture.This isn’t for me. The dining table is set for two, champagne on what would have been ice bobs in the chilled water. An extravagant bunch of white roses sits in an arrangement in the centre. I can smell them mixed with the smoke from neglected candles.
I notice a square box sitting on one of the place settings.This isn’t for me. Then it’s in my hand. The lid popped open before I can even think twice about it.
The most beautiful gold bangle sits on a cushioned ring. It’s simple, with just one lone diamond sparkling at the clasp. It’s stunning, personal, and something I’d buy for myself.
I glance in the direction of the stairs, unable to keep him out any longer. He consumes me in every way imaginable. My thoughts, actions, even my body. He shouldn’t be the driving force behind my decisions, but he’s becoming something my head cowers to and my heart craves.
I snap the box closed, placing it back on the place setting and walk to the lounge area.
Scattered pillows surround a tray of strawberries, chocolate, and roses. Regret gnaws at me. God, I was such a bitch before, moaning about him buying me gifts. It may be over the top, but he wanted to do this for me.
My stomach growls again, reminding me it needs feeding. Feeling like a child who might get caught, I sit on the cushioned floor, my back to the sofa as I inhale the plate of strawberries.
I don’t hear him at first, but when I spot his feet beside me from the corner of my eye, I start to savour the strawberry in my hand—accentuating every delicious bite, letting the juice run from my lips.
Simply because I choose heart. I choose chocolate-covered strawberries. I choose the man who wants to give me his time. I choose Mason Lowell. At least for tonight.
I plant my knees in front of him as he stands gloriously naked, looking down on me. My body stirs with arousal at the dark look in his eyes.
“Were we even going to go out tonight?” I ask.
His hands cup my jaw as he bends, licking up my chin and into my mouth, sucking my lip hard before righting himself again.
I take that as a no.
My tongue darts out, finding the remnants of strawberries, and I pull my lip into my mouth, sucking all the sweetness I can from them.
His cock twitches in appreciation, precum leaking from the tip.
“I’m not sure strawberries and salt mix,” I say, looking up through my lashes and his muscular body ripples under my lustful stare.
He doesn’t answer me, fisting his length at the base and dragging the tip across my mouth, painting my lips with his excitement.
I roll them, resisting the urge to lick his taste from them. “Mase, speak to me.”
“I am,” he says, grasping my chin and pushing the head of his cock against my teeth. “I want you to open up for me.”
His words stab me in the gut.
He wants me to open up for him.
