“I’m not sure, Nina. This key looks new, and the lock is ancient.” He shrugs, trying the door again before bending and looking through the keyhole.
I pout, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ve been looking all afternoon! I’m giving up. If it doesn’t turn up by next week, I’m going to need you to put those muscles to good use and break the door down.” I squeeze his solid bicep.
“I’ve got some time now, so I’ll see if I can find it. The staff room is desperate for a tidy up anyway,” he offers.
“Thanks, Logan, you’re a lifesaver.” I push up on my tiptoes to peck his cheek before I turn and disappear into the studio to get my bag.
“Hey! There’s a guy asking for you downstairs. Said his name is Mason, got riled up when I told him he couldn’t come up here,” he calls from the doorway.
“Mason? He’s downstairs?” A flare of panic spreads through me.
“Sure is. Got a right chip on his shoulder that one. Want me to get rid of him?” he says, puffing out his chest.
God no, which is exactly why I should say yes.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, thoughts of Mason Lowell in his suit consuming me. Hmmm delicious. Then sans the suit. Yep, even more delicious. I never knew I had such a fantastic imagination until now.
“No. It’s fine, thanks, Logan. I’ll see you Friday. Henry’s in tomorrow, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, if I find the key, I’ll leave it in the safe,” he calls out as I make my way around the studio, tidying up in a rush.
I stop at the mirror to make sure I look semi-presentable—not that I care—and my face screws up instantly. I mean, it’s not great, but it isn’t bad either. My hair is letting me down massively, sitting in a heap high on my head, tuffs poking out all over the place. I can’t dance with it in my face, and there’s just so much of it.
I pull my hairband out, fluffing it over my shoulders, trying to flatten it down and resolving to the fact that it will have to do. Then I grab my bag and take off down the stairs.
In my head, I’d walk down the stairs, take a moment to seek him out—find him first. The studio is my territory, after all. Unfortunately, I don’t get that luxury, and I’m caught completely off guard by him, which is ridiculous because I knew he was here.
He stands at the bottom of the steps, waiting for me. His jaw taut, and lips pressed together. His brows pulled low. I want this man angry all the time. I mean, I have seen his smile. It’s breathtaking.
But angry Mase is fucking fire. I want to douse myself in petrol and climb him like a tree.
I pull my top lip between my teeth to try and stop my smile, my walls slowly crumbling.
How am I supposed to resist this man?
“Mr Lowell, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I can’t hold it in any longer, a smile splitting my face.
He seems taken aback by my mood. “Uh, I just wanted to see if you needed a lift home,” he stutters.
“Oh, yes, please,” I say sweetly.
He looks at me completely and utterly confused. “You do? You want a lift home? With me?” He frowns, his pointer finger nestled between his solid pecs.
I think I’ve broken him.
“Is Vinny here?” I ask.
“Yes, he’s around the back,” he admits.
“Around the back.” I nod, surprised that he went to so much trouble to scope the place out. And why around the back? Was he preparing for me to run?
I take the last step, standing tall as I look up at him through my lashes. “I think I will go with Vinny today. If you don’t mind?”
His jaw tightens. He doesn’t argue, but I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I’ll walk you out,” he grumbles, letting me go first as he follows closely behind as I walk down the narrow hall.
I’m almost at the door when I feel his hands snake around my waist, his warm fingers flexing against the exposed flesh between my leggings and crop top. He turns me, pinning me against the door, his knee pressing roughly at the apex of my thighs. My clit throbs as he looks down at me, gently bringing his forehead to rest against mine.
His hands skim me, waist to hips, holding me in place, and all I can think is how good he feels pushed up against me.
