Page 10 of Mason

I blink, as if to reset the direction of my naughty thoughts. Just the word “skin” ignites a fire in my belly that makes me want to reach out and touch his, to run my fingers along his sinewy muscles. The tension intensifies, almost blinding. I should shrivel in nervousness, but instead, I’m empowered by the way he stares at me. Like he could swallow me with one gulp.

“If the position is still available, I’d like to accept.”

He gives me a wolfish grin. “May I ask why the change of heart?”

I bite on my lower lip. Mason Wood expects complete honesty, but I’m not ready to admit the truth—that I’m totally desperate, facing the abyss of professional and financial ruin. I lower my gaze. “After some careful thought, I realize that a job at Daylight Holdings is an excellent opportunity to eventually further my career.”

Mason nods. “Good. I’m prepared to re-offer you the position…”

My relief begins to unravel.

“But the conditions have changed.”

Snap.

My stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“You had an opportunity to make a decision yesterday,” he says, standing up and circling me slowly, looking down on me as he walks. “But you didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. If you’d been trading, the market would have punished you for being so indecisive.” He stops in front of me, so close I can almost feel his touch. My body lights up like it’s on fire. “Instead, I will play the role of the market—and you will be punished.”

A lump swells in my chest. “Punished?”

“Punished,” he repeats. There’s a dangerous tone to his voice that makes my toes curl into my heels. “Take off your clothes, Miss Landers.”

Chapter 6

My heart feels like it’s beating through my rib cage. I could swear Mason just asked me to take off my clothes, but that can’t be right. “Excuse me?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “By now, I think you’d know that indecision isn’t a quality I value, Miss Landers.”

My entire body begins to quiver. His eyes burn through my jumper and burrow under my skin, deep into my bones. I chew on my lower lip, unsure how to proceed. Surely this must be some kind of joke.

“Shoes first,” he says, sweeping his gaze over my feet.

A numbness washes over my skin, transporting me from reality to this surreal moment.

“You can’t be—“

“I am,” he says darkly. “Now take it all off. Or leave immediately.”

My mouth goes dry.

What is happening?

“You want me to take off my clothes,” I say, astonished.

“I think I’m speaking plainly enough.” He folds his arms, seeming a bit bemused, but still deadly serious about his demands.

“I don’t think this is allowed.”

“I’m allowing it,” he replies. “Not only am I allowing it, I’m making it a condition of your employment. Now strip or leave.”

My thoughts race through all the possibilities, calculating the risks and rewards of various responses and actions.

In the end though, I operate on pure instinct.

It’s as though my mind and body are disconnected, signals crossing even as I slip first out of my heels, and then slowly unzip the front of my jumper. My stomach fills with butterflies and my head with trepidation. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is wrong. Unethical, even. But that knowledge isn’t enough to make me pause.

Mason commands the room. This moment. Even my traitorous body.