Joey approves my purchase as soon as I get back to the shop. Not that I needed him to, but it is always a nice ego boost when your fashion savvy friend announces how flawless you’re going to look in an outfit that leaves very little to the imagination. He then lamely suggests I go back to the store and return the items before they get torn from my body after he gets a look at the receipt I forgot about.
I stow the items away and pretend not to hear his rantings. Talk of creditors, addictions, and something about his car payment costing less than my yoga pants go on around me as I busy myself with work.
Dylan leaves after we close up for the night to eat dinner with Reese’s parents. I think I’m in the clear when Joey slips out of the shop and heads in the direction of his car.
Good. One less person to get rid of later.
Grabbing my bag, I head upstairs to get changed.
A nervous energy buzzes through me. My skin feels hot at the thought of Mason’s hands on my body, his lips moving over mine. Questions swirl in my head as I hastily get dressed.
Is his touch gentle? Will he use my body like he has a right to it? I’m sure he’s a disciplined guy, his physique gives that away, but does he always maintain a level of control when he fucks? Or is that the only time he allows himself to be reckless and unrestrained.
Do I want him that way? Rough and wild? His hands moving me how he wants. Taking what he needs.
As I’m securing my hair back with an elastic band, the loft door swings open, snapping my attention off the wall mirror.
Joey appears in the doorway, now dressed in workout clothes and sneakers.
I’m quickly annoyed at the sight of him, until he whistles appreciatively at my outfit and motions for me to spin.
“Well, you look ready for sex.”
I give him a sly smile. “That’s what I was going for.”
Joey moves to stand beside me. He smiles at my reflection. “There’s a line half-way down the block for his class.”
I meet his gaze in the mirror, my hands frozen in my hair. “What?”
“Yup.”
“Half-way down the block? Seriously?”
“Yup.”
Scowling, I grab his hand and head for the door. “Let’s go.”
Fuck! What if the class is already full? I knew Mason would have a crowd at this thing, but that many people? If I have to wait another fucking day to bang this guy . . .
I don’t even allow myself to finish that thought as we walk outside. I refuse to entertain that possibility.
Joey locks up and joins me on the sidewalk.
“See?” He gestures across the street at the parade of women, his palm outstretched in the air. “I almost ran over three of them when I went to park.”
“Maybe you should’ve.”
That would’ve been ideal. At this rate, if I go to the end of the line I’ll be lucky to get in on a class next week.
Joey grabs my elbow and pulls me off the sidewalk after a truck passes. “Nervous?” he murmurs, dropping his head.
I slowly look over at him. “Of?”
“I saw how flustered you were after talking to him yesterday.”
“What? No I wasn’t.”
I think back to the minutes in the shop which immediately followed that interaction.
My quick consumption of a cupcake. Hardly the breakfast of champions.
I shake my head. “You’re delusional if you think I was affected in any way by a kiss on the cheek.”
“Or an accent.”
I nod. “Right.”
“Or the body of a Greek God. No way would you have reacted to a combination of the three.”
I glare up at him. “Why are you here again?”
He smiles.
Excited chatter fills the air around us as we step up onto the sidewalk. The line forms just outside the door and continues in front of the large studio window, completely obstructing my view of the inside.
“Excuse me?” A woman at the front of the line points behind her. “The line begins back there, around the corner.”
“That’s nice,” I reply, pairing my sarcasm with my fakest smile. I look up at Joey. “I’m good right here. You?”
He stretches his arms above his head. “Fantastic.”
The woman scowls, then turns to her friend. Behind her, the door opens and Mason steps outside.
Hushed “oh, my God’s” and “that’s him” are spoken. People further down the line step out to get a better view of the man captivating everyone’s attention.
God, he’s practically edible.
Dressed in loose shorts that hang low on his hips and a sleeveless tee, Mason surveys the crowd with wide, stunned eyes.
Did he really not think he’d have much of a turn-out? Does the man not own a mirror?
He steps further out onto the sidewalk. A hand flies through his blonde hair. “Evening, ladies. This is quite a shock.”
Joey obnoxiously clears his throat.