“That’s me.” His jaw ticks, and I wonder if dickhead Mason is about to reappear. “Mr. Nice Guy.”
I cross my arms under my bustier-clad breasts, settling in for the playful argument I feel coming. “Your bandaging my ass only confirms it.”
He squints one eye. “It kinda does, doesn’t it?”
Silence builds between us, his blue eyes going from mirthful to something heated. My breath speeds along with my pulse, and his eyes track from my chest to my eyes and down to my lips.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“Thank you.” The urge to touch him is overwhelming. Tentatively, I reach out and fork my fingers into his hair. His lips part as I run my nails softly down his jawline. “You’re beautiful too.”
What am I doing? This is so far beyond professional flirting. This is . . . What is this? I’ve been in these rooms with more good-looking men than I can count, but none of them have brought out this urge in me: the desire to touch and to learn and to know someone without an end game, without a dollar amount flitting through my head. No calculations, just pure, raw, animalistic desire.
“Mason?”
“Hmm.” He steps closer, just one half step that brings his chest to mine.
Breath catches in my throat at the contact. My tongue moistens my lips while I stare unabashed at his full mouth. “May I kiss you?
His eyes flare, the blue turning into pure liquid fire. “Fuck yeah.” He grips my hips and tugs me to him.
I hook my arms around his neck, thankful for my stiletto heels that put me not much shorter than his six-foot-something height. My stomach tumbles, my heart throbbing in my chest as he lowers his mouth to mine.
Softly he brushes his lower lip against my upper as if he’s asking permission or waiting for me to beg: a simple act, so tiny and yet so hot. Most men I deal with, even the one’s I sleep with, are quick. Very little seduction’s involved with a sure thing. But this . . . This is something new, foreign, and unbelievably sexy.
I tilt my head and allow the very tip of my tongue a taste of his lips. We groan simultaneously at the touch, and his fingers dig deep into the flesh of my hips. Finally, after a few more light teases, we open to each other, allowing our tongues to finally meet in a slick friction I feel in my toes.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my lips. “I knew you’d taste like this.” He dives back into my mouth, this time deeper, sucking at my tongue.
My legs wobble beneath the mind-scrambling power of his kiss, and I fist my hands into his hair to keep upright. Alternating between nips of our teeth, pulls of suction on each other’s lips, and hands that grasp one another, I lose myself to his mouth.
“Hey!” There’s a pounding at the door. “Everything okay in there?”
I rip my lips from Mason’s, breathing heavy. “Yeah, Santos. Be out in a minute.”
“Time’s up, Trix. You know the rules.”
Mason’s glaring at the door, and his hands continue to hold me close to him.
“Shoot. I better go. I’m up next, and I need to find something to wear that’ll cover my injured booty.” Not to mention get my damn head together. I release him and take a step back only to have him follow me with a step forward.
“Up next . . .” The softness of his expression turns hard.
My eyes grow tight. “Yes.”
His grip tightens. “Why.”
The fire of irritation stirs in my belly at the judgment I hear in his voice.
“Because it’s my job.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “To get naked for a room full of horny dickheads.”
And there it is. Judgment.
“Oh, and you’re so much better than I am? You beat the shit out of people for a living.”
“I can’t even believe you’d compare the two!” He steps close, his fingers digging into my skin. “I’m a mixed martial artist. What you do is visual foreplay. Give men something to jack off to.”
My breath catches in my throat at his cruelty. Maybe he’s not such a nice guy after all.
His eyes narrow. “Do you get off on it?” He sneers.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” I peel his fingers off my hips and move to the door.
“You do, don’t you?”
I shove him in the chest. “You have no idea why I do what I do.”
“It’s not rocket science, Trix.” His low and condescending chuckle freezes my blood. “You didn’t even fucking flirt with me at the club with those kids.”
The chill of his voice makes my skin prickle.
“Propping your ass in my face and suckin’ on my tongue is all part of the job, huh?” He moves past me, grabbing the door and flinging it open so hard I flinch. “I might be nice, but I’m not stupid.”
With long strides, he carries himself down the short hallway and disappears into the crowd, leaving nothing but the sear of his lips and an ache in my chest behind.