Page 70 of Fallen Hero

Shit.

Celibate for ten years, Mason had kissed me and finger-fucked me to orgasm.

Before I could apologize, he hooked me around the back of my neck and brought my face close to his. “Don’t go there.”

“You don’t know where I was going,” I protested.

“You’re gearing up to say you’re sorry. I already told you, I’m a big boy, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do. Not only was I with you every step of the way, I want more of you, Calli. I don’t know what it is about you, or why I feel the way I do, why when I’m next to you, what makes me want to toss you over my shoulder and keep you captive. I also know I don’t care why, I just know I do, and it feels right in a way it’s never felt before.”

There it was. I knew that look was pure caveman.

“I wasn’t lying or exaggerating, sweetness. I’m edging toward losing my control. Before that happens, I need to leave. We straight?”

I nodded, not trusting I could hide my disappointment if I spoke.

With a soft brush of his lips over mine, he let me go and stepped back.

I immediately missed his hands on me.

Mason walked to the door while I stood rooted in place.

Then he was gone.

And I was left standing in a gym in a penthouse owned by a stranger, smiling after having my very first non-self-induced orgasm.

Vagina sated—check.

Heart under wraps—not even a little bit.

Time to mission prep.

I was still in my robe, but my hair and makeup were done for dinner with Amir when the pull of the balcony got the best of me. Ignoring my dress laid out on the bed, I made my way to the slider.

Instead of sitting on a lounger, Mason was standing at the railing, hands curled around the metal banister, staring out at the cityscape, but when I approached, his head turned. After a top-to-toe eye sweep, he smiled.

“That tracks,” he mumbles.

“What does?”

“You living dangerously.”

I shrugged but kept my distance. “It’s been a few hours. I thought I’d be safe.”

“You thought wrong.”

I took in his wet hair, black slacks, and crisp white oxford. He looked showered, ready to go play bodyguard, and edible.

My efforts to hide my smile were fruitless when I asked, “Were your . . . activities not successful?”

Mason’s lips twitched. “Activities?”

“You know, your event, endeavor, deed.” I tossed out a few synonyms.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

Without permission, my feet took me to Mason. As soon as I was close, he let go of the railing and hooked me around the waist, drawing me flush with his side.

“Fuck, you smell good.”