Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
But Jace has left me all alone. And Mason’s so much more than I thought I could want in a man.
I rip my eyes from his hard body. Although he’s in a suit, I noticed his hands first, rough and callused. It’s clear they’re from years of hard work, something the men in here know little about. Actual manual labor.
I try to relax and casually lean against the bar, slipping my pointer finger into one of the empty shot glasses and forcing it onto its side. I don’t know why and it probably makes me appear drunker than I am, but I don’t care.
“Mason, do you like tequila?” I ask him and this time when I speak, there’s a bit of flirtatiousness in my voice. Guilt weighs heavily in my chest, but only briefly before the alcohol drifting into my blood numbs the memories. I’ve been alone for too long. I can have him for a night. Just one night.
Mason’s steel gray eyes roam over the curves of my waist and ass. He’s bold, licking his lips and then taking a step forward to lean against the bar with me. He’s close enough that the heat of his body makes me that much hotter.
I want to know what it would be like for a man like him to pin me beneath him. To take me how he wants me. I close my eyes as a warm flush rises into my cheeks from the intensity of his stare.
“I do,” he replies and his voice is low and rough. It does bad things to me. I rest my head in my hand, both loving and hating the way the alcohol soothes the pain.
This isn’t me moving on, but I’m ready to feel something else. My brow pinches at his response when I look back at him, but then I realize he’s just answering my question about whether or not he likes tequila. I’m a bit more than tipsy but I’m still here and present, and I know what I want.
Even if I’ll hate myself in the morning, it’s one night of not going back to that large, empty house alone.
The tight pull of two small hands at my waist and Sue’s loud voice make my heart skip a beat and I swear to God I almost scream. I feel like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Jules, Jasper’s out front.” Sue talks like she has no idea she just scared the shit out of me.
My heart pounds in my chest as I turn to face her fully, my eyes darting from the man candy on my right and then back to her.
Caught red-handed.
It takes a moment for me to realize what Sue said, and a moment for her to catch on to what I was about to do.
She eyes Mason but before she can say a word, I say, “Jasper?”
Although it comes out like a question, it’s more of a curse.
Sue gives me a sympathetic look as she says, “The exhibition at Ruppert Park must’ve ended.” Jasper’s with the New York Post. Every time he sees me he has a question and I know whatever I say will end up misquoted in the paper the next morning. He’s not kind like the others.
I blow out a heavy breath, looking through the crowd and toward the entrance. I don’t feel like dealing with this shit.
“And what are you doing here?” Sue’s question is directed at Mason who’s standing behind me, still leaning against the bar and resembling sin incarnate. He doesn’t seem to mind the interruption at all. He gives Sue a lazy smile that brings back the heat between my thighs full force.
“Just leaving, actually.” Jesus, his voice is as smooth as silk.
One split second passes and a wide grin spreads across Sue’s face, her dark hair swaying, brushing against her cheek as she knowingly looks between the two of us. I lean backward, gripping the stool behind me and wanting an escape. It’s one thing to flirt with the idea of bringing someone home; it’s another thing entirely for everyone to know I was thinking about it.
Sue looks pointedly at Mason’s cock and raises a brow, which only makes me want to bury my face in my hands.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask Sue and step away from Mason. Gripping my clutch tighter, I’m ready to get the hell out of here. There’s not enough tequila in the world to cancel out the sobriety that the mention of Jasper brings me.
“You two get out of here,” Sue says, stopping me in my tracks. That’s the last thing I expected her to say.
“What’d you say your name was?” she asks Mason.
“Mason Thatcher.” He extends a hand to Sue and she takes his hand coyly with both of hers.
“Mason,” Sue says and her voice drips with sex appeal. It always does. She’s a cold-hearted bitch to some but just as vivacious and insatiable as she was ten years ago when I first met her during my freshman year of college.