I shoot upright suddenly and feel my whole body shiver, and my heart starting to sing in my ears as I slowly turn to see him.
It really is him.
Mason Thorne stands in front of one of those mirrored doors he’s opened silently.
He’s been watching me bent over. Oh my God, staring at my huge ass.
I want to flush with embarrassment, but the sight of him cancels out everything. The next sound he makes really does something to me.
It’s like a plug inside me has come loose and all I know is forgotten, the only thing I want, the only thing I need is him inside me somehow filling that space his low tone has just created.
All low growling sounds aside, the man is a god on earth.
He’s much bigger than I thought, well over six and a half feet.
My eyes lock with his dark and intense ones with a glow deep inside them that burns right through me, all the way down to my center.
I feel my chest bristling against my blouse, but I don’t feel ashamed. I feel compelled to have him look at me, to see what he’s doing to me. A part of me wants to lift my blouse and show him, to hitch my skirt up and beg him to take me right here on the cold marble floor.
What the hell am I thinking? It’s those eyes, that sound.
His thick dark hair seems to be held in place by the same power his whole persona just oozes. A clean shave, chiseled jaw, and flawless, tanned skin gives the appearance of someone who almost isn’t human, which only shows the faintest traces of lines near his eyes.
No man could look this good. Not in real life.
His suit shimmers in the full light which he fills it with his muscular frame, the slightest movement of his body underneath showing a figure that’s as conditioned and perfect as the rest of him.
Naturally, the way my mind’s going my eyes travel south, hoping to get the full picture of the man.
But his huge hands are folded over his groin, holding one of the programs I just spilled all over his perfect floor.
I hear myself trying to say something, but the whole room seems to pitch to one side before the floor starts to rush up towards me.
The remaining box and programs fall away, making me feel a little lighter.
I feel like an idiot, my first few moments of meeting the most perfect man alive and I’m falling over.
Probably fainting from fever.
Although now I can’t decide if it’s an illness or just the only kind of fever I know I’ll have somehow for the rest of my life.
Mason Thorne fever… and I’ve got it bad…
I know I’m falling, but I only hear a pathetic little sound from somewhere inside me.
Before I fall too far, I feel his firm hands on me, holding me up and drawing me closer to him.
How he moved so far so quickly is beyond me, it’s like there’s some magic rope between us, pulling us together.
“I got you. I’ve got you now,” I hear him murmuring, his huge arm around me while his other holds me up by the elbow, leading me back towards the doors he must’ve come through.
I feel like I’m floating. I can’t feel my feet.
And as stupid as one part of me feels for nearly fainting, another part doesn’t care.
He can hold me like this all day, forever if he wants to.
I look up, nuzzled into his massive chest and abs, which I can feel flexing underneath my soft body, as his heart pounds against his chest.
His eyes are still intense, but bright with concern as they narrow, looking away from me only long enough to guide me to a low, long couch along a wall in what I assume is his office.
I try to speak, to say something, but being this close to the only man I’ve ever had damp mid-day fantasies about is too much.
“Don’t try to speak,” he orders, making me shiver as his forearms go under my legs, lifting them up so I’m lying on the couch.
He leans in close, so close to my chest, my hard nipples are scratching at his suit so hard I can’t help but moan softly.
And then I see it.
His smile, about two inches from my face, his eyes traveling from his own view of my chest to meet mine, shining with satisfaction.
“That’s better,” he growls, hesitating with his hand at my blouse, moving back a little.
Being mindful of my own space, which I only want to be filled with him right now and nothing else.
“You almost went over just now,” he observes, seeming to struggle to collect himself, but not standing, just kneeling down beside me still.
“Are you unwell?” he asks, again reaching out with his hand for my brow, wanting to shift the hair stuck to it, but thinking better of it.
“I… I’ve been a little dizzy today… a fever, I think,” I rasp, feeling like I always do whenever any man even looks at me or almost gets close.
They get a different look in their eye once they really see me and take in my less than stick thin figure.
They give a smile, tell me ‘thanks for the offer’, and then they withdraw.
Liking me, but never wanting me.
I feel my lower lip start to quiver, blubbering something about dropping all the programs.
Out of habit, I tell myself I’m clumsy. Fat, that no man, especially Mason Thorne could ever find me even remotely attractive.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mason
I get to take her into my arms… just not quite in the way I would like. I’ve never had a woman faint just from looking at me but something tells me there’s more to this beauty than meets the eye.
I help her into my office, laying her out on one of the couches. I want to do more than just lay her down. I’d rather be carrying her off to my
