Is this a mistake? Will working for Mason anger my father?
Studying him across the table, Mason could have modeled for Calvin Klein. He was that hot. His square jaw, shadowed by a layer of stubble, reminded me of the lead singer of a rock band. His features were sharp, and he had a few gray strands peeking out from a full head of thick black hair. Under his designer suit was a sculpted physique. Mason exuded a subtle power. He looked at me with an intensity and confidence that I found myself helplessly drawn to. Closing my eyes, I could still feel those powerful muscles rippling under my fingers. Stumbling and landing in the arms of the stranger who tried to run me over on his way out of the elevator had been a stroke of delicious luck. As we dined, my thoughts betrayed me, and I kept thinking of how he’d held me that morning with his strong hands. His long fingers would have been perfect for playing a grand piano...or a woman.
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