Page 167 of Stolen Moments

“You got it, Mr. Bossy,” I sass with a salute.

“Oh, baby, I love it when you’re a brat.” He winks at me, and my pussy pulses.

“I know.” My face splits into a cheeky grin. I know it turns him on, and then he likes to take it out on my body.

I love how easily we have fallen into us. Are we healed? No. But we’ll get there.

“Good night, baby doll.”

“Good night, Mason.”

He closes the door and I turn the lock like he demanded, listening to his footsteps disappear into the night.

Saturday can’t come soon enough.

The sound of my cell phone beeping pulls me from my sexy dreams of Mason. Last night’s kiss left me aching. I tried using Bog torelieve the throb and ended up making it worse. There’s only one thing—or person—that will be able to help me with my problem.

Grabbing my phone, I peel open my eyes and smile.

Mason: Good morning, baby doll

Mason’s declaration pops up in my head again as I read his message.Everything. The word makes my stomach flip with excitement.

Emery: Good morning, Mr. Bossy.

Placing my phone on the bedside table, I throw my legs over the side of the mattress and stretch. I might as well get a head start and catch the early kickboxing class at the gym.

A knock on the door stops me in my tracks. A smile curls at my lips as I grab my robe and tie it around my waist. When I swing open the door, Mason is standing on the other side, looking delicious in jeans and boots. His jacket is open, giving me a view of his sweater at work as it stretches across his broad chest.

“Good morning, baby doll.”

His gravelly voice hits me right in the center. Hearing his greeting in person is better than any text message.

He quickly kisses the corner of my mouth.

“Morning. What are you doing here?” I almost pinch myself to make sure it’s really him standing at my door.

“I was up early for a call and thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He lifts up a to-go cup of coffee and white paper bag stamped with the cute pastry shop in downtown Pine Hills.

“Work call?” I open the door, letting him inside.

I follow him as he saunters towards the kitchen and answers me over his shoulder, “Kind of.”

Kind of?What does that mean?

“Are you going to go to your class this morning?”

“I was thinking about it. But since you’re here, would you like to have breakfast with me instead?”

“More than anything.” Opening the bag, Mason pulls out four foil-wrapped packages. “I didn’t know what you’d like from here, so I got a couple of different options.”

“Thank you.” I take a seat at the counter, and opt for the veggie omelet with bacon and cheese bagel sandwich, and take a bite.

“You’re welcome. So, I was thinking—”

I groan as the salty taste of bacon hits my tongue. Using my thumb, I shove a piece of the stringy, melty cheese into my mouth. Swallowing my bite, I turn to Mason. “You didn’t finish your sentence.”

His throat bobs as he lifts his gaze from my mouth to my eyes. “I can’t think when you moan like that.”

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