Page 81 of Stolen Moments

Anticipation settles in my stomach like butterflies. My skin prickles.What does he have up his sleeve?

He hands me the first glass. “Sip.”

As usual, I heed his command without a second thought.

“Too sweet,” I say, licking the drop off the bottom of my lips.

Mason follows my tongue as he takes the glass from my hand and sips it. “Agree.”

He places it on the counter and hands me the next. This time the flavor is tart, almost sour, and I shake my head in disapproval, returning the glass.

He gives it a try and grins. “Agree. Bottle two is also out.”

We repeat the process twice more.

“So, birthday girl, tell me… Which one is your favorite?”

I roll my head from side to side, pretending to mull it over. “I’m going to have to go with the third one. It has a nice balance between sweet and dry.”

“It was pretty good.” He lifts the bottle, revealing the label to me, but my eyes are on the sexy man in front of me. “But … I think we need to test it again. Make sure it’s the right fit. Come here.”

He crooks his finger at me, and like the moth to his flame, I slip off the stool and walk around the counter, obeying him without hesitation.

“Stop.”

Again, I comply, stopping mere inches from his hard body.

He grips my hips, squeezing, and bends his knees, running his nose up the length of my neck, inhaling my skin. “So fucking sweet,” he mumbles, kissing my neck. “I think it’s time we get rid of these clothes, yes?” He arches a brow at me in question, waiting for my answer.

“Yes.”

His fingers find the hem of my shirt, and in one quick go he removes it, throwing it to the floor. His eyes burn with hunger as he explores my naked torso. “You’re fucking beautiful, Emery.”

My eyes close as he slides his fingertips down my chest to the tips of my breasts, my nipples turning into diamonds under his touch. Hooking his fingers over the waistband of my shorts, he pushes them over my hips, letting them fall to the floor in a pool at my feet. He hisses at the sight of me completely bare for him.

“Fuck, I take it back. You’re a goddess among men. I’m not worthy of such perfection.”

I preen. His praise is a balm, soothing my jagged edges. I’ve lived a life of constant criticism—from my parents, from society, from myself—about my looks, my career, and my choices. Everything. I have to live with unrealistic expectations held over my head. It’s an exhausting, lonely way to live.

But all those criticisms and expectations melt away when I’m with Mason. He doesn’t want me to be someone I’m not. He doesn’t want or need anything from me. He only wants me. Just as I am.

He wraps his large hands around my ribcage and lifts me onto the counter. I hiss at the cold sting of the marble hitting my ass. My eyes fly open to find him staring at my body in awe, his lip trapped between his teeth.

I tug at the bottom of his shirt. “Since it’s my birthday, I think it’s only fair that you should be naked too.”

“That can be arranged.” He steps back, making a show with his striptease, and slowly takes off his button-up, dropping it to the floor. “Better?” he asks.

“Nuh-uh.” I put my hand out, palm up, with a silent demand for his shirt next.

He grins and removes his shirt. Of course, he does it in the only way a hot guy can. With one hand behind his back, he tugs the collar, pulls the fabric off of his body, and drops it next to his dress shirt.

What is it about the way men take off their clothes that makes it so sexy?

My hands itch to touch the man standing before me. Instead, I lean back onto my hands and take in every hard ridge of his torso, from his firm pecs, down the lines of his abs, to the delicious V of his adonis belt. I lick my lips, hungry to lick every peak and valley of his body.

I point to his slacks. “Those too.”

Mason slips off his socks and shoes, kicking them to the side. He unhooks his belt and one-handedly pulls it out of the loops, dropping it to the floor with a clang. Flicking open the button of his slacks, he unzips them, sliding the material over his hips and letting them fall at his ankles. He stands before me in nothing but a pair of tight charcoal boxer briefs. The head of his cock peeks out the waistband as a bead of precum glistens from the tip, tempting me.

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