Page 5 of Bidding For Her Curves

This dizziness, it’s coming and going again.

The guard puffs his cheeks and scratches his head. He watches me, making sure I don’t beep after I step through the security scanner.

He extends his hand to an open elevator. “Be my guest. Mr. Thorne’s office is empty. You can go see for yourself. Leave the boxes at reception and come straight back down.”

I feel a little stab of hurt like I must be sicker than I thought.

It actually feels like Mason is somehow brushing me off.

What a crazy thought. I’ve never even met the man.

“But I,” I start to protest. The guard looks more impatient than ever, so I scoop up the boxes and make my way to the elevator, leaning heavily against the brass railing inside to stop myself from toppling over from exhaustion.

The guard’s right. The whole reception area is vacant, not a single person to be seen.

There’s a huge pair of mirrored glass doors behind the reception counter, but I remember what the guard said, just leave the boxes and go.

I feel my hands slipping on one of the boxes, and watch helplessly as the top one tumbles onto the floor, spilling the executive programs in a sea of blue leather and glossy paper.

I curse aloud and bend down to start picking them up. I only manage to make it worse, kicking them and skidding on them instead.

I growl to myself, then suddenly feel eyes on me.

From behind.

A new feeling washes over me, replacing my anger with more of the Mason fantasy I had earlier. I even think I can smell a masculine cologne.

Metallic, but warm with a edge of…

“Ahem.”

His deep, throaty sound from behind travels right up my legs and into the place I never thought possible to feel so strongly, so suddenly wet on a workday.

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.

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