Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
His sweats are not down, and his dick is, well, most definitely not hard and in his hands.
So he wasn’t pleasuring himself to thoughts of me?
I feel the scowl before I know it’s coming, and then I flush all over.
Why is there a bitter taste in my mouth all of a sudden?
I clear my throat and slip inside. Mason instantly looks away, his cheeks tinged the slightest bit pink, and I realize he’s embarrassed.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this man, it’s that he hates feeling helpless, and he’s not a fan of being the one waited on, though he seems to love doting on me.
Even the day I met him, he filled my plate high with breakfast, breaking down the proteins and carbs and all this other crap the dedicated athlete knows all about.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was well aware carbs were in just about everything thanks to my mother’s obsession with my weight or that I wouldn’t be able to finish a quarter of what he served me without getting sick to my stomach.
Okay, enough stalling!
I push forward, grab Mason by the waist, and turn him. He jolts at first, then allows me to spin him around, and when I push gently on his good shoulder, he lowers onto the lid of the toilet.
When he finally looks up, his eyes widen, his good hand shooting to my forehead as panic pulls at his features.
“What?” I rush, my own hand shooting up to my cheek.
He frowns slightly, moving the backs of his fingers to my temple. “You feelin’ okay? You look like you have a fever, but my hand’s kind of numb, so I can’t tell if you’re hot or not.”
I might flush even more as I pull his hand away, turning his head so he can’t stare at me and pretending it’s so I can untangle his shirt. “I feel fine. Kind of pissed, to be honest.”
His head snaps back, eyes narrowed.
Chuckling, I turn his head again. “I am here for a reason, Mase. Did you think I was just trying to get out of my house?”
“Were you not?” he teases back.
Smiling, I tug his shirt over his head and ease it down the sling, letting it land around the clasped part for now.
Mase looks to me as best he can, and I raise a blond brow. “What good am I here if you’re not going to use me how you need to?”
Something flashes in Mason’s eyes, and he reaches out, his hand planting on my hip.
He gives a little squeeze, and I swear my pulse jumps. “Sorry, Pretty Little. You want me to use you how I want, then that’s what I’ll do.”
There’s an intensity in his eyes that holds mine a moment longer than it should. I think I nod, quickly leaning over so I don’t have to try and decipher the expression on his handsome face. I work the clasp of the back of the sling and ease it down his body, tossing it to the side.
Mason stretches his neck slightly, but when he goes to move his arm, he can only lift it so high. His jaw clenches, and he looks off again.
“Hey,” I whisper, and I don’t realize I’ve gripped his jaw and turned him back to me until his lips part, causing my thumb to slide up his chin, the tip tingling against his lower lip. I yank away, but Mason catches my hand before I can lower it and holds it in the space between us, his eyes locked on mine.
“Say what you were going to say,” he whispers.
I smile softly, tipping my head a little. “I was just going to say you’re going to get better and remind you that it’s only been a handful of days. You’ll be out of here and back on campus in no time.”
His gaze moves between my eyes, his hold on my hand tightening. “That’s the only part I’m not looking forward to.”
I cock my head, contemplating the easiest way to remove the bandages. “Going back to school?”
“Leaving here. Leaving you.”
My eyes snap to his, but I quickly dip them to his bandages once more, trying to hide the smile threatening to slip. “Such a kiss-ass.”
Mason’s chuckle is low, and hesitantly, he releases my hand.
“Okay.” I nod, taking in all the bandages across his torso. “So I take it we’re removing the wraps?”
Mason blows out a long breath. “I think it’s time, yeah. I’m starting to smell myself. Pretty fucking gross.”
“Yeah, I thought it was the feta earlier but…”
Mason’s arm is quick, fingers flying out and tickling my sides. I jolt backward, laughter spilling from me.
“Kidding. Kidding.” I move toward the drawers, digging through them for something to help. “How you still smell like you, I’ll never know.” Scissors. Score.