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Turn Over(94)

By:Violet Paige


I wrapped one leg against his waist, pushing him toward me. I arched forward ready to take him, needing to feel him, wanting him to rock my body into total oblivion.

He held strong against my efforts. I searched his eyes. “Is something wrong?” I asked completely breathy.

He rested on his palms. His movements slowed.

He sat back on his heels. He shook his head, running in hands through his hair. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I think I let things get too carried away.” He reached for his boxer briefs and stood to pull them on over his toned legs.

“Carried away?” It sounded accusatory and slightly whiny. I sat forward, realizing none of my clothes were in arm’s reach. I was naked on display on the balcony. I tucked my knees to my chin, unable to look at him.

He dropped my clothes in a pile at the end of the chair. “Yeah. We have an interview to do. I’m sorry. Get dressed and meet me inside.”

Before I could protest or wallow in my utter humiliation, he walked inside the condo, sliding the glass door behind him.





7





Mason





What the fuck just happened? I walked into the bedroom and grabbed a T-shirt from the top dresser drawer. I pulled a pair of running shorts on and headed for the bathroom. I splashed my face with cold water, knowing full well I needed to soak in a damn ice bath after what almost happened on the balcony. What was I thinking?

I paced, running my hands through my hair. She was sexy, gorgeous, smart as hell and somehow I had forgotten she was a reporter.

I felt my body go rigid thinking about what a disaster it could have been. I almost fucked the girl on my balcony. I shouldn’t be surprised. She was after something no one had ever gotten.

Too many drinks, I cursed, although I knew I wasn’t drunk. Far from it.

I dried my face then waited for her in the living room. After a few minutes the door opened and she walked in. Her shirt was tucked in, her skirt back in its proper place. It was almost as if it had never happened. The only problem was I wasn’t going to be able to forget it.

“Sorry about that.” I cleared my throat. “I realized it’s late and you have a deadline. I apologize, Miss Paige.” Using her last name reminded me this was supposed to be a professional exchange.

Her eyes focused on the floor. “Thanks for being so concerned.” The sarcastic tone was tinted with something soft.

My chest tightened.

I had screwed this up. Whether she wanted to have sex or not, it didn’t matter. I slept with a lot of women, but not ones who could cause problems for my company. And a business beat reporter could do just that. Only I hadn’t made all of that clear to her.

I should have stuck with my gut instincts and left her the hell alone, but I was feeling cocky from the deal and too many drinks. Shove a gorgeous woman in my hands, and there was only one way I was going to react. I wanted to kick myself for thinking it was ok to take her home. For thinking I could ignore who she was.

I stood and walked into the kitchen. Eden had set me up with one of her fancy one-cup coffee dispensers. I threw in a dark roast, made the first cup and then a second. I walked back toward Sydney and handed her one of the mugs.

“Here you go. Drink this. It might be a late night.”

She took the mug. “Thank you.”

“So, where do you want to start?”

She scooted back on the couch when I sat close to her. I couldn’t blame her. I had confused the hell out of both of us. But, no harm done. I stopped it before it happened. I would honor the promise I made to her and then this would be over. No need to see Sydney Paige again.

“I-I need to get my notes.” She placed her coffee on the table and walked to the door where she had left her bag. She walked back through the room, flipping a few pages in the tablet. I waited for her to get comfortable on the couch.

God, I needed that cold shower. Watching her hair fall against her cheek, all I wanted to do was pull her under me and start over where we stopped. I could yank her off this couch and carry her to my bed right now. Screw the interview. Screw my rules.

“How old were you when you sold your first property?” she asked.

I shook my head. The question jolted me back to reality.

“I was twenty-two.” I drank the coffee. I needed to kill the buzz her lips had created. She had tasted like the sun. Her skin was like warm honey under my fingertips. And her breasts were gorgeous. I had to stop thinking about her body.

“And was that one in Dallas?”

I nodded. “Yes. It was a warehouse that I converted into apartments.” I smiled. It was my first deal, and even though I didn’t walk away with much money, I walked away with enough to buy two more tracts of land. It was the start of everything for me. This was good. Talking about business kept my mind off the sweetness of her thighs.