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“Mason,” I whisper. I move my hands up to his dark hair, sinking my hands into it to draw him closer.

His mouth finds the side of my neck. I tilt my head backwards, giving him better access as his lips explore it. “I want you,” he whispers sexily into my skin.

I feel him grow hard in his trousers. It makes me burn red hot.

“I will do whatever you want to do,” Mason promises between kisses. “It doesn’t matter, baby.”

But it does matter. His words right now matter. And they only confirm what I want to do.

“Mason,” I say, lifting his head back so I can look at him.

“Yeah?”

“I want to do everything with you. Now.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mason’s eyes immediately lock on mine as a surprised look enters his eyes.

I trail my fingertips down his dress shirt, stopping at his belt buckle, my eyes never leaving his. “Before you ask me, because I know you will, yes, I’m sure. I want this as badly as you do. I have condoms in that bedside table ready to use. So I think I’m the one who needs to ask you, Mason. Do you want to do this? Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

His hands move up to my hair, his fingers sinking through it as his eyes never leave mine. “I want you. I wanted you in Australia. China. Japan. I’ve wanted you this whole season. That hasn’t changed. But what has?”

He leans down next to me, his lips against my ear. “What’s changed is that I know you now. Who you are. What makes you laugh. The way you listen when I talk and how bright and driven you are. It’s made me want you even more, and I didn’t think that was possible. Since that first day I saw you in the garage in Australia? It’s only been you, Catherine. Just you.”

Mason lifts his head. I move my hands to his face. Then his mouth crashes down onto mine, hot, desperate. Yes, this is how I want to kiss and be kissed by Mason. My tongue wars with his, taking and taking and taking. My skin feels hot, and my hands are grabbing any piece of him I can get. His face. His hair. It’s not enough.

Not nearly enough.

His hands are all over my body, from the exposed skin on my back to my hair, then down to my arse. A low growl escapes his throat as the sequined fabric bunches in his hands when he squeezes me through the material.

“I want you so much,” I whisper between kisses.

Mason’s hand moves up my back, and I love the roughness of his skin against mine. Then he slides it underneath my hair, tilting my head back, and rips his mouth away from mine to bite and kiss his way down the side of my neck.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmurs into my skin.

“Mason,” I gasp. I begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, as I need to feel his skin. His heat. Taste him the way he’s tasting me. I’m halfway through his buttons when he recaptures my mouth with his, kissing me as he takes over the unbuttoning. The shirt falls open, and I immediately move my hands over his chest. He shudders against my palms. His skin is pure heat and muscle.

And all mine to touch.

I press my lips to his chest in a kiss, and he groans. I taste his cologne mixing with the salt of his skin, and I run my tongue along the contours of his body. His hands are in my hair, gripping it harder, and I push his dress shirt back, needing more of him. Mason quickly tears it off, dropping it to the floor. His mouth reclaims mine, kissing me furiously as his hands stroke me up and down over the fabric of my dress.

He reaches around my back, desperately pulling on the zip. He finally jerks it, and my dress falls open down my back. Mason immediately moves to the spaghetti straps on my shoulders, tugging them down, and I help him. The dress pools like liquid around my feet, our mouths still fused together as he directs us to the bed.

We tumble onto it, landing in the middle, both of us laughing. Mason quickly pins me to the bed, and I hook one leg over his hip, feeling his hardness press against me through his tuxedo trousers. His hand moves over my breast, and I arch up on the mattress. Then his fingertips move over the strapless adhesive bra I have on, and he stops everything he’s doing.

“What?” I’m desperate for him to get my bra off. “What’s wrong?”

Mason props himself up so he can look down at me, and to my surprise, he begins to laugh.

“What is so funny?” I ask, furrowing my brow in confusion.

“I’ve never taken one of these off before,” he says, his fingertips tracing over the wisp of a bra I have stuck to my skin, his eyes dancing at me. “Do I peel it off? Is it like a plaster? Will it hurt?”

I shriek with laughter, and he drops his head into my shoulder and laughs, too.

“I will undress for you,” I offer.