Page 17 of Risk

My dick hardens.

“I’m in the middle of a good book, so I won’t disturb you today with a concert, Mr. Finch.” Leah grabs her dust rag and gets back to work like I’m not standing here with my jaw on the floor.

I zero in on her shapely legs. Is she even wearing shorts under that fucking jersey?

I don’t want to know. I’ll turn into an animal about it, regardless of the answer.

This sneaky minx thought she could ruffle me by wearing that jersey, and it’s worked. Everything about this woman cranks my lust into high gear. I’m hungry for her. Starved.

Fuuuuck. Eating her would be so—

Nope. Don’t go there, Mason. You just opened a door you need to slam shut and padlock.

Dragging a hand over my face, I count to ten and force myself to sit at my desk and get back to work. Leah has a job to do and so do I. She’ll see the flowers I bought her soon enough. Maybe when she does, this pathetic game we’re both attempting to play will end and the real fun can begin.

Minutes tick by and it gets harder and harder to sit still. She isn’t in the living room anymore. Where has she gone? I strain my ears for any noise she’ll make.

Stop being so desperate, Mason. You’re better than this.

I used to have more patience than this. Fuck it. I’m going for her.

Pushing out of my chair, my heart jumps at the sound of glass shattering.

“Leah!” I run out of my office faster than lightning.

Chapter 7

Leah

This is karma.

While the narrators in my ear are having hot, enemies-to-lovers sex, I quickly crouch down and pluck the broken glass off the floor. Mason races into the kitchen, yelling something I can’t hear thanks to how loud the volume is on my audiobook.

Pulling out my earbuds, I look up at him. “I’m so sorry.” My voice shakes. “The vase slipped out of my hands when I moved it to wipe the counter. I’ll pay for it to be replaced.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” I stare at the mess all over the floor. I can’t believe I did this. “I’m so sorry, Mason.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s nothing.”

Nothing? There are probably a hundred gorgeous daisies in this bouquet, with my name on them, and he says it’s nothing?

“Please don’t touch it,” Mason kneels down and tries to grab my wrist.

“No, no, I’ve got it. Really.” Dodging his hand, I pick up more pieces. “Ouch!” A shard sticks into my palm.

“God damnit.” Mason scoops me up in his arms and carries me out of the kitchen.

It happens so fast; it takes my brain a minute to catch up. My mouth takes even longer. “Mason, it’s fine.”

“You’re bleeding. You’re definitely not fine.”

I think he’s mad at me. Great.

I planned to fuck around with him possibly being X today, and even if he wasn’t, I wanted to push his buttons just for fun by wearing this stupid jersey. I don’t even like the Yankees. I just wanted to snag his attention. I wanted him to ask me out again so I can say yes, this time.

The more I thought about it all week, the more convinced I became that Mason was X. If that’s the case, and he’s cool with dating someone like me, I want to try. Just one night won’t hurt. No feelings. No deep connection. No big plans. I just want to have fun with someone who might be into the same kinks as me.