Turn Over

I nodded. I had bypassed casual the first time I saw him. “So my boyfriend is Mason Lachlan. I think that sounds good.”

“Too bad we’re on this plane with all these people. I would see what other sounds I could get you to make.” He slid his hand up my thigh. I gasped when his fingers ducked under my skirt.

I shook my head. “No,” I warned.

He chuckled, his hand sliding back to my knee. “God, do I want to.” He raised his eyebrows. “Private plane next time.”

He flipped the tablet back on.

I stared out the window. We’d be on the ground in Dallas in a few minutes.

Lachlan Corporation was exactly how I pictured it in my head. It was in a high-rise in downtown Dallas. Mason’s office took up the top three floors of the building. It was impressive and dominant. Not unlike its owner.

We walked next to each other through the halls. I had to remind myself this was not a place we could hold hands, no matter what Mason said about the openness of our relationship. It was hard to be so close and not be able to touch him.

The staff seemed genuinely happy to see him back in the office. It had been a few weeks since he had been in Dallas.

“And this is the boardroom.” He shoved the heavy wooden doors open. I peeked inside.

“Nice. Do you sit there?”

There was one chair at the end of the table, the rest flanked the sides.

“Yes. That’s my seat. Come on, I’ll show you my office.”

I followed him through the hallways. There were paintings and sculptures. He had spared no expense outfitting the suites.

We walked into a corner office. He closed the door when I passed over the threshold. “This is it.”

There was a sleek black desk on one end. A round conference table in the center, and a couch and chairs at the far end.

“Two flat panels?” I questioned.

“One for games. One for the business channel.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I knew he followed baseball almost as closely as the Dow Jones. I walked toward the desk. It was intimidating. Maybe it was the shiny surface and the darkness of it, but it looked powerful. I knew Mason would look powerful sitting behind it.

I was afraid to touch it. Afraid my fingerprints would show up like neon lights.

Before I could move to the chair, I felt Mason’s hands circle my waist. His mouth was on my neck, his teeth nipping behind my ear.

“You know what I’ve never done in here?” His palms moved to my thighs, dragging my skirt upward.

“Oh no. We’re not. We can’t. All those people are out there,” I protested. “They’ll know what we’re doing.” I could already feel the heat moving to my core. I craved him as much as he craved me.

He laughed. He didn’t seem thrown off by the employees in the hallway.

My head rested on his shoulder, while his fingers massaged between my thighs. I was melting in his hands.

“We can’t. Really, Mason. I’ll never be able to show my face here,” I whispered then moaned when I felt his fingers feather across my skin.

He turned me toward me. I saw the look of desire in his eyes. The pure want. The hunger. He picked me up, gently setting me on the desk.

“You know how many rules I’ve broken because of you?” He picked at the top button on my shirt.

“How many?” I watched as my shirt fell to the side.

“I think I’ve reached too many to count.” He kissed my throat, his hands running through my hair. “And this one. This rule I’m going to have to break.”