Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)
I giggle. “No, but can we find somewhere where you can.”
He puts his hand into the small of my back and leans down to whisper in my ear. His breath tickles my neck, giving me goosebumps. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to make my secret hard to keep?”
I lean even closer. “Because I am.”
His eyes darken, and he looks at me for a moment. “From the time your meal arrives you have approximately eight minutes until I drag you to my car.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
He leans in and gently kisses my lips. “Whatever I want.”
Our lips touch again. Suddenly, I don’t care where we are or who can see us, because he is the only person in the room.
He has this intensity about him. It’s like he’s trying to make me lose my mind with these soft, gentle kisses hidden among hard words.
And it’s working.
He’s only kissed me a few times since we left home.
He could talk me into doing anything with that kiss. It’s pure perfection.
His attention is a damn addiction…
I’m like a drug addict on the precipice of a high, and I need the hit.
His hand slides down, and he subtly grabs a handful on my behind “My beautiful Bree.” I can almost hear the electricity buzzing in the air between us and I know he can, too.
“That does something to me,” I whisper.
He raises his brow in question.
“Hearing you call me that.” He only calls me it when we are alone. That’s probably why I love it so much.
His tongue darts out, sweeping across his bottom lip as he watches me.
“Bree,” he mouths and I giggle just as a large bell rings out to signal their opening of the ballroom.
We wait for the crowd to clear a little. He takes my hand, leading me into the ballroom and through the crowd. He checks where we are sitting on the map and we make our way over to the table.
Julian suddenly stops mid-step.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
“What?”
“One of my work colleagues is here.”
“So?” I frown.
“I don’t want them to fucking know about you.” He drops my hand like a hot potato and strides to our table, pulling my chair out angrily.
What the hell? It’s not my fault his work friend is here, but I take a seat anyway.
“Drink?” he snaps.
Is he kidding me? I’ve done nothing wrong.
“Please,” I reply calmly.