I never have before. I’ve never been tempted by any man before. Yes, I’m thirty-one and the only cock I’ve ever known is made from silicone—not a surprise given my virginity saved me from being brutalized when I was abducted thirteen years ago.
But, since I’ve met Mason Rivera, I’ve been having wild thoughts of pleasure I’m not sure is possible for me. I press my thumbnail into the tip of my finger to keep myself present and cool instead of searching for him wildly.
I swear I feel him watching all the time, even at home—and Ilikeit. Instead of feeling creepy, it feels like he’s looking out for me. Like he sees me, past all the layers I’ve carefully constructed, and doesn’t care about the broken bits.
For the first time when a man stares at me, I want to invite him closer.
Which is absolutely insane, because even if you were blind, you’d know he’s dangerous. Even if I didn’t know of his background as a sniper in the Delta Force, I’d recognize it. He reeks of violence.
The smart thing to do would be to stay far away from him.
And I have—so far. But whenever he looks at me with those dark eyes, like he knows my greatest fears and will battle them away with his bare hands, I have to fight the urge to run to him instead.
3
MASON
Lily walks in and everything stands still.
The noise.
The movement.
The years I spent teaching myself not to want the things I can’t keep.
My focus narrows on her, everyone else fading into background blur while the target sharpens into perfect clarity.
She’s wearing what I think of as her work outfit—jeans, a fitted black top under a practical jacket, and boots. Her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail that gives me ideas.
Her eyes track the exits—front, back, kitchen—with the precision of someone who's been trained or traumatized. Probably both. You spend enough time in war theater, you know the look. She catalogs threats in the same methodical way I do, and it hits me like a punch to the gut because I recognize myself in her.
My dick hardens painfully just watching her survey the room. The tactical awareness, the controlled fear she's fighting to keep buried, the way her hand stays loose at her side like she's ready to move fast.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I lift my glass to my lips, but it’s her I’m drinking in. It undoes me every time I see her—the curve of her throat, the way her golden hair catches light, her lush lips, and the slim strength of her body. I can’t see them from here, but I know her eyes are the kind of hazel that go stormy when she’s moved.
Women? Usually I can take ’em or leave ’em. I’ve got two good hands.
Lily? There’s no fucking way I can leave her, and I’m not going to.
4
LILY
There he is—in the darkest corner at the end of the bar.
I’ve never spoken to Mason Rivera beyond a muttered hello, but I know everything about him. I know he grew up in New Mexico and went into the Army when he graduated high school. I know he was the sniper of an elite special ops group. I know that his record for confirmed kills is classified. I know he and his two friends, Jake Callahan and Luke Bennett, retired from the Delta Force and bought a ranch that they’re turning into a horse breeding operation.
And I have a bridge to sell to anyone who believes that.
My friend at the FBI told me about Mason’s background, but it was my new friend Emma, Jake’s girlfriend, who told me that Mason likes me.
Can I trust that? Can I trusthim?
5
MASON