I go in for the kill, planting a kiss to his jaw and whispering, “think how good it’ll feel fucking this pretty little mouth.”

“Jesus Christ.” He pushes against my waist and leans back, blue eyes blazing as he stares at me. His other hand comes around and grabs my wrist. “Baby, stop.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” he trails off, pinching his eyes shut as he gently removes my hand, forcing it against my side. He exhales a rigid breath. “Because, I want this to be about you.” His eyes flash open, and there it is again, that struggle so obvious it’s as if it’s vibrating across his skin or flashing in neon letters above his head.

Please, Brooke. You’re killing me.

I stare up at him, confused. Why are you fighting this? I don’t understand.

His free hand glides up my arm, stopping just above my elbow where his thumb begins moving softly across my skin. “What I did earlier, it wasn’t just so you’d return the favor. I would never think like that, Brooke. When I touch you in any way, it’s because I want to touch you. Or I fucking need to. I’m not trying to get something in return.”

I wet my lips, feeling slightly awkward for even insinuating that Mason was fishing for his own release by getting me off. But honestly, what man is that selfless to not even consider his own needs?

His hand forms to my cheek. “Stop thinking so much. Let me enjoy you.”

“You can enjoy me but I can’t enjoy you? That hardly seems fair.”

“Brooke.”

“Mason.” I try to pull free from his grip, but his fingers wrap around me tighter, keeping my arm pinned where it is. I open my mouth, ready to argue, to ask nicely for the use of my hand when a thought settles over me.

Maybe Mason doesn’t want to risk the chance of getting caught by another tenant, and that’s why he’s keeping me from very publicly groping him. Maybe what we did earlier in the photo booth was all the thrill he can handle for one night.

He wants privacy for everything I’m offering? I’m good with that. I don’t need an audience to relish in every thick inch of this man.

I allow my arm to go limp, yielding to his hold. “All right. Fine, I get it. We don’t have to do this here. And I was half serious offering it anyway. I’d rather not get rug-burn.”

He watches me curiously as I lift my clutch between us.

“Come on. Joey and Billy won’t bother us. They’re most likely passed out already and they both sleep like the dead.”

I go to spin around but Mason slides his hand back to my waist and keeps me facing him.

“I’m going to go.”

“What?” I look up into his eyes, my entire body tensing. “You’re leaving?”

Is he serious? Why would he leave?

A hint of a smile touches his lips. He bends down, brushing his mouth against mine. “Yeah,” he mumbles, gently kissing me, barely even the feel of skin on skin.

It’s more like the promise of a kiss, or the idea of one, when you think of something hard enough or for long enough it almost starts to feel real, blurring the lines of reality and fantasy.

He stays that close to me, never pulling away, staring into my eyes for the longest, most intense second of my life. His breath is hot and heavy against my face, quickened, but I have no idea from what, and as I slide my hand to the center of his chest, I startle at the wild beating against my palm.

“Mason.” My voice sounds miles away, frantically chasing after him.

A growl rumbles in his throat. Then, as if something breaks inside of him, he cups my face and forces me against the wall, pinning me while his lips roughly take my mouth in a kiss that has me high and breathless and begging in incoherent words.

It’s violent and vital, exactly how a kiss should feel, with greedy hands and pounding hearts.

I drop my clutch and hold him against me, tilting my head to deepen this, to give him more as I plead for it through whispered words, but the second my fingers tighten in his hair he breaks away.

His hands slide to my neck as he moves his lips to my cheek and keeps them there. “Goddamn, Brooke. It’s really fucking hard not kissing you,” he pants through ragged breaths, leaning back to gaze at me.

I give him an odd look as his hands slip away, and an even odder look when he turns around and leaves me lightheaded against the wall.

What the fuck?

With quick strides, Mason takes his sexy ass in the direction of the elevators, a hand disappearing around the front of him to no doubt adjust the stiff dick I just so rightly earned.

“Um . . . where are you going?” I call out, stepping away from the wall to get a better view of him continuing down the long hallway, to watch in complete shock as he puts more and more distance between us.

He was serious about leaving? No . . . no, he’s . . . no, that’s impossible. He can’t just leave.

Hello! Massive erection! Get back here! I’m supposed to be handling you!

He smiles at me over his shoulder as he bypasses the elevators. “Goodnight.”

My mouth falls open. I bring my hands to my hips as I think of a reasonable explanation for his swift departure, and it comes to me at the sound of his keys jingling. “You’re just going to move your car, right? Then you’re coming back up? You’re not actually leaving . . .”

He pushes the door open that leads to the stairwell, making no attempt to tell me I’m correct or to ask me if I’ll wait for him here or leave my door unlocked.