The heavy mahogany doors of Mason’s private executive suite clicked shut behind us, cutting off the low hum of the thirty-fourth floor.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, the city spread out beneath us in a sea of gray and chrome, but inside the sprawling office, the air was thick, heavy, and electric.
Mason didn't walk to his desk. The moment the lock engaged, he turned, taking three long, deliberate strides toward me. Before I could even set my tablet on the leather sofa, his large hands cupped my face, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones with a intensity that took the breath straight from my lungs.
He pulled me into him, his lips crashing down on mine in a kiss that wasn't calculated or composed. It was raw, fierce, and brimming with the intoxicating adrenaline of our victory
