Karina
Watching Mason drive has jumped to the top of my favorite things in the world list. There's something about watching his big hands rest on the steering wheel, his long fingers wrap around the cylindrical shape, and the way his forearms flex as he easily maneuvers through the streets of Laurel Springs.
“You okay?" His s**t-eating grin is proof he knows exactly what I was looking at.
At dinner, I had a few margaritas, and I might possibly be replaying every second of what happened in the backseat of this Jeep the last time we were together. Crossing my legs to ease the ache between them, I let my gaze meet his. “Fine." The word is breathless and husky, even to my own ears. I sound like I should be on the other end of one of those s*x-operator phone lines.
“You sure? A little tip
