Tearing my bedroom door open, I come face-to-face with Mason. My chest jumps in surprise. Pretty Boy—well, Doctor Pretty Boy—is wandering around the hallway. All six-feet-something of him, in nothing but a bath towel, looking all wet and delicious and infuriatingly sexy. He rakes his long fingers through his wet, brownish-blondish hair. “I think I’m lost,” he mutters sheepishly, his gorgeous mocha eyes darting around at all the closed bedroom doors in the long hallway.
