Of course, the only reason I know he’s sneaking peeks at me is because I’ve been sneaking peeks at him, too. Fuck—he looks good, in a simple black T-shirt that hugs his wide chest, dark denim encasing his powerful thighs and a pair of classic black low-top sneakers that give him a casual, laid-back vibe. His hair is messy tonight, not carefully combed like it was when he left for work this morning. The scruff on his cheeks adds a rugged edge to the whole presentation. I like it. And I’m not the only girl in here who’s noticed Mason. Hell—women are all over him. I’ve been watching him peel them
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