“Don’t thank me yet,” he leans forward then, his hand slipping down my shoulder, over my arm, to grasp my hand. “If we’re going to do this, we need to appear like a very intimate couple.”
My blood rushes in my ears as I wait.
He’s touching me again, his fingertips skimming up the inside of my arm toward my elbow. “You were right. There is a price for my protection.”
“What is it?” I ask, hardly able to breath.
“I want your virginity.”
And I want to give it to him. But somehow, him speaking those words has me shifted in my seat. It’s so transactional. This whole thing makes me uncomfortable. “Mason.”
He laces his fingers into mine, leaning even closer. He knows when to speak and when to be quiet. Mason is impeccably perfect with even the smallest choices, and I find myself gripping his hand tighter.
There isn’t even really a choice. Have sex with the sexiest man alive or be thrown to a rival group of gangsters and certain death. Hmmm. Let me think.
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