As she started to see more clearly, she stopped at the edges of her kitchen and saw a shirtless Mason standing over her stove. He was in his boxer-briefs and dog tags, which left nothing to the imagination. Nothing. And, my God, the man was chiseled out of marble. Her gaze followed a tattoo curving up one large bicep and onto his shoulder. Another piece of impressive ink graced his muscular back, and crept to the other side, out of her line of sight. His skin was dark and tanned from hours of being in the sun, even his dark hair was a touch lighter at the tips, she noted. When he turned to get something out of the fridge, she saw a light smattering of hair over his chest, arrowing down to the waistband of his boxer-briefs and disappearing. Cassie’s nipples tightened as she watched him move about her kitchen. Wetness pooled between her legs and a telltale throb started there as well. Her mouth salivated over more than the delicious smelling food. Mason looked over his shoulder, his lips widening into a smile.
