FOURTEEN – A DETERMINED BILLIONAIRE

MIRA

My cheeks heat as I fix the last button of my trench coat. What the fuck was I thinking? How the hell did I go from hating Mason's guts to almost melting into a pool of heated butter at his touch? I always pride myself on my focus, but how did I get so distracted?

I risk a peek at him to find his dark head bent over his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys.

Asides from my irregular breathing and the foggy windows, there's no indication that New York's most eligible bachelor had just come all over a common stripper.

I struggle to regain my composure and look comfortable, meanwhile, Mason looks as gorgeous and as composed as ever.

I feel a slight pang. What did I think? That he would be affected by whatever just happened between us? I am just his slut. He made it clear from the get go that I am only here to give him sexual pleasure, and that's it.

I thought I had accepted that. So why does my heart twist at his indifference? Why does it feel like I want…more?

I shake my head