Page 14 of The CEO's Obsession

Hope.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Harper

I jolt awake,disoriented by the gentle hum of engines and the soft leather beneath my cheek. For a moment, I can't remember where I am. Then it all comes rushing back—the private jet, Mason's unexpected offer, the whirlwind departure from everything I've ever known.

My face burns as I realize I must have dozed off on Mason's shoulder. God, how embarrassing. I straighten up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, only to find his seat empty. The cabin around me is dimly lit, most of the windows shuttered against the night sky outside. How long was I out?

The plane seems steady enough, so I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand, stretching my stiff muscles. Where did he go? I make my way down the aisle, past the plush seats and gleaming fixtures that scream wealth beyond my wildest dreams.

At the back of the cabin, I notice a door left slightly ajar. Soft light spills from the crack, and I hear the faint murmur of a voice. Mason's voice, low and intense. Is he on the phone?

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn't eavesdrop. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I inch closer, peering through the narrow opening.

What I see makes my breath catch in my throat.

The bedroom beyond is bathed in golden light from a single lamp. And there, silhouetted against the glow, is Mason. His back is to me, jacket discarded, crisp white shirt stretched across broad shoulders. One hand grips the edge of a polished dresser, knuckles white with tension.

The other is wrapped around his cock.

I stare, transfixed, unable to look away from the raw, primal sight before me. Mason's powerful body is taut with tension, muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin as his hand works up and down his impressive length. The sheer size of him makes my breath catch in my throat. I've never seen a man like this before, never witnessed such an intimate act.

My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure he must hear it, but Mason seems lost in his own world of pleasure. His eyes are closed, head tilted back slightly, lips parted as ragged breaths escape him. A bead of sweat trickles down his neck, and I have the insane urge to trace its path with my tongue.

"Harper," he groans, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

And then he's coming, thick ropes of cum shooting from his cock. The intensity of his release is mesmerizing. I stand there, frozen, as Mason opens his eyes and meets my gaze in the mirror. For a moment, time seems to stop. But instead of looking embarrassed or angry at being caught, his eyes darken with unmistakable desire. He holds my gaze, continuing to stroke himself as the last pulses of his orgasm subside.

I know I should look away. I should turn and flee back to my seat, pretend this never happened. But I remain rooted tothe spot, pulse racing, a dull ache building between my thighs. What's happening to me? Why can't I move?

Ican'tmove. Can't breathe. Can't tear my eyes away from the sight of Mason's massive cock pulsing in his hand, ribbons of cum still spurting onto the floor.

"Harper." His voice is a low growl that makes heat pool in my belly.

I should run. Should be mortified at catching him like this. But my feet remain rooted to the spot as Mason turns, his impressive length still half-hard and glistening.

He takes a step toward me. "Come here."

My heart pounds. Every instinct screams to flee, to pretend this never happened. But as Mason's eyes rake over me, hungry and predatory, I find myself taking a shaky step forward.

What am I doing? This is crossing a line. If I let him touch me now, I know there's no going back.

Mason's hand reaches for me, and I hold my breath.

Mason's hand cups my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. He draws me closer, and I go willingly, my body betraying my mind's hesitation. His lips brush mine, soft as a whisper. The tenderness of it makes me whimper, a sound that seems to ignite something primal in him.

His kiss deepens, becoming hungry and insistent. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting of expensive whiskey and raw need. I melt against him, my hands clutching at his shirt for support as my knees go weak.

Through the haze of desire, I feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against my stomach. How is he already fully aroused again? The sheer size of him both thrills and terrifies me. My inexperience suddenly feels glaringly obvious.

Mason's hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He cups my breasts through my shirt, thumbs brushingover my hardened nipples. I gasp into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through me.

"Tell me to stop," he growls against my lips. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

But I can't form the words. Can't deny the ache building between my thighs or the way my body yearns for his touch. Instead, I press closer, feeling the heat of him even through our clothes.

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