Page 22 of Damsel in Defense
Right now, I do need to get in there.
I can’t be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t hurt and crying out for help with Tay Swift lyrics.Mason is a constant surprise.
Deciding I have nothing to lose, I reach out and try the handle.
It turns.
No freaking way.Unlocked.
While a zip of relief tingles up my body at finding the door open, there’s also a second of anger.What kind of dummy leaves his door unlocked?The man is a hockey celebrity—guarded building or not, Mason really needs to step up his personal security.
With that feeling driving me, I twist the handle again, this time pushing the door open and stepping inside.I’m once again awed by the view of the city as I step further into the condo.The amount of sunlight the space gets is incredible.If this were my place, I’d just sit in the middle of the floor, soaking up every ray and good vibe.
Suddenly, a deep bass thumping begins from down the hall, startling me out of my musings.I turn my head, trying to find where the music is coming from.With slow, steady steps, I follow the sound past the kitchen, through the hallway, and—
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no.
My steps instantly halt.My brain backfires and stutters to a stop.
Because what I’m seeing is…is…wow.
Mason is standing in the middle of the mirrored room, mid-workout.He’s in a pair of black basketball shorts, absolutely drenched in sweat…and shirtless.
Gloriously shirtless.
I bring a hand up to the door frame, needing the extra support as I continue to stare into the room, in some kind of trance.
Being part of a rock-and-roll band when I was in my twenties means I’ve seen a lot of things—like, a lot of things.So a shirtless, well-built man isn’t anything new to my eyeballs.
ButMason.Dear baby Jesus, Mason is something else.
Muscles rippling, hair damp, biceps flexing as he curls a pair of dumbbells that look like they weigh as much as a small child.His back is to me, his arms pumping to the beat of the music as he quietly sings along—off-key, but with confidence.
I can’t breathe.
I mean, Ican, but I forget how to for a solid five seconds.
My entire brain is short-circuiting from the sight of him, and then—
He turns.
His eyes land on me.
“Jesus!”he yelps, nearly dropping a dumbbell.
I jump back, hands up.“Oh my God, I’m sorry!”
“What the hell, Victoria,” he pants, quickly putting down the weights he’s holding before clutching his chest.
“I knocked!I swear!”
“Jesus,” he breathes out again, quieter this time as his eyes come back to me.
We both freeze, staring at each other in surprise and shock.Then he laughs—deep and breathless, eyes crinkling as he hunches over and places his hands on his knees.
