On the third floor I walked over to my door. I fumbled with the key in the lock. When I stepped in, I turned on the light. I hadn't expected to be bringing him back with me. I was so glad I had spent the afternoon cleaning.
"Did you live here with Patrick?"
I turned to look at Mason. He was looking around the apartment. I was so embarrassed. He lived in TrumpInternational. He wasn't used to seeing apartments like this. He was tall, broad shouldered, and muscular, and he made the apartment look even smaller. "Yes."
"It's...nice."
I laughed. "It's horrible, I know. And I can't even really afford it. A secretary's salary isn't exactly great money." I leaned against the kitchen counter.
He walked over to me and ran his hand down the side of my neck. "Is that really what you want to talk about right now?"
"No." I wanted him to kiss me, but he didn't.
"So, when that incompetent ex of yours fucked you...did he do it here?" He ran his hand along the edge of the counter.
I swallowed hard. "No."
He walked over to the kitchen table. "What about here?" He put his palm down on the table.
