Page 93 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“Yes?” his voice was somehow deeper, huskier than I remembered.

It sent a shudder racing through my body. I smiled into the darkness, letting my fingers trace patterns on the cool metal frame of the bed.

“Hey there,” I said softly. “Did I wake you up?”

He chuckled, a sound that made my insides warm.

“Not quite. What’s the matter, Moth? Can’t sleep?”

I bit my lip, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement flood through me at the same time.

“Not really,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just thinking about tomorrow night.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I held my breath, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, me too,” he finally said, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery. “It’s gonna be quite the event.”

“Are you going?” I asked, careful to keep my voice steady, despite the shake in my limbs.

“Of course,” he said hoarsely. “I have to.”

“Work thing?” I asked.

He chuckled.

“Something like that.”

He was not confirming, yet not denying. He was as stoic as ever. It wouldn’t be that easy, but that was fine. I’d figured as much. Most of the town would be there anyway, so would his answer have told me that much regardless of what he said?

“Are you excited?” I asked.

“Maybe a little.”

The fish was nibbling the bait. Now it was time to set the hook, and for it to work the way I needed it to, it had to be believable.

It had to be real.

I lay there in the darkness, picturing his face as he spoke. I had seen his eyes behind the mask—a deep, rich whiskey-barrel brown that bored into me. When he’d lifted the mask that night on the stairs, I had seen the curve of his angular jaw and the smooth, creased smirk that folded his lips. Together, they didn’t finish the puzzle, but it was enough to give me something to think about.

I slid my hand down my body, slipping my fingers past the waistband of my panties and toward the place where my thighs came together. Releasing a breathy sigh, I made a show of partingmy thighs, and I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

Hook, line, and sinker.

His next words came out in a low, gravelly rumble that made me shiver.

“Moth,” he whispered my name like a lover’s secret, sending a thrill down my spine that settled right behind my pelvic bone. “What are you doing right now?”

I hesitated for just a moment before deciding to take the plunge.

“Just lying here in bed… thinking about you.”

“Is that so?” he murmured, his voice heavy and loaded. “Tell me more.”

I giggled, unable to contain it anymore. My fingers continued their slow journey across my skin, tracing the curves and dips of that forbidden part of me with a feather-light touch. I let out a soft sigh, savoring the deep groan of his reaction.

“I’m just feeling a little lonely, and maybe a little scared,” I confessed, allowing vulnerability to lace my words.

The silence that followed felt electric, crackling with anticipation.

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