Page 21 of Masked Seduction
Our drinks arrive swiftly, placed gently on the polished table before us. I pick up the crystal glass and take a cautious sip, savoring the silky warmth sliding down my throat. It’s smoother than anything I’ve tasted before, hinting at the kind of money and influence that follows this man wherever he goes.
“Good?” he asks, clearly amused by my reaction.
“Very,” I admit. I take another sip, feel it loosen the nerves knotting inside me. “Expensive taste.”
“I like quality,” he says simply, lifting his own glass and clinking it softly against mine. The subtle note of his voice, deep and controlled, catches my attention again.
There’s a faint slip in his accent, something foreign hiding beneath an American drawl. It confuses me slightly, but I push it aside.
“You’re nervous,” he says, leaning closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
I let out a small laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little.” His voice is velvet-soft, comforting. “Relax.”
Easier said than done. My spine feels rigid, and I suddenly realize I’m perched awkwardly at the edge of the sofa, tense, as if ready to bolt at any moment. Embarrassed, I make a show of leaning back against the cushions, forcing my muscles to loosen.
“I don’t usually do things like this,” I admit, my voice betraying more nerves than intended.
He tilts his head, curious. “Things like what, exactly?”
I gesture vaguely at the club, at him, flushing when I realize how silly I must look. “Coming to a place like this,” I say. “Meeting strange men in masks.”
A low laugh escapes him, warm and indulgent. “Then why tonight?”
I hesitate, staring into my whiskey for courage. “I don’t know,” I finally whisper, honesty spilling out unexpectedly. “Maybe because I want to be someone else tonight. Someone brave, daring, confident.”
His gaze intensifies, locking onto mine with startling directness. “I think you underestimate yourself.”
I laugh softly, deflecting. “You don’t even know me.”
“No,” he agrees. “But I know you caught my eye the moment you walked in here.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I shake my head, laughing nervously again, deflecting from my insecurity. “I don’t exactly fit in here. Everyone’s so… perfect.”
He leans in, voice low and serious. “You’re wrong. Your curves, your presence—that’s what drew me to you. Believe me, you fit in more than you realize.”
Warmth runs through me. “Still, not knowing names…” It’s a weak protest, as if I’m trying to talk myself out of what I know I want.
He shifts closer, his presence overwhelmingly masculine, intoxicating. “Seriously, relax. Anonymity makes this little adventure that much more fun.”
“No names, no faces,” I say, my pulse racing faster, excitement eclipsing anxiety now. “Just for tonight.”
His gaze holds mine, steady and intent, as though he can read every hidden desire pulsing beneath my skin. “Exactly.”
The air thickens between us, charged with possibilities. His eyes drift to my lips, lingering there as if already tasting me. My breath hitches softly, betraying my craving for his touch.
He notices. His hand slowly lifts, the rough pad of his thumb tracing softly across my lower lip, making me tremble.
His voice is husky, dangerous, when he says, “You’re so beautiful, and you don’t even see it, do you?”
My mouth parts but no words come, only a sharp inhale as warmth floods low in my stomach. He watches my reaction, satisfied, and cups the back of my neck gently, drawing me in.
Our lips touch softly at first, a whisper of promise before deepening, his mouth warm and firm against mine. A shiver of need races through me as he claims me with slow, demanding kisses, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I open them for him.
The kiss grows urgent with each breathless gasp. I lean into him, intoxicated by his taste, whiskey and something darker, tempting. His hand slides from my neck down to my waist, holding me close, fingertips pressing possessively into the curve of my hip.
When he finally pulls back, his breath uneven, he murmurs softly, “You taste even sweeter than I imagined.”
