Page 9 of The Masquerade: Room 2

I think.

Maybe.

“Come on. It’s time to put our tags on, and we’ll get you another drink. You don’t have to have sex tonight, Freya. We’re out having a girl’s night. You were curious. Don’t let any preconceived ideas ruin your night. Promise me.”

“Okay.” I blow out a long breath before following her through the crowd toward the bar. When we get there, I reach into my purse and pull out the tag we received when we arrived.

“You don’t even need to wear that if you don’t want to. Or you can take it off whenever you feel like it. Did you complete the information in the portal?”

“Yeah, but the extent of my likes and dislikes were ‘I have no idea what I want.’ ”

She presses a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “That’s where we all start, Freya. I guarantee there are others in this room who said the same thing. Don’t be shy. It’s okay not to know. Plenty of men here would be more than willing to explore with you.”

A thrill courses through me at the thought, and I attach the small tag to my gown. I can do this. When we have a fresh drink in hand, Celest and I start to mingle. She introduces me to a few of her friends as we navigate the crowd, her Dom zeroing in on her in a sea of people. Even in a mask, he can pick her out, and I realize this is what I came here for. I want a man who will know my body and can find me in a crowd, even with a mask on my face. Is it too much to ask for a man like that? It would seem so with the men I’ve dated of late.

I dip in and out of various conversations, my eyes roving over every detail of the club. It’s enchanting. I can’t help coming back to the hallway Celest mentioned, knowing what people could be doing right now. There’s a man leaning against the wall—tall, muscular but lean, dirty blond hair, and his eyes—he’s looking at me.

My body heats under his gaze. Even from this distance, I can tell his focus is on me alone. My breath is shallow as I stand frozen to the spot, entranced as he casually makes his way through the crowd with a confident gait to his stride, his eyes never leaving mine.

Celest is talking to me, but I don’t pay enough attention to answer, transfixed by the man walking toward me. When he comes to a stop, he’s a foot away from me, and it feels like too little and too much all at once. We stand for what feels like the longest time, his emerald gaze fixed on mine. His lips are sensuous, his jaw peppered with stubble, and I’m flooded by the thought of how it would feel against my skin.

“Hello.” His voice is a low rumble, gravelly and dripping with sex. The scent of his cologne invades my senses, and my mouth goes dry.

“Hi.”

“Would you like to dance?” Holding out his hand to me, I shove my drink and purse at Celest without breaking eye contact with my mysterious suitor.

I don’t speak. I can’t.

Instead, I slip my hand into his, letting him lead me to the dance floor, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling my body flush with his. Every nerve ending in my body sparks to life, the rapid rise and fall of my chest giving me away as we begin to sway to the music. Electricity courses through every fiber of my being, and I feel alive in a way I never have before.

He doesn’t speak, and his eyes remain fixed on me as if I’m the only person in the room. My body is on fire where his hand holds tight on my waist as I gaze up into his eyes. I could get lost in their depths, everything else fading away as I let him lead me around the floor.

The music is ethereal, as enchanting as my dance partner. One song bleeds into the next and the next, and still, we don’t exchange words. He spins me with ease, clearly an adept dancer. It makes me wonder if he does this often, sweeping women off their feet without more than a simple hello, and yet I find I don’t much care. Tonight, I’m the woman in his arms, and suddenly, the night is full of possibilities. The unsettling nerves I felt when I walked through the door give way to a different kind of nervous energy.

My body reacts to this man—a masked stranger—in ways it never has before. As the song finishes, his hand shifts from my waist, sliding up my side, across my shoulder, and into my hair as he leans in, his gaze flitting from my eyes to my lips and back again. A silent question. A plea for permission which I freely give with a slight nod.

His lips brush mine, sending a shiver down my spine, my nipples hardening as his tongue darts out to lick the seam, asking for entrance. He tastes like scotch and a hint of mint, his stroke firm and slow as our tongues tangle in a sensual dance. His hand fists in my hair, holding me firm as he deepens our kiss. When he pulls back, I’m left panting, my senses in overdrive as he presses his lips to mine once more before he speaks.

“Come with me.” It’s not a question. It is a command, and it makes my body sing with anticipation. He releases my hair, his hand caressing down my spine until it reaches the small of my back. It’s almost territorial, sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.

He navigates the crowd easily, finding his way back to the edge of the voyeur hallway where I first caught him watching me. Opening one of the many doors, he guides me inside before locking it behind us.

“Do you want the window left open to whoever may be on the other side, little one?”

“I…” I can barely catch my breath. Am I really going to do this with a perfect stranger?

“Don’t be afraid. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it so.”

My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, my pulse whooshing in my ears as his eyes rake the length of me.

“Open,” I whisper, my voice unrecognizable.

He runs his fingertips down my arms, goose bumps spreading across my skin, my head swimming as his lips find mine once more.

His touch is tender yet fierce, but as his hands move into my hair to release my mask, I panic.

“Leave it on,” I beg.

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