Page 16 of Endless Obsession

“Anything in particular, or should I choose for you?”

My teeth catch on my lip again. “What are you drinking?”

He chuckles. “I don’t think you’d like it. Vodka, straight up, with a twist of lime.”

I can’t help making a face. I’ve never tried vodka, but I’ve smelled it before, and it smells like rubbing alcohol to me. Not anything I’d want to drink.

“You choose,” I tell him bravely. “But not vodka.”

That smile deepens. “Are you going to let me choose everything tonight?” There’s that rasp in his voice again, promising something darker than his cultured British accent lets on. That heat blossoms through me again, but it’s mixed with apprehension.

“I—”

“Don’t worry.” His voice is smooth again, soothing. “I’m only teasing you a little. Flirting. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He motions to the bartender. “Another vodka for me. And a gin and tonic for my new friend here. Two limes.”

My mouth drops open as I look at him. “You knew what I was drinking?”

“I’m very perceptive.” He smiles. “And gin has a very particular smell.”

He shifts forward, moving towards me so that there’s even less space between us now, less than a hand’s breadth between him and me. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, smell the woodsy smoke of his cologne. “A very particular taste, too,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth once more. “I’d like to find out what it tastes like on you.”

“I—I don’t know if I want to kiss.” I’d thought about that earlier. Kissing feels sweet to me. Intimate. Something that you don’t do with a stranger, only being used for sex. Did Nate kiss any of his other women? I wonder as I look up at the masked man in front of me. I’d imagine he did. I don’t think men—especially a man like Nate—put that kind of weight on kissing.

I take a step back, putting a little more space between me and this stranger. My head is spinning, and I’ve only had one drink. This all feels so strange.

The things this man is saying to me sound good. Too good. They’re the kind of thing I imagine someone saying after a date. Several dates. After wine and dinners and nights out. The sort of thing you warm up to. But he’s saying them to me without ever even knowing my name—seconds after meeting me. He’s introducing himself to me with seduction.

But that’s what I’m here for. Isn’t it?

I swallow hard as the bartender brings our second round of drinks. Those are also the kinds of things that no one has ever said to me. No one has ever said they wanted to taste me before.

The kind of men I date, men like Nate, men who wear polo shirts on the weekends and have investment accounts, don’t say things like that.

“Is this too much for you?” The man tilts his head slightly, and I try to read what I can in his eyes through the barrier of the mask. His eyes are dark blue, I see, now that he’s this close.

It doesn’t look like he’s judging me. It looks like he’s being cautious. Making sure that this is what I want. That thought makes me feel more comfortable.

“I don’t know what I want,” I admit. “This is my first time in a place like this.”

“I can tell.” Once again, there’s no judgment in his voice. It’s just an observation. “We can just talk, if you like.”

That startles me. This isn’t the kind of club where people come to talk; I know that much. But he gestures towards one of the leather couches to the right of the room, far from the play area, where I can see a few couples starting to drift over. “We can sit down. Get to know one another. Anonymously, of course.” His eyes glitter with mischief, as if he knows exactly how ridiculous that statement is. The entire purpose of this place is to not know each other. But I appreciate that he’s trying to make me feel comfortable.

I glance back at Jaz, who makes an eager shooing motion with her hand. I bite my lip, stifling a laugh, and nod. “Okay,” I tell him, and he stands up easily, with all the grace of a predatory cat, as his gloved hand wraps around mine.

“Come with me, then.”

The feeling of the leather against my bare palm feels strangely erotic. I’m fully clothed, but he’s somehow even more so, and that tingle runs down my spine again, trapping itself between my thighs. My breath catches in my throat as he leads me over to one of the couches, sinking down onto it as he drapes one arm over the back and looks at me expectantly.

I sink down next to him, crossing my legs at the ankle as I take a nervous sip of my drink. “You can’t possibly have come here just to talk,” I say softly. “I’m sure there’s plenty of women here who would do anything you like right now. Without the need for all of this—foreplay.” I bite my lip, and he smiles.

“You’re already relaxing. Look at that—an innuendo.” His smile reaches his eyes, and I look at his full mouth, that heat spreading through me again. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you up. Jaz’s voice echoes through my head, and I clench my hands around my glass, the nervous butterflies fluttering through me again.

“I’m sitting here next to you because I want to be,” he continues. “I’d rather be sitting here talking to you, than doing anything else, with anyone else, in this club right now.”

A rush of emotion washes over me, tightening in my chest. He has no idea what that simple statement, said so blandly, means to me right now. The thought that anyone would rather be with me instead of another woman makes me feel breathless, and overly emotional for where we are—especially considering the fact that I’ll never see this man again. I’m giving those words far more weight than I should. But I can’t help it.

I came here because I wanted to feel desired. And he’s doing that right now. He’s giving me everything I need, already, with a simple statement.

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