Page 17 of Midnight Masquerade

"You're awfully quiet," he murmurs as he punches in the code for the front door.

"Mmhmm. I'm thinking about the bodies in your basement."

"I don't have bodies in the basement, unicorn." He squeezes my ass cheek. "I have sacrifices in the dungeon."

My gaze flies to his, my eyes narrowing on him. "I'm not sure which is more alarming. The fact that I can't tell if you're serious…or the fact that I wouldn't be surprised if you were."

He smirks, hauling me closer to him as he carries me inside. With the lights off, I can't see much—just marble floors, the shape of furniture, and a sense of massiveness, as if this entire area is cavernous. It doesn't feel overwhelming or empty,though. There's a calmness and comfort to it that I immediately like. It feels like him, like home.

When he flips on the light, that feeling doesn't diminish. What I can see of the house is absolutely stunning. Deep, comfortable furniture nestles on white marble floors and fluffy rugs. Roman-inspired artwork adorns the walls. The banister of the grand staircase and the cornices have ornate scrollwork carved into them.

There are plants in planters situated around the room, bright, colorful blooms filling the space with an exotic, floral scent. I immediately fall in love with his place. It's not sad and lonely, but lived in and comfortable, as if he truly enjoys being here. His personality is everywhere—from the stack of notebooks on the edge of the coffee table to the tie draped over the edge of the banister.

"You know damn well there isn't a dungeon here."

I glance back at him in time to see his gaze settle on my lips.

His eyes heat and darken. "Yet."

"Yet?"

His lips brush mine before his tongue follows the same path, sending my thoughts scattering.

"Yet," he breathes. "Maybe I'll change my mind and build one for you." His hand sinks into my hair, craning my head back. My entire body reacts, pleasurable chills racing through me. "Fill it with all kinds of toys to torture you with so you're coming all over my fucking cock day and night."

I moan, my core clenching as heat rolls through me in a massive wave. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a filthy mouth for a virgin?"

"Never used it on anyone but you." He nips my bottom lip and my entire body aches. Good lord. Every time he touches me, every single kiss sets me ablaze. "And just so we're clear, I can't fucking wait to use it on you, Madeline. Repeatedly."

"Maybe we should get to that part then," I groan, clinging to his shoulders.

"Do you want to see the house first?"

"Saw it. Love it. Don't care to see the rest of it right now, Whitlock," I growl, sliding my hands into his hair to tug the overly long strands like I've wanted to do all night. "There are other things I want to see more."

"Yeah?" He smirks at me. "Like what, unicorn?"

"Your tuxedo on your bedroom floor."

"Goddamn," he growls, heat flaring in his eyes before he swoops, crashing his mouth down on mine. "I fucking love how brave you are, baby."

Brave, hell. I feel like I might vibrate apart at the seams with anxiety. Three thousand competing fears battle for dominance in my head. What if I'm terrible at this? What if he hates my body? What if it hurts? What if we have sex, and he kicks me out of here? What if we're both terrible at this, and it's awful, and we never speak again?

But I want this—I wanthim. So freaking badly I can't stand it. My body physically hurts from desire. I've never felt anything like it. If being a little bit brave means I get to touch him—on purpose this time—then I'll do it, dammit.

He makes me feel safe enough to do it. All night, I've felt safe with him, like it's okay just to be Madeline. He's been real with me, and I've been real with him. And it's been beautiful, messy, and perfect in a way that I've never experienced before now.

I want more of that. Enough to smother my fears. Enough to stifle my anxieties. Enough to be here right now, in his arms, slowly freaking falling for him—theft, trauma, theft shrine, spite mansion, and all.

He carries me toward the stairs with me wrapped around him…wrapped up in him. I'm freaking lost in his arms, kissing him like I can't stop myself. I don't see a bit of the house. All I seeis him. All I feel is his hands on my body as he practically races up the stairs with me in his arms, his mouth still moving against mine.

He trips at the top, and we go sprawling across the freaking runner at the top.

"Oops." I giggle, my head cradled against his chest.

"At least I didn't fall down the goddamn things this time," he mutters, hauling me up toward his mouth again. "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," I promise, straddling his hips.

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