Page 13 of His Two Hidden Masks

“These curves,” I said, pointing to my breasts, “or these curves,” I pointed to my hips, “or are you wondering about the whole package.”

“The whole package.”

Holy Fuck. Every word this man spoke was seductive. This man was strong. He would take what he wanted, and I had no doubt that he would make me moan. Oh, my God, I wanted him. Here was a man without complication. A man who made me feel like he could bring me to climax with just a touch of his hand.

“James, there is something I should tell you about Venice,” I whispered, inspired, “but if I share this secret with you, you must promise not to tell a soul.”

“I always keep my promises,” he said.

“There is magic in Venice,” I continued to whisper, knowing my voice was filled with desire. “People mistake the magic of Venice for love.”

“Is that right?”

I nodded. “The true magic of Venice is sex.” Who the hell was I and where was my broken-hearted, insecure self?

“Sex is magic.” James smiled. “You are not only beautiful, you are clever. I like that, clever Bella.”

I liked it too. “Venice offers pleasure to those who are willing to take it. Pleasure that can last minutes, hours, all night. The magic of sex will bring you to your knees.”

“For one night,” he said. “Sex that will bring me to my knees.”

“Yes,” I said. “Right now, for example, I feel the magic. Do you?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to embrace the magic of sex for one night of pleasure in Venice?”

“With you?”

“Uh, huh.” I nodded, words were too much right now. I needed to calm the beating of my heart.

“Yes, I would very much,” he said, his voice low. I liked the way he looked at me. I liked the way he wanted me. I knew exactly where I hoped this night would end, but I wasn’t done playing.

“Now, if you want to experience sex in Venice for just a night, you have to close your eyes in the moonlight and hold the hand of your prospective beloved.” I gazed across the cafe table at this beautiful man.

“And how long does this spell last?” he said, leaning toward me.

“Just one night.” The need pulsing between my legs grew stronger. I wanted to lean into this feeling, to feel the power and the heat of his body moving through me. My breasts tingled. My hands ached to touch his bare skin.

This is what I needed, not a walk, not a late-night brainstorming session re-hashing my business plan. I needed a night of passion with a beautiful stranger named James.

“How could I possibly say ‘no’ to sex with you for one night?” He reached across the table, his fingers dancing across my wrist, his touch electric, impossibly alive.

“We agree then,” I whispered. “Sex is the magic. The spell lasts one night, as long as we agree.”

“I agree,” he said. “One night?”

“One night.”

If this beautiful man was sent to me by the moon, I would bathe in his desire. I would allow his body to move into me, move with me, shape me, shake me, heal my wounded heart. I wanted him. I wanted this. I wanted magic.

I pointed to the sky. The clouds had passed in front of the moon. I waved to the moon as if I had the power to shape the sky, and the clouds shifted. I knew it was coincidence, but in that moment, I held my power. I believed I could control the weather.

I would take this stranger, make love to him for one night, and no one would ever need to know but us. I was a thousand miles away from the stress of my real life and I loved it. James would belong to me and only me, and I would be his clever Bella.

Moonlight flooded the piazza. Lovers who had passed earlier looked at the sky, eyes filled with wonder. They stopped and kissed. The painter put down his brush and looked up, removing his hat as if he needed to pay his respects to mother moon. The violinist paused for a moment to look at the moon before continuing his song. Soulful, beautiful music filled the piazza.

I laughed. My eyes had filled with tears. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I stood up and held out my hand to James, the American, who had been everywhere in the world it seemed, but Venice.

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