Page 5 of Cross Check Hearts

The mystery man takes his and raises it with one hand, so I lift mine and clink it against his. Then he leans closer to me, letting his mouth hover over my neck. He’s so close that I can hear his breathing, feel it on my skin.

“To chance encounters,” he whispers, and I shiver.

“To chance encounters,” I agree, and the masked man pulls away with a smile. I gulp down a healthy sip of the whiskey sour just to collect myself, and hum in satisfaction at the wonderful way it tingles on its way down.

“I never introduced myself, by the way,” he says after taking a sip of his own drink. “I’m?—”

“Wait.” I lift a hand, my pulse picking up a little as I interrupt him. “Let’s… let’s not do real names. This place is all about being free and letting go, so for tonight, why don’t you just call me… Isabelle.”

His lips twitch upward, his eyes glinting with something I can’t quite name as he nods. “Okay. Then you can call me James.”

“Nice to meet you, James.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Isabelle.” The way he says the fake name makes it sound like he’s savoring it, and I almost wish I could hear him say myrealname in that way.

The man watches my every move with focused attention, his amber-flecked eyes seeming to take in every detail as they gleam in the flickering light from a nearby candelabra on the bar. Anticipation of what’s looming between us makes my nerve endings light up, my body hyper-aware of his proximity. But he takes a sip of his drink and sets it on the bar, temporarily breaking the tension.

“So,” he says slowly, “tell me about yourself.”

I meet his gaze over the rim of my glass, giving him my best flirty look. “What do you want to know?”

“What do you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about any of that tonight,” I answer, a bit too quickly. Then I add, “It’s too much… reality for a place like this, don’t you think?”

The masked man smiles and nods. “I see what you mean. Okay, then tell me something else about yourself. Something like…” He pauses, considering. “What would be your perfect day? Describe it to me.”

I laugh, surprised by the question, but I come up with an answer immediately. I lower my glass and lean toward him, and he leans in to meet me. “Easy. The perfect day would involve me waking up with someone’s head between my legs, and I’d already be close to coming on his tongue. Then he’d serve me breakfast in bed, we’d do some yoga and take a trip to the spa. We’d go for lunch and spend the entire time people watching, then do some sort of outdoor activity, and in the evening, we’d have dinner together someplace with an amazing view. All topped off by the best sex of my life.”

James’s eyes darken, and he draws in a slow breath. “That’s very specific,” he says, his voice dropping to a rumble. “And ambitious.”

“What about you?” I challenge. “What’s your perfect day?”

He considers for a moment, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. “Mine would start on the ice—hockey,” he clarifies. “Early morning when the rink is empty and quiet. Then maybe a ride on my motorcycle through mountain roads, lunch at a hole-in-the-wall place with incredible food that only locals know about. Afternoon spent by water—ocean, lake, doesn’t matter. Then dinner somewhere with good whiskey and live music. And ending the night…” He lets his eyes meet mine meaningfully.

“With the best sex of your life?” I finish for him.

“Exactly,” he confirms with a slow smile that makes my stomach flip. “That sounds like an incredible day.”

We chat a bit more, and even though we keep the topics neutral and vague, I find that I’m enjoying getting to know him a little bit. But images of him hovering over me, his muscled body settling between my legs, won’t stop flashing through my mind. So when he starts to ask another question, I raise one finger to his lips and shake my head.

“We could talk for hours,” I tell him in a low voice, a little surprised by how enjoyable that prospect sounds, considering I barely know this man. “But that’s not what this night is about, is it?”

The man smirks against my finger, his lips warm on my skin. “Then what is this night about?”

“Doing whatever we want,” I whisper back to him as I lower my hand, and his gaze darkens with heat.

We stare at each other, both of us frozen, until he breaks it by reaching for the legs of my stool and pulling me closer to him, right between his legs. The movement is confident but unhurried, giving me every opportunity to pull away if I want to—although I definitely don’t want to. His cedar scent floods my nose, and my heart races.

“What do you want right now?” he whispers, his face already so close to mine that I can almost feel our lips brushing when he speaks. I swallow hard in the crackling tension that follows as our gazes lock.

And then I kiss him.

His lips meet mine with unrestrained hunger, firm and demanding. One of his hands comes up to cradle my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek just below the edge of my mask.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless.

“That was—” I start.

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