Page 48 of Veil of Secrets

She walks slowly into the room, toward the couch, eyes sweeping the crates, the corners, the busted light above us.

She doesn’t speak until she’s in front of me.

Then she takes the mask.

“I’m not great at rules.”

“Good. Neither am I.”

She holds the mask up. “You always carry props around for foreplay?”

“This isn’t foreplay.”

She smirks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Then she slips the mask on.

The lace settles over her eyes. Thin. Decorative. It doesn’t hide much—just alters the view. Makes her look sharper. Like she’s testing a second skin.

She moves past me, circling the room now. Her fingers trail along an old crate, tap against the lid of a jar that used to hold tips. She plays casual, but I can see the tension in her spine.

“Let me guess,” she says, still moving. “I’m supposed to steal something and you stop me?”

“No. You steal. I catch you. The game ends when one of us gives in.”

“Give in to what?”

“Whatever this is.”

She glances at me, half her mouth pulling into a smirk behind the mask.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“I don’t need to.”

She leans against the crate now. Legs crossed at the ankles. Hands behind her back.

“And you’re just gonna let me… take?”

I nod. “Try.”

She walks forward, unhurried.

Stops inches from me.

Her hands come up slowly—one brushes my shirt, fingers grazing the edge of my chest. The other slips to my waist.

I don’t stop her.

Her voice drops.

“Tell me when I’m close.”

“You’ll know.”

She runs a palm flat over my stomach, fingers teasing the hem of my shirt. Her nails scratch gently, just enough to light up nerve endings.

I say nothing.

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