Page 18 of Masked Seduction
Her friend moves beside her, arm sliding around her waist protectively. She looks at me like she’s trying to place me.
She won’t.
I offer, “Drinks. On the house. Least I can do.”
The friend smiles politely. “That’s kind of you, but we’re okay.”
Jenna doesn’t agree. “Actually, I’d love a drink. Thank you.”
I smile beneath the edge of my mask, just enough for her to see it in my eyes. “Coming right up.”
A quick snap of my fingers and the bartender nods.
I should leave. I should walk away now, while I still have control. But I don’t. I stay.
She’s watching me intently, trying to read the man behind the mask. I lean in, close enough to smell her perfume—light, feminine, and subtle. “Men like that,” I murmur near her ear, “don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
She shivers once. She tries to hide it with a sip of her drink, but I catch it.
“I need to go, um, freshen myself up,” the friend says. “You guys get comfortable.” She hurries away before either of us can say anything.
I take a seat. Jenna eases herself into the booth next to me. The silence stretches as we get used to being close to one another.No touching. No flirting. Just presence. I’ve found women melt faster under stillness than under pressure.
She looks at me, eyes flicking over my mask, then to my dyed beard. “Do I get your name?”
I pause. “You don’t. That’s part of the fun.”
I spot a slight smile below the mask before she says, “I get it. Still feels weird, though. Names are the most basic information you get from someone when you first meet them. Before, you know…”
I raise an eyebrow. “You knowwhat?”
Her eyes flash. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m doing anything like that tonight. Sorry. Still just trying to figure out exactly how to handle myself here.”
I chuckle. “You’re doing fine.”
Her curves shift as she turns slightly toward me. My cock twitches. My fingers want her waist. My mouth wants her throat. But I behave.
“Oh, am I?”
I nod. “You are. And, what’s more, I like the way you carry yourself.”
She huffs a small, surprised breath. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I murmur, “you walk like someone who doesn’t know how beautiful she is.”
She frowns and looks down, smiling shyly like she doesn’t believe me. That’s alright. By the end of the night, she will.
I lean back slightly. “You’re not used to compliments, are you?”
She shrugs. “Not the sincere kind.”
“Then let me be clear. You’re stunning. More than that, you’re arresting.”
Her eyes flick to mine, wary now. “Arresting, huh? Careful. That almost sounded poetic.”
“I’m not the poetic type,” I reply. “But I am the kind of man who says exactly what he means. The type of man who goes after exactly what he wants.”
“And what is it you want?” she asks.
