Page 44 of Masked Seduction
He’s close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice. His scent. His presence. My brain is trying to keep up with what he’s saying but my body’s reaction isn’t helping. I’m flushed. Aware of every inch of him. I fight the urge to take a step back.
He looks at me while he speaks, eyes locked on mine, and I swear something I’ve seen before flickers in them.
My nipples tighten under my blouse, my pussy clenching with heat as he continues. He talks about logistics—dates, attendees, optics—but I don’t hear any of it. Not really. Because all I can think about is the way he touched me in the dark. The way he groaned against my neck.
I blink a couple times and look down at my tablet, hoping he can’t see me blushing.
“Any questions?” he asks.
I swallow. “Just send me that list of options and I’ll get started.”
He gives a small nod, then gestures toward my iPad. “Pull up a map.”
My fingers fumble slightly as I navigate to the city grid on my tablet. He moves around, coming to stand just behind me.
That goddamn cologne. Dark cedar, leather, a hint of spice. My body floods with heat as the memory slams into me.
I nearly moan.
“Here,” he says, pointing at the tablet. “Downtown, but not central. This block is mostly commercial—clean, quiet, discreet. There’s a hotel here that should suffice.”
I nod dumbly.
“If they push back on that location, offer the Seville off Halden. But make it clear we’ll provide security. Ours. Not theirs.”
My eyes dart up to his face, needing to see him. And for a moment, I forget to pretend. I stare at his eyes.Those same ice-blue eyes that pierced through the dark in the club, searing me when my hands were bound and my body spread. They’re his. On me again.
I don’t blink.
Neither does he.
There’s a moment suspended, hot, heavy, unbreathable. His mouth curves into a knowing smirk.
“Send me the details once they confirm,” he says, turning away and slipping back into boss mode. As if nothing just passed between us.
But I’m not breathing.
“Did you know it was me?” I whisper.
He smiles, and I swear I could slap him and kiss him in the same breath.
“I did,” he says simply.
I stammer, “You—you...”
He steps in front of me. I tilt my chin up in defiance. I won’t let him have the last word. I won’t be embarrassed. But I can’t find a single sentence to say, because I have no idea whether I want to scream at him or drop to my knees.
My thoughts are like a wildfire.
He says nothing. He just leans in, eyes blazing, and kisses me.
His mouth crashes onto mine. It’s not soft. It’s hungry. Possessive in a way that sends a hot, electric pulse straight to my core. His lips are firm, commanding, and rough, causing my toes to curl inside my shoes.
His scent wraps around me as his body presses against mine. His hand grips my ponytail, tilting my head back, deepening the kiss. My knees go weak, but he’s holding me, anchoring me against his chest.
His tongue slips past my lips, tasting, teasing, coaxing mine into the kind of dance I didn’t realize I’d missed. He tastes so goddamn good. My hands fist into the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer even as part of me whispersthis is a bad idea.
But that whisper dies fast.
