Page 2

Chapter 2

Hannah

Six Months Ago

Between the stuffy, stale air in the cab and the mask that’s covering my nose, it’s hard to breathe. I should just get out of the car and go into the club that’s calling to me from the other side of the foggy window, but my heart is pounding.

I reach up to adjust the mask to make it a little easier to breathe and notice my hand trembling.

Damn it, Stevie.

If she hadn’t bailed on our spring break trip, I wouldn’t be sitting here alone like this right now. Maybe I should’ve just called the whole thing off when she flaked, but I needed to get away from law school for a while, needed a break from everything—including being myself.

That’s how I ended up at this club. It’s the ultimate chance to break out of the box I’ve been keeping myself in for as long as I can remember. But now that I’m here, what little courage I was feeling before seems to be leaking out of me with every breath and joining the fog on the windows.

“Look, lady, I’m happy to keep running up the meter while we’re sitting here admiring the stars but are you gonna go inside or am I gonna be the only one who gets to enjoy the beautiful view tonight?” the driver asks, his eyes locked on mine in the rearview. I see them dart to my cleavage, and it jolts me out of the stasis I’ve been in.

“Thanks for the lift,” I tell him and climb quickly out of the back seat. He puts the car in gear as soon as I close the door, but I don’t miss him checking me out on his way out of the parking lot.

With my heart fluttering in my chest, I walk to the door where two bouncers sit waiting on stools in plain black dress suits. I flash them the invite card I got, and one of them raises his eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Satin,” I say, willing my voice to stay steady.

The bouncer’s eyes linger on mine for an uncomfortable moment, but he nods and slides off his stool to walk me to the heavy metal door. It opens silently, and the bouncer gestures for me to go inside. I step through and blink until my eyes adjust, and details start to emerge from the darkness.

Candelabras flicker all around the room, their flames dancing across the blood-red walls, and red satin is draped over every surface. Hushed conversations reach my ears over the soft sound of jazz music playing from somewhere. As I move farther into the room and the shadows retreat, I realize there are far more people than I thought.

Most of them are dressed in some of the finest clothes I’ve ever seen, and all their faces are covered by some sort of mask. Most of them are standing in small groups, clutching expensive looking goblets and whispering to each other. But one group stands out thanks to the sheer amount of shining black leather they’re wearing—and because they’ve formed a circle around a couple who are going at each other hard on their hands and knees wearing nothing but their masks.

My face flames, and I turn away instinctively. Even with the club’s classy, upscale vibe, there’s no mistaking what the clientele is here for.

It’s why you came too, Hannah.

The thought doesn’t stop my heart from pounding or extinguish the flickers of arousal sparking in my belly. No one I know back in Denver has a clue I’m into kink—or that I’d be brave enough to set foot in a place like this. But here, hundreds of miles away from everyone I know, surrounded by completely anonymous strangers in masks, something is stirring to life deep inside me. Something that’s been wanting out for a long time.

I’m completely free here. No rules, no limits.

Determined not to look like I don’t have a clue what I’m doing or that I’m here just to be a lurker, I follow a man who’s wearing a crisp suit and working his way through the room confidently, his gaze taking in everything. I keep enough distance that no one will notice I’m following him, but a soft moan from somewhere to my left draws my attention and my eyes drift looking for the source.

But the man spins around abruptly, and before I realize it, I’m crashing right into him. I stumble backward, but his hands instinctively fly out and catch me by the arms. His fingers wrap around me with surprising gentleness despite the strength in his grip, and I can’t stop myself from laughing breathlessly as he helps me steady myself.

“Sorry! I guess this is what I get for paying more attention to what’s going on around me than to where I’m going,” I say, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I hesitate, then add, “This is the first time I’ve been to a place like this.”

The man doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, his amber-flecked brown eyes warm and curious behind his mask. His hands are still resting lightly on my bare arms, and his touch makes something crackle through me, like electricity finding a long-forgotten path.

“Uh, yeah, that makes two of us,” he finally says, his voice a deep rumble that seems to reverberate directly through the connection points between us. Now that I’m not at risk of falling on my face, I notice just how handsome he is. He’s almost a foot taller than me, with broad shoulders and a head of dark, wavy hair.

“Really?” I bite my bottom lip nervously, dragging it between my teeth. “It’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one. I’ve always wanted to explore kink, but this is the first time I’ve worked up the nerve. I figured there’s no better first time than when everyone’s wearing a mask and won’t remember you, right?”

I laugh softly, lifting one shoulder in a self-conscious shrug. The way he’s looking at me makes my pulse skip like a stone skimming across water, but I can’t seem to stop talking.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear either,” I add, shaking my head ruefully. “I probably tried on seven different things before I picked this dress, and I’m still not sure it’s the right choice. I wish there was some kind of step-by-step guide for this sort of thing—although actually, there probably is, somewhere. I just don’t know where to find it. And I—” I break off, wincing as I realize I’m rambling. “Oh god. I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he tells me, his voice deeper, more confident now. “You look beautiful.”

A flush creeps up my cheeks, disappearing beneath the mask, and I duck my head almost shyly, not used to such direct compliments from gorgeous strangers. “Thank you.”

I look up at him again, and for a moment, our gazes lock. Neither of us speaks. I’m acutely aware that his hands are still wrapped lightly around my upper arms. Combined with the soft moans and sighs echoing around us, I’m viscerally reminded of exactly where we are and what this place is for.

“Did you come here with someone?” I ask in a low voice, a little surprised at my own boldness.

“No,” he shakes his head quickly, still holding my gaze. “Did you?”

“No.” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “Would you like to get a drink or something? Or—” I frown, remembering his earlier change of direction and suddenly worried I’ve misread the situation. “I’m sorry. Were you leaving?”

The man hesitates for a heartbeat, and I watch the candle flames dancing in his warm eyes for what feels like an eternity before he speaks. His gaze is so intense that it sends a cascade of goosebumps across my skin.

“Actually, no,” he says, his lips curving upward at the corners. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Something in the way he says it—the certainty in his voice, the quiet confidence—makes my throat go a bit dry. Holy fuck .

I smile at him, and he reaches out to put one hand on the small of my back while he gestures to the bar across the room.

“Ladies first.”

He keeps his hand pressed lightly against my lower back as we navigate through the crowd, the warmth of his palm radiating through the thin material of my dress. It’s a protective gesture, not possessive—guiding rather than pushing. I sense him creating a subtle buffer between me and the other patrons, his body angled slightly as if to shield mine.

As we make our way past the other masked patrons, my mind races. I can’t believe this is really happening, that I’m here at this club with one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen, hundreds of miles away from my home. He pulls out a velvet-topped stool for me first and holds my hand until I’m seated, then joins me.

“What would you like to drink?” the bartender, who’s also wearing a mask, asks quietly. My mystery man looks to me to answer.

“Whiskey sour, please.”

“Make that two,” the mystery man says, then moves his hand to my knee, stroking it lightly while the bartender gets to work on our drinks.

I feel like I’m burning from the inside out, still unable to believe that this incredibly hot guy is showing so much interest in me. Normally, when a guy is this into me, it’s because he knows who I am and he’s trying to work me for a connection to my dad—but this is California. No one here has a clue who I am, and they probably wouldn’t even if I wasn’t wearing a mask.

“You seem surprised,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

“About what?”

“That I’m interested.” He tilts his head slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrug, not wanting to get into my normal life complications. “Just used to guys having ulterior motives, I guess.”

He leans in just enough that I can smell his cologne—something woodsy and clean. “The only ulterior motive I have is getting to know the woman who crashed into me while checking out a sex club.”

I laugh, grateful for his directness. “Fair enough.”

“You know, I was going to leave,” the guy starts, and his gaze drifts down to his fingers where they brush against my knee. His eyes snap back to mine. “But then I saw you. And I suddenly changed my mind.”

My heart flutters from the way he’s staring into my eyes, making me feel like I’m the only person in the room. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I ran into you.”

“Literally,” he adds, and we share a hushed laugh as the bartender slides our drinks to us.

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 my real name 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.

“Just the beginning,” he finishes, his eyes holding a promise that makes heat pool low in my belly. “If you want it to be.”

“I do,” I whisper, my tongue darting out to taste him on my lips. “I definitely do.”