Page 15 of Masked Seduction

Claire turns to me. “God, I’m so ready for some fun.”

“What kind of fun?” I ask.

She shrugs, grinning. “Last time I was here, I had a boyfriend. Tonight? Who knows.”

I imagine her getting scooped up within minutes, leaving me behind to fumble around this adult playground on my own. I hate that the thought even crosses my mind, but I’m not like her. She’s slender, fearless, magnetic. I’m curvy and cautious,and every time a man’s eyes slide over me, I wonder if they’re judging.

Still, my skin is humming, my thighs pressed tightly together beneath my dress. Something inside me stirs, hungry and unsure.

We settle onto the high stools at the bar. I need a drink—badly. Something to cool the heat licking at my spine. And something to shut up the voice in my head that keeps asking,What are you really looking for tonight, Jenna?

We order some drinks. They take the edge off just enough.

The bar is a show in itself. A few seats down, a woman with gleaming brown skin straddles her partner's lap. They kiss like they’ve forgotten anyone else exists. His hand disappears beneath the slit of her dress and her breath catches—soft but audible. Nothing is exposed, but the intimacy is unmistakable. Her hips lift slightly, a stutter in her rhythm, and my body responds with a sharp ache low in my belly.

At a nearby table, a woman kisses two men—alternating between them like she’s trying to decide her favorite flavor. One whispers something into her ear and they all laugh. She stands, flanked by the pair, and they walk together toward a hallway draped in velvet curtains.

Claire follows my gaze and nudges me. “Want to follow them?”

“I was just… watching,” I reply, cheeks warm.

I’m not just watching. I’m imagining. I’m wondering what it would be like to be that bold. That wanted.

And then I feel a prickle on the back of my neck. Like someone’s watching me.

I glance up toward the floor above. There, at a sleek black booth on a mezzanine overlooking the main floor, sits a man in a tailored suit. His mask is elegant and severe, covering most of his face in glossy black, save for his mouth and a sharp jawline framed by a short, dark beard.

His eyes are locked on mine. Unflinching. Piercing.

My breath hitches. He doesn’t look away.

Something about his gaze—steady, unreadable, intense—sends a flutter straight to my core. He nods once. I smile back, automatic and unsure, heart thudding.

I want to look away.

I don’t.

Even from here, I can tell his body is fit. His shoulders are broad, his posture relaxed but controlled, like a man used to being in command.

Would a man like that be into someone like me? I glance around. The women here are model-thin, draped in barely-there clothes, walking with the kind of confidence I’m still working on possessing. I shift in my seat, aware of the curve of my thighs against the barstool, the swell of my chest in this tight black dress. I’m probably not his type.

But he’s still watching me.

Claire leans over and grabs my hand. “Let’s find a table before we get claimed.”

“Claimed?”

She rolls her eyes, grinning. “You know what I mean. We don’t have to settle for the first guys who hit on us.”

I laugh, grateful for the distraction. For her. But as she pulls me toward the low-lit lounge seating beyond the bar, I glance back.

The man’s still watching.

I wonder what it would feel like to be the one he chooses.

The bass thrums through my chest, syncing with the slight buzz in my veins. I swirl the ice in my glass, feeling the fizz and warmth of the drink bloom in my chest. Claire leans in, hair tumbling forward, eyes sparkling.

“God, I didn’t think I knew what I wanted tonight, but I do now.”