Page 16 of Masked Seduction

“Oh yeah?” I tease, raising a brow.

She laughs, a wicked sound. “Yeah. I want a hot guy to sweep me off my feet, pin me against a wall, and do absolutelywhateverhe wants to me. No names. No morning-after awkwardness. Just raw, anonymous pleasure.”

“Jesus, Claire.” I laugh, half scandalized, half turned on.

“What?” She shrugs, unfazed. “You come to a place like this to live out your fantasies.”

I take a sip, trying to steady the strange current inside me. It’s like something dormant has begun to stir. Like I’ve been handed a key to a room I didn’t know existed in me.

Claire chats away happily, and just as she bursts into laughter, two men slide uninvited into our booth. They’re both in their early thirties, one wearing a suit with rumpled lapels and beer breath, the other with greasy hair slicked back, too many buttons undone, and a necklace that looks like it came from a gas station.

How the hell didtheyget in?

“Ladies,” the greasy one says, slurring a bit. “You look lonely.”

“We’re good,” I say politely, setting my drink down. “Why don’t you find your own table?”

They laugh like I’m flirting.

I glance up at the mezzanine.

He’s gone. The mysterious, magnetic masked man is no longer watching me. I search for him subtly, trying not to be obvious.

Nothing. A twinge of disappointment hums in my gut.

My eyes scan the crowd. Maybe I imagined how intense his gaze felt. Maybe it was just the atmosphere.

“C’mon,” the first one says, forcing me back into the uncomfortable moment. “Don’t be like that. We just wanted to say hi. This one—” he nods toward me, then glances back to his friend “—has legs for days. I’m a leg man.”

I press my lips together. Claire gives him a look, trying to play nice. “We were just catching up, actually.”

“Even better. We’ll join you.” He leans in. “Double date.”

I try again. “We’d prefer to sit alone. Thanks.”

The greasy one doesn’t move. His eyes drop to my chest, lingering there. “Don’t be a bitch.”

Something flares in me, and I shift my weight, square to him. “I’mnot interested. Leave.”

His face hardens. “You’re lucky anybody in this place is showing interest in you,” he mutters, grabbing my wrist.

I slowly look down at his hand. “You’ve got about two seconds to let go.”

He pulls me toward him. “You need a little attention. Maybe then you wouldn’t walk around acting like you’re hot shit.”

I yank my hand back, seething. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He laughs and gestures vaguely toward my hips.

I open my mouth to tell him off—loudly—but before I can speak, a hand slams down on his shoulder. Hard.

He startles, jerking slightly.

It’s none other than the masked man who’d been staring at me.

Now he’s here. And he’s not screwing around.

CHAPTER 6