Page 22 of Masked Seduction

My heart pounds frantically. Boldness overtakes me, fueled by whiskey and adrenaline. “And you kiss like someone who always gets what he wants.”

His chuckle is low, amused. “Usually. But tonight I’m more interested in what you want.”

The raw hunger in his voice sends heat cascading through me. He shifts closer, thigh pressing against mine, his fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on my hip.

“Tell me. What do you want?”

I swallow hard, trying to summon words through my foggy brain. “I–I want to feel good. To let go for once.”

His eyes darken approvingly. “Then trust me to take care of you tonight.”

His words unravel the last threads of hesitation within me.

“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly. “I’ll trust you.”

He rewards me with another searing kiss, deeper this time, possessive. It makes me feel dizzy, and I surrender to him without reservation. The way he touches me, confident but tender, ignites a need in me I never knew existed.

When he finally eases back, his voice is rough with barely restrained desire. “Shall we take this somewhere more private?”

I nod, barely capable of coherent thought. “Please.”

He stands and extends his hand to me. There’s confidence in the gesture, quiet but unmistakable. I slip my hand into his, and the moment our fingers touch, my pulse stumbles.

Without a word, he leads me through a hallway lined with closed doors, each one elegant and mysterious. Soft moans drift from within—fragments of someone else’s pleasure—brushing against my skin like a whisper. My breath hitches, nerves tightening and coiling with anticipation.

At the very end of the corridor, he stops. He selects a door, opening it in a way that causes my insides to flutter. He waits for me to step in first.

The room is dim. A king-sized bed sits in the center, its dark sheets crisp and expensive-looking. Everything feels opulent and private, like the world outside doesn’t exist.

The door closes behind us with a quiet click. When he locks it, something inside me unlocks. He turns to face me, his gaze roaming over my body—hungry, certain, claiming.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, commanding without pressure.

I nod. “Yes.”

His mouth curves, showing his approval. He steps closer, his fingers brushing over my shoulders, then drifting slowly down my arms. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I plan to take my time with you.”

Then his lips are on mine—hot, sure, possessive. I melt into him, all my uncertainty dissolving beneath the press of his body and the promise in his kiss.

Something shifts, and I know I’m not walking out of this room the same woman who walked in.

CHAPTER 8

ABRAM

Her lips part beneath mine with a breathy sigh, sweet and soft and just a little bit unsure—like she’s never kissed a stranger before.

Good. I like the idea that I’m the first.

She tastes like whiskey and warm honey, and when I tilt my head and deepen the kiss, she moans—quiet, desperate, just for me. Her body presses flush against mine, all soft curves and barely contained want.

I slide one hand up her spine, the other anchoring at the small of her back, holding her there so she can feel me, feel what she’s doing to me. My cock is already hard, straining beneath my trousers, and from the way she gasps against my mouth, she feels it too.

I kiss her again. Slower. Deeper. Her hands tangle in the front of my shirt then drift upward, tentative fingers brushing the edge of my mask.

I catch her wrists gently but firmly. “Mm-mm,” I murmur, voice low and amused. “The masks stay on.”