His fingers closed around mine. He was wearing black gloves—embroidered with gold thread, just like his suit—but I could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric as he guided me down toward the end of the room where people were dancing. His grip was just firm enough to make my heart beat faster against my ribs, and I tipped my head back and drank the remaining contents of my goblet as we walked, hoping the alcohol would release the last of my inhibitions and grant me a helping of uncharacteristic grace. The floral sweetness filled my head, mingling with theshivery-ness that still rippled across my skin, making me feel like I was on the edges of a dream.
A burgundy-wrapped member of the staff appeared beside me, taking the empty goblet out of my hand the moment the last drop had disappeared. She slipped it out of my grip without even causing me to miss a step.
When we reached the dance floor, the man stepped around to face me, then placed his other hand on my side. I prayed he couldn’t feel the quiver that ran through me as his fingers curled around my waist.
“I’ve never done this before,” I confessed as he guided me forward. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“Everyone knows how to dance,” he replied, his rumble warm and intimate. “But if you miss a step, it will be my pleasure to guide you.”
The way his deep voice curled so charmingly around the wordsguide yousent another delicious tremor through me, and I found myself leaning into his arms, falling into the rhythm of the music as he began to twirl me around.
This is why Esmer keeps telling me to get laid, I thought as I let him pull me into a turn. I was so starved for sexual contact that I was falling to bits at the first touch from a man. That constantshiveryfeeling and the very strong drink probably weren’t helping, nor was the confidence that came along with being masked and anonymous—and I was beginning to see how it all might easily turn to recklessness. But for the moment, at least, I saw nothing wrong with indulging myself a little.
To my pleasant surprise, I wasn’t a total klutz on the dance floor. I’d never been especially graceful, but in this stranger’s arms, it felt like I was floating on a summer breeze, flitting from cloud to cloud, spinning in midair.
I risked a glance up to see if he was suitably impressed with my dancing, and I found his blue eyes shining down on me, dazzling and sharp. Immediately, the fluttering in my stomach intensified.
“So…” I said, attempting to ground myself against theshivery-ness that had spread all the way down my body. “Do you come here often?” I winced as soon as the cliché left my lips. “To these parties, I mean. This obviously isn’t the first one. Or maybe it is, and I just missed the memo about ball gowns.” He didn’t respond, so naturally I babbled on. “I mean, it just feels like everyone else here knew what to expect and what to wear. And I didn’t. This is my first time being invited to something like this, in case that isn’t obvious. But I get the impression that this isn’tyourfirst time.” My eyes moved over the elaborate embroidery on his suit and back up to his detailed mask. He was so much taller than me that I had to crane my neck to do it.
He spun me past the windows, and the movement drew me closer to him, right up against the hard, muscled planes of his body, from his broad chest all the way down.
“No, this isn’t my first time,” he said. It was hard to read the expression in his eyes—was that amusement, or condescension, or something else?
“That explains why you’re so appropriately dressed,” I commented, admiring the way the cut of his jacket emphasized the breadth of his muscled shoulders. “I don’t know many men who could pull off a velvet suit, but it suits you.”
“Does it?” This time there wasdefinitelyamusement in his deep voice.
I realized with a start that I was coming on to the guy, and I silently chastised myself for letting that drink go to my head.
“I didn’t mean… What Imeantto say was that I admire your commitment to the theme. Most guys my age wouldn’t be caughtdeadin something like that. Most of them are more interested in smoking weed and playing video games than dressing up for a masquerade ball.” I didn’t really hear the words until they were already out of my mouth, and then I found myself internally cringing once more. “Not that I have anything against video games. Or weed. And I didn’t mean to suggest that you should be embarrassed to wear that suit…I mean, I think I’ve made it pretty clear that you look really good and…” I let the words trail off, since that seemed like a better idea than continuing to dig myself into a hole.
To my shock, he didn’t appear to be the least bit offended by my ramblings. In fact, I could swear he pulled me closer, his grip tightening on my waist. I was pressed so snugly against him by that point that I was sure he could feel my heart careening against my breastbone.
But he didn’t say anything, which was both a relief and incredibly aggravating.
What would Esmer do?I wondered. Obviously I’d never seen Esmer pick up a guy, but I knew from her stories that she didn’t have any trouble doing so. She was one of those rare nerds who also excelled in the social arena, and that made her a goddess in my eyes.
Esmer would probably tell me to let the guy lead the conversation, I told myself. But what if the guy showed no interest in talking?
Instead, the stranger seemed content to simply dance, holding me much closer than was necessary—not that I was complaining. I could feel him studying me as we twirled, and my skin went hot from my forehead all the way down my neck. The hand he’d placed on my waist crept over to my lower back, his fingers leaving trails of heat through the fabric of gloves and gown.
I risked a glance up. I’d braced myself for the intensity I found burning in his eyes, but there was also something else there, something wholly unexpected—something almostbleak. As if there were a gnawing sort of emptiness hiding behind the intoxicating charm at the surface.
There was a sharp pang of compassion in my stomach, followed swiftly by curiosity. What could give a man eyes likethat?
That recklessness I’d been so worried about was bubbling up, responding to the depths in the man’s eyes and the increased intimacy of his touch. The hand I had placed on his shoulder began to drift slowly toward his neck. I’d just noticed the thick, sandy-colored hair peeking out from behind his mask, just brushing against the top of his embroidered collar, and I wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
“I don’t even know your name,” I said, forgetting that I was trying to keep my mouth shut.
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” he said, dipping his head closer so that I was the only one who could hear his rumble. His lips curled up in a delicious grin. “That’s why we’re all wearing these masks.”
He was right, of course. This wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting without the anonymity. Still, I longed for a peek at the face behind that lion.
Before I could press the issue, though, the waltz descended into its final strains. To my disappointment, the stranger slowed us as well, apparently deciding that one dance was enough. The room seemed suddenly cool when we were no longer pressed against each other, and a part of me felt like we were still spinning round and round—like the way you can still feel the waves hours after you’ve been in the ocean.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. He touched his mouth to the back of my fingers, sending a fresh quiver up my arm.
“Thank you as well.” Again I fought the awkward urge to curtsy. I started to step away, but he still held my hand in his, his grip tightening in a refusal to release me.
