It wasn’t fair of Theo not to give Etta a chance to answer his question. He knew that. But people were watching and likely listening and so instead of waiting for her to speak, he was now guiding her across the room toward the back hallway where the private suites were guarded.
To his surprise, she didn’t argue or fight back against his heavy-handed behavior. She simply scurried to keep up with him as she sent him side glances past the edge of her pearl mask.
“A room,” Theo snapped, flashing a pin on his lapel that indicated the level of his membership.
“Of course.” The large man guarding the hall glanced at his sheet. “Room twelve is open. It isn’t a viewing room.”
“Perfect,” Theo grunted, and they entered the dim hallway and headed toward the end.
“I—” she began.
He held up a hand and opened the door, rushing her in. He turned the key, which didn’t actually lock the door, but indicated the room was in use. Then he faced her and tore his mask off.
“I am going to repeat my question, only with cursing because I cannot be expected to meter my language under these circumstances. What the fuck are you doing here, Bernadette?”
“How did you know it was me?” she asked, and lifted shaking hands to lower her own mask.
His breath caught as she dropped it onto the big bed beside her. Somehow the fact that they had both removed their masks made him feel naked and now they stared at each other in the quiet of the room. Well, not entirely quiet. He could hear a woman moaning in the distance, from one of the other rooms.
Apparently Etta could hear it too because she blushed and her gaze fluttered away from his. “Theo,” she said softly, her voice catching a little. “I was wearing an old dress I doubt you’d remember and my hair is done a bit more…wildly?”
Theo let his gaze flit over said hair. She was right in the use of wild. She had it all tumbled atop her head, soft and a little untamed and definitely taunting a man’s fingers to drag it all down.
She continued, “And I was wearing a mask. But if you could recognize me, I need to know how so that I can keep anyone else from doing the same when I’m here.”
He shut his eyes briefly. So she didn’t intend this little visit to be a one-time thing. And her question was a valid one. The answer would reveal too much to her, as it did to himself, but there was no avoiding it.
“I’ve known you so long, Etta, that I know you the moment you walk into any room. Back turned to me, dimly lit, with a mask and in a dress I don’t recall, I would know it was you, no matter what. I looked across that crowded room where all those people were writhing together and I knew you.” Her breath caught, her pupils dilated and her gaze briefly rolled over his entire body before she returned it to his face at last. He shook his head, trying to break this spell he didn’t want to fall under. “But that isn’t the point.”
She tilted her head. “What is the point, Theo?”
He let out a long, ragged sigh. “This is thethirdtime I’m asking this and I’m rapidly running out of patience. Why are you here?”
Her nostrils flared slightly and her shoulders trembled when she whispered, “I told you what I wanted yesterday. And you made it abundantly clear that you didn’t have advice or…or anything else for me. You turned away.”
“So you ranhere?” he asked, hating himself for creating a scenario where she might have endangered herself.
“You keep acting like this is some terrible place,” she said. “But it has rules, there are other ladies here, and if you didn’t follow me here, then you must have your own membership. I doubt you would keep that if you thought women were being harmed in these walls.”
He frowned. She had a point there. The Donville Masquerade was a good establishment, despite the shocking freedom of its gatherings. Marcus Rivers had an unshakable moral compass and took care of any villain who might get past the gate with swift efficiency. So maybe Theo’s hesitation wasn’t about safety after all.
And he hated acknowledging that to himself.
He stared at her, with her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Perhaps she didn’t fully understand, even if he had caught her in the hall watching with rapt attention to what was happening around her. But she was innocent, even if she had been married, so perhaps she needed a better education. To really understand what she was getting herself into here.
“You have this fantasy,” he said, moving toward her in a few long strides across the small room.
She backed up but he allowed her no quarter, looming over her as she crashed back against the edge of the bed. She reached a hand back to steady herself, and when her fingers sank into the plush coverlet, clenching into a fist around the fabric, his heart began to pound so hard it was difficult to hear anything else but its rushing in his ears.
He forced himself to continue, “This vague desire for the passion you see between your friends and their husbands. It’s all very romantic and gauzy and vague.” He leaned in, letting himself breathe in the scent of her without pressing his mouth to her throat. “But this place isn’t romantic, Etta. It’s a place for lovers.” He leaned back. “Forfucking.”
He expected her to turn away, to blush further, to push him even, because he was being very ungentlemanly now. But instead she reached a hand up and pressed it to his chest, her fingers fluttering there against his body as she closed whatever sliver of distance remained between them.
“Well…” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I…I want to be…fucked.”
Watching her lips form that word, feeling her touch him as she did so, it was too much. He caught her around the waist, molding her to him and his mouth came down hard on hers, claiming her kiss once more.
* * *
