Another refusal.
I had much more self-control than he could ever understand.
With every touch of his fingers, the swirl of heat we’d shared became more oppressive. He rolled two down my spine, crowding my space until the friction from the material covering the thick bulge caused a moan.
Another deep chuckle as if he’d won a point.
With very deliberate actions, he lifted one arm over my head then the other, placing my hands on a cool surface. Glass. In realizing I was standing in front of the massive set of windows, I was instantly pushed way past my comfort zone.
He’d purposely baited me with the question of whether anyone was watching our moment of shared carnal sin. Now that’s all I could think about, wondering if anyone in the hotels and closest apartments across the street were looking. If they had binoculars or a telescopic lens.
I was paying so much attention to the scenarios in my head I hadn’t realized he’d obviously walked away. There were no footsteps, no sounds of any kind other than the tickling cello strings of the haunting classical piece.
Seconds ticked away, one after the other. Slowing down as the time passed.
It was so tempting to disobey him, opening my eyes.
But I didn’t.
The addition of a grand piano, bold and vibrant.
A crescendo that matched the rapid beating of my pulse.
A powerful ending, haunting and gothic.
Then silence.
As if a record coming to an end, there were tiny scratching noises that added to the anticipation.
Then activity, footsteps approaching. Heavier this time. Almost as if coming from another person.
Yet he’d never share.
Then I sensed he was right behind me as he’d been before, only the heat radiating between us was different. As if devoid of the mask of his clothing.
How I longed to see his naked body, yet this was a game, and one that needed to remain intact through the evening. Something told me I didn’t need to know his real identity. Or for him to learn mine.
Which was likely why I’d kept the different voice in my masquerade, fearful of trusting anyone.
The weight of his attention lingered, settling over me as if a physical touch, yet more powerful. Was he deciding what to do with me? A sudden flurry of nerves threatened to ruin the evening. He wouldn’t do that. Would he?
Every inch of skin prickled.
My pulse quickened until the sound echoed in my ears.
The beats ticked on. Another musical selection.
Another moment of concern.
A single bead of perspiration tickled my upper lip.
His scent was stronger than before. Woodsy and intoxicating. Exotic spices and something more provocative.
More dangerous.
A tiny trickle of fear captivated my attention. Swirling in my stomach.
Thump. Thump.
