The barkeep set a napkin on the bar in front of Dracule. “Excuse me, sir.Beverage?”
“No, thank you, my good man. I’m passingthrough.”
“The club’s fantastic,” Alexandra said, resuming their conversation. “What about you? Were you sufficientlyrejuvenatedthe othernight?”
His smile faltered. “Are you here for the ambiance or did someone catch youreye?”
He didn’t answer my question.With a sly smile, she sipped her wine. “Both.”
Pausing, he rolled up his sleeves, exposing a tattoo with the initials “CM” on the inside of his left wrist. After leaning his wrist on the bar, he stroked the black ink. “Someone I lost years ago.” Alexandra did not want the conversation to become personal, so she stayed quiet. “My son.” Dracule’s voice cracked, his shouldersslumped.
She’d no idea why he’d confide something so personal to a complete stranger and wondered if he was trying to garner sympathy. Either way, she felt obliged to say something. “I’m sorry for yourloss.”
He swiveled on the stool and sandwiched her hand between his. “Thank you, my dear.” He leaned towardher.
Goose bumps crawled up her arm and she tugged her hand away to sip her wine. Feeling like someone was watching her, she glanced over her shoulder and her heart skipped abeat.
Hunter’s broad physique filled the entryway and her insides turned to molten lava. Except for the black masquerade mask, he looked like he’d come straight from work. Dressed in a dark tailored suit, a white dress shirt and bold pink tie, his taste was as impressive as the apparent quality of his duds. His confidence carried him, but his swagger sent her pulse soaring. Damn if she wasn’t excited to seehim.
“Electra.” Hunter stood behind their barstools. As she swiveled toward him, she peeked up through her lashes. The possessiveness in his eyes seared her like a tinder fire, but when he eyed Dracule, his expression turned icy. “I don’t share what’s mine. Find another woman to cozy up to. This one’staken.”
Her insides tingled. Had anyone else made that bold claim, she’d have bolted. But Hunter’s words had the opposite effect. What kind of hold did this sexy stranger have overher?
Dracule slid off the stool. “No worries, fine sir. Miss Electra and I were just having a friendlyconversation.”
Francois rushed in, almost crashing into Hunter. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Dracule. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Your room is ready,s'il vousplait.”
“Lovely to have seen you,” Dracule said to Alexandra. Without addressing Hunter, heleft.
Alexandra rose. “Excuse me, Huntah. I’ll be right back.” She had to know. She followed at a respectable distance, keeping her eyes on the target. Like before, Francois ushered Dracule into the room at the end of the hallway and shut the door behind them.That’s tooweird.
She returned to the bar and eased into the stool beside Hunter. “Goodevening.”
A few seconds passed before he faced her. “Don’t let me stop you from connecting with thatman.”
Though she owed no one an explanation, she wanted—no, she needed—Hunter to know she had no interest in Dracule. Running a hand down his arm, she leaned close. His virile scent wafted in her directed and she inhaled. “I’m curious about the special treatment hereceives.”
Behind the mask, his eyes widened. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d care. Trying to keep up with theJoneses?”
She stared into his eyes, the undeniable pull tugging her closer. She desperately needed his mouth on hers, something she’d never wanted from a hookup. “He gets escort—” She pursed her lips. “It’s nothing…never mind. Let’s startover.”
He signaled to the bartender. “Vodka martini, dry,” then asked if she wanted another glass ofwine.
“No, thanks.” The devil mask he’d worn the other night had concealed most of his face, but tonight, his simple black mask showed off his squared jawline and high cheekbones. Dark whiskers covered his cheeks and chin. She loved a sexy, handsome man with a few days of facial hair. Were the hairs rough or soft? Would they burn or tickle? Caressing his face would be too intimate, so she settled for stroking his windblown hair. Even that simple touch sent her heartbeatskyrocketing.
As she fiddled with his hair, his breath hitched. Her insides thrummed with desire, her pussy slickened with need. His piercing gaze had her squirming in herseat.
When she finished, he grasped her hand and pressed her palm to his mouth. Her nipples pebbled, the ache between her legs throbbed. As much as she wanted to kiss him, she would not break that rule. Kissing was reserved for lovers. And this man was not her lover.Not mylover.
“Do I meet with your approval?” He released herhand.
God, yes. “You’ll do.” Curling her fingers around the wine glass didn’t replace the loss of histouch.
“Are you attending the tech convention?” heasked.
“Excuseme?”
Leaning in, he rested his lips against her masked cheekbone. Unable to control herself, she moaned. “We’re in the ‘Pick-Up’ suite,” he whispered. “Time tofuck.”
