rather than the courtyard, and she could see two people stealing away.
Was it Imogen? Lainey tried to get a better look, but the haze of dusk made it hard to tell.
“Are you hiding from someone?” he asked. “Or pretending to be someone else?”
“A little from column A and a little from column B.” She took another sip of her champagne. “And that’s the truth. I’m not trying to be evasive.”
“You can still be things even if you’re not trying.” His lip quirked. “Tell me, Ariel. If you’re not yourself tonight, who are you?”
He was close. So close she could smell the cologne on his skin and the bare hint of his soap underneath. He’d used the same sandalwood soap since forever. The clean, woodsy notes were burned into her brain—and never ceased to shock her with a mix of memory and fantasy.
The visuals played like a film reel in her head, flickering images from that day years ago when she’d been studying at Corinna’s place. She’d watched him strip down to his board shorts and dive into their pool. She’d imagined what would come next. Following him into the water, pulling him close, running her hand over his naked chest...
“I’m no one.”
He reached for her champagne and placed the two flutes on a table. Then he did the same with her clutch. It was like being stripped down, and her empty hands felt naked without something to do. “You are most certainly someone.”
“Maybe I’m a figment of your imagination.”
“I hope not.” His voice lowered, the sound rough yet silky. Like satin dragging over gravel.
Her breath hitched as his fingertips came to her waist, confident and firm. With the dress sucking her in, his hands looked enormous against her. He could overpower her, control her. She wanted him to.
The voice in her head shouted at her to press against him, but she wanted to draw this moment out. Stretch it like toffee and give her brain time to soak in every minute detail. This moment would have to sustain her for the rest of her life and become the thing she could cling to late at night. Her fantasy come to life. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—rush it.
“Why?” Her hands came to his chest.
Beneath the thick cotton of his dress shirt, he felt like sculpted stone. Hard and unyielding. Powerful. She had to remind herself to breathe, not to lose herself entirely and let something slip. Like his name.
“Because imagining things is a waste of time. Why spend energy on something that isn’t real?” His hand slid around her back, pulling her closer.
“Life doesn’t always measure up to a fantasy.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, thin and soft and unnatural. The rest of her body struggled to function with all the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“That’s sad, Ariel.”
“It’s the truth.” Not just that, it was the story of her freaking life. The world she’d created in her head—the world that matched the romantic stories she loved so much—was way better than reality. If real life truly lived up to her fantasies, then she wouldn’t be wearing a mask tonight.
His head lowered to hers, hovering for what felt like her life three times over, before he ended the torture. He crushed her to him, his lips landing on hers and opening in a hot kiss, delving and exploring and tasting. Making her head spin and the world shift beneath her feet.
God help her, she was done for. Ruined for all other men. For all other kisses.
His lips were soft and full, the taste of champagne and the scent of something earthy and male lingering in her senses. Heaven. Her hand found the back of his head and her fingers thrust into his hair, pulling him closer, hoping it might stop her from levitating in his arms. From floating up into the night air.
When his hand slipped up her thigh, parting the slit in her dress, her body sang out: yes, yes, yes.
She ached everywhere. In her head, in her heart, between her legs. For him. Because of him.
His palm was hot against her skin, his thumb moving in slow circles against her inner thigh. Inching higher, then retreating. Moving forward and back in a maddening, teasing dance that left her breathless with need. She tightened her grip while her tongue ran along his lower lip. She nipped at him, dragging a groan from deep in his throat. The sound rubbed her nerve endings raw, heightening her sensitivity.
He kissed her as if all of his pent-up lust and attraction and protective urges spilled forth at once. As if he’d fantasised about this for the past decade just as she had. This was everything she’d wanted, and holy hell did it live up to expectation.
“My God,” she groaned into his mouth, thrusting her body forward so their chests pressed together.
He backed her up against the railing, keeping one arm around her waist and pushing his other hand up higher so he could slide it around to cup her ass. Warm air caressed her everywhere, the tiny scrap of lace masquerading as underwear covering only the necessities. He moaned into her mouth as he grabbed bare flesh.
“You feel so damn good,” he gritted out as his teeth scraped along her neck. “And you taste like heaven.”
“Touch me,” she whispered into his ear. “Please.”
He traced the lines of her body, the curves of her hips, and felt for the heat between her legs. Pinpoints of light danced behind her shuttered lids as he finally brushed his fingers over her sex. The thin silk and lace of her underwear hid nothing. He crushed his lips against hers, kissing her rough and hard and dirty. With teeth and tongue. Ferocious. Demanding. Every cell in her body fired as if fighting for life. Fighting for survival. Fighting to hang on for that one moment of pleasure.
“Please,” she whimpered. “I need more.”
“The next step is you coming against my hand, princess.” The growl in his voice rippled over her skin. “Because once I start, I won’t stop until you’re shaking with my fingers inside you.”
“Yes,” she gasped as he toyed with the edge of her underwear, the back of his knuckle rubbing against her sex.
“Be sure.” His teeth were at her neck, scraping the line from her jaw to her collarbone.
“I am.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “I couldn’t be surer. I am so sure right now.”
He chuckled against her neck. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
“And I like a man who’s good with his hands.” She arched her back as he pushed her underwear to the side, biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out.
The last thing she wanted was to attract the attention of the people milling below. But it was hard not to let the groans fall from her mouth as he stroked her. Played with her. His fingers pressed into her, dragging the moisture from inside her sex and rubbing it over her clit. Her whole body throbbed.
“That’s it.” He dragged one of her legs over his hip to open her further. “Let me feel how wet you are.”
His hand moved against her sex, his thumb strumming the
