Masked Read online

  He had seen it all.

  But damn it, he couldn’t have it all. Nobody could. She’d divvied her life into clean compartments for a reason—a damn good one. If one of the sections collapsed, the others would remain intact. Nothing to get hurt. Everything safe, by the rules. That had even explained her initial fascination with BDSM and submission. She could dress pretty, follow the rules, obey the orders, and get a prize. Hell, the best prize of them all.

  But now she knew the truth.

  It was about so much more than that.

  Too much.

  The broadside hit again. Her senses rebelled, unable to process anything more. Sexy’s indrawn breath told her that he noticed, too—deepening her panic. She couldn’t let him get in the verbal kicker again. He’d say something magical and captivating, and then add a soft kiss or ten to ensure her bones were fully liquefied…

  And she’d never get out of tonight without half her soul missing.

  “I’m getting prune fingers in here,” she blurted. “I’d better start thinking of—”

  going home.

  The words were ditched as soon as the man lifted her from the water, turned her in his arms, and swathed her in a huge towel. Moving with smooth confidence, he carried her to a wide chaise-style bed tucked into an alcove near the pool. A mountain of gold and blue pillows was arranged against the headboard. Near the foot, another ornate serving tray supported more food—correction, one of the best chocolate selections she’d ever seen—along with bottles of the flavored fitness water she liked so much.

  As Sexy settled her against the pillows, patterns of light were reflected from the pool, dancing over his sculpted chest and biceps—boulders in shades of aqua and white. She absorbed the sight greedily, barely resisting the urge to join those lucky light rays and fondle every inch of him.

  Barely.

  Resisting.

  He was so damn mesmerizing…

  What harm would it be to trace the edge of just one perfect pectoral? Embrace the bulge of just one sinewy shoulder?

  Just one? And what alternate universe are you living in, Lesange, that you think you’ll stop there?

  He became her knight in half-soaked leathers, saving her from herself by climbing in for the perfect spoon instead. Nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder, he curled up one hand to finger-comb her hair. His other hand sneaked beneath the towel, lightly stroking the curve of her thigh.

  It was a textbook finish to quite possibly the best night of her life—doubling her guilt for letting a frustrated huff break free.

  “Okay,” the griffin murmured. “Talk to me.” He synched up his touches, matching the massages of her scalp to his fingertips’ spider act on her hip.

  Here it was. Her open door of opportunity. She just hadn’t expected it that wide. His insistence on the mask, on the voice alteration, on using nicknames for her most of the time, and even the burner phone he’d used to call her from yesterday—yeah, she’d checked in spite of herself—none of those factors were huge screams for the Great Tess Inquisition. In short, she’d come to this part of things completely unprepared.

  May I phone a friend, please? She smiled in spite of herself, wondering exactly what Dan would say about all of this.

  “Rose?”

  She tilted her head, responding to his undertone of alarm, discernible despite the voice disk. “I’m just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About how to broach the subject that I barely know you.”

  She didn’t anticipate that would surprise him. Sure enough, neither of his hands faltered. He pressed closer behind her. “Do you really believe that?”

  Every syllable he uttered was like a kiss of completion. Every breath he pushed against her neck was matched by one from her own lungs. Still, she persisted, “I don’t even know your real name.”

  “And I know yours?”

  He had a point—at least halfway. She tried to push away. He locked his arm around her waist. She capitulated, facing the futility of resistance. Okay, so there was the newness factor about feeling up an eight-pack with her ass. There had to be some scientific value to the world in that research. She was willing to take the step for humanity.

  “I…I work for the government,” she stated. “I have to be careful. I rely on the trust and respect of others to get my job accomplished. While my free-time choices should have no bearing on that—”

  “It’s not always the case,” he finished for her in a deep mutter. “I understand.”

  Just like that, he’d cracked open his door a little more. “You do, don’t you?” she returned.

  Was that why he needed total anonymity? Was his day job just as intense as hers? Maybe more so? Was he a high-ranking officer from Nellis? An elected city official? A famous performer from one of the shows on the Strip? Even in Vegas, public perception was a huge quotient of acceptance. Kink was still “wrong” to so many. In short, one could sin in the City of Sin as long as they were nobody.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered. “This is just strange for me. Sharing what we’ve shared, twice now—”

  “Which won’t change in importance if we exchange birth-certificate details,” Sexy interjected.

  “You’re right.”

  Obeying a sudden impulse, she tilted her head back, seeking his kiss. He obliged readily, forming his mouth to hers though keeping tongues totally out of the picture. Even so, her core awakened for him again. Her tunnel constricted in need. Unbelievably, it was one of the hottest kisses they’d ever shared.

  When he finally pulled up, she gulped and then rasped, “Damn.”

  “Yeah,” he grated back. “Damn.”

  “That really didn’t stop me from wanting to know everything about you.”

  He chuckled as she rolled back over, letting his lips continue out along her shoulder. “Nor I you, sweet woman. Nor I you.”

  Another sigh escaped. This time, it was pushed by much different emotions. Fulfillment but longing. Satiation but thirst. Feeling complete yet utterly broken.

  She swallowed. Clenched her teeth against the stings behind her eyes. When Sexy felt the change in her, accommodating by pulling her yet tighter, she fought the urge to elbow him in the gut for it.

  “Don’t,” she begged. “Please. Don’t…”

  “Ssshhh.”

  “No.” Damn it, now her voice cracked. “I don’t want to ssshhh. I don’t want to have to.”

  “I know.” He scraped her hair a little harder. His arm cinched her waist tighter. “I know.”

  Screw it. She let the salty rush come, flowing over her cheeks. “This is it, isn’t it?” she charged. “With us. With this. You’re not going to call again or even come back to Catacomb again. That’s the reason you arranged for the Cadillac aftercare. The pool, the fruit, the chocolate. We’re not going to do this again.”

  She had a mental list of his possible reactions, but the little push it took to get her on her back, fully beneath him, wasn’t one of them. As he braced himself over her on his elbows, Tess stared past the mask, into the intensity of his eyes.

  Finally, he muttered, “Do you think that would be a good idea?”

  She didn’t speak the answer. She already knew it—and saw that he did too. Tonight’s “play” session was horridly named. None of it had been play for either of them. Every touch, word, command, and obeisance had been another drop of glue in an unmistakable bond. Even tonight, that glue had become part of her blood…that was thick in every tear on her cheeks now.

  Tess wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down against her. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

  “No.” Though he growled it before her final word was done, his throat clutched on the sound. He repeated it, just as broken, while hammering the opposite effect with the thrust of his hips between hers. “Not yet,” he rasped.

  “Not yet,” she echoed, letting the towel fall free and her thighs spread open. The fly of his leathers was taut again, the button he�
�d left undone now a wonderful scratch against her abdomen. “Please.”

  “I’m here,” he told her. The slash of his zipper was as perfect a sound as the pool’s lapping waters. “I’m here.”

  And then he was.

  Sliding on another condom and then moistening it with the juices from her needy folds. Making her shudder again as he teased the broad head along her erect clit—and then slid it deeper, deeper still, nudging her open more, more…

  Then filling her as no one had before.

  As, quite possibly, no one might ever again.

  In ways she didn’t even want to contemplate.

  Not now.

  Damn it…not ever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Master?”

  The little redhead who’d just entered Dan’s living room directed the request over her shoulder at the tall, tawny-haired man with whom he’d just broken from a gruff guy hug.

  “Yes, my beauty?” Levi called in his smooth Georgia accent, reminding Dan it had been too damn long since he’d been back home. Maybe it was because he realized that he’d soon be seeing more of Atlanta than he cared to. In another year, maybe two, Dad would be officially resigning the helm of Colton Steel—to him. This place, with the ranch-style layout and the desert colors he loved so much, would only be his vacation home.

  His chest clenched. His gut twisted.

  Focus on the moment. Not the future, not the past. Just now, goddamnit, and how good it feels to just be living it.

  Seven years of fieldwork in the CIA had taught him to carve the mantra into his brain—especially after the mission that had changed his life.

  Two nights of being inside Tess Lesange, and it was razed to nothing.

  He’d start the engraving all over again tonight. At least he’d try, considering the circumstances. The resolve enforced the smile on his lips as little Bella Stratham turned to them, hands braced on her hips, exposing the green-and-gold tattoos that swirled up both her arms. The same colors were woven through her casual sweater dress, worn over heeled suede boots. She gave his buddy, Levi Cowell, a scowl of such domestic ire, nobody would’ve guessed they weren’t wifie and hubbie or even brother and sister.

  In many ways, their relationship went deeper than either. They were submissive and Dominant, one of his favorite couples from the Shadowlands club back home.

  Okay, technically not home home, but Tampa wasn’t a long hop in the company jet. Using the thing had always made him wince a little, until having a compelling reason to use it. He’d never thought that cause would arise until a couple of years ago, when taking a brief leave from the Agency to help Dad handle an issue with a Colton Steel ex-employee. Levi had been called in to supervise extra security measures for the Colton HQ buildings and became a friend Dan would value for the rest of his life. Bonded initially by their Georgia roots and mutual quest for the perfect slice of peach pie, the friendship moved deeper when they discovered another mutual interest: the BDSM dynamic. Levi introduced Dan to Dominants who helped him understand his attraction to the darker side of kink, as well as a few submissives who shared the same passions.

  There’d been some extraordinary sessions with those wonderful women, times he’d never forget—but they, and those nights at the Shadowlands, were just memories now. None of it resonated in the core of him, the crater that had yet to be flooded with the fulfillment of bringing a woman every drop she needed from the beauty of Power Exchange too. He’d begun comparing himself to a loser Don Quixote, chasing a Dulcinea who simply didn’t exist—until the session last Friday night that had changed everything.

  Focus. On. The. Moment.

  Isabelle—Bella to everyone except her parents and the IRS—certainly helped on that level, twisting her lips and blurting, “Didn’t you tell me Dan wasn’t seeing a woman right now?”

  Dan scowled. “I’m not.” He glanced at Levi, who gave an urbane shrug. “Why?”

  Bella looked around the room again. “Oh, I get it. So you’re seeing a man.”

  “Excuse the hell out of me?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it, Dan.”

  “No shit. But why the hell do you think—”

  “Please. Candles on the mantel? Fresh flowers everywhere? Napkin rings and bread plates on the table?”

  She finished with a glower, emphasizing her own burn scar, a silvery path that disappeared down the left side of her neck. It reminded Dan why she could get away with this sass with him. He owed her. She’d reached out at one of the darkest times of his life, after the docs had told him much of the burn damage on his face would be permanent. While Tess had been there as a friend for his heart, Bella had been there for his head, coordinating with Tess through hours’ worth of video chats. The woman’s unique mix of sarcasm and pragmatism had been invaluable. Unlike others, she’d never made him feel like a victim, because he wasn’t one. Nobody had forced him to run into that burning building. While he’d been on crisis autopilot, thinking only of getting those nurses out alive, he’d also been jacked on his typical idiotic swagger. He’d dodged bullets, escaped battle zones, and been catching the bad guys for years. What the hell was the issue with a burning building?

  The answer to that had come the hard way. As every mirror on the planet reminded him, every single day.

  Bella’s huff yanked him back to the moment. “Don’t play coy, Colton. Where is she?”

  Levi cocked a brow at his woman. Though the guy had ditched his typical dark suit for a fitted blue sweater and black casual pants, he still looked ready to commandeer a tank if he had to. “Sugar, it is Thanksgiving.”

  “Thanksgiving weekend.” She nodded toward the appetizer plates on the coffee table. “The Food Channel’s already moved on to recipes with leftovers, but this guy has crackers arranged like a flower.”

  Levi stepped toward his subbie. Looked at the table. Raised a brow again. “She’s right. You have a cracker flower.”

  Dan chuckled. Stretched a finger along his temple. “All right. You got me. Her name is Olga. I found her on Craigslist for a song. They have a new category there—Betty Crockers for Crabby Bachelors. She’s been great. Doesn’t exactly look like Betty Crocker, though. If you can ignore the wart on her chin and the hair in her ears—”

  “Watch it, pal. You’re on thin ice there.”

  He didn’t have to worry about a good comeback for Tess’s interruption. Bella’s squeal handled the job fine. She nearly tackled Tess, making him damn glad his little rose had kicked off her own heels in favor of bare feet beneath her pink, retro-inspired jumpsuit. As the two redheads enjoyed their first in-person hug, Dan joined Levi in snaking a couple of “petals” from the cracker flower.

  He stopped midchew when confronted by Bella’s fresh glare.

  “Damn it, Colton. You didn’t tell me she’s your secret weapon!”

  “It’s called a surprise, fireball.” He winked while using the nickname he’d coined for her during his recovery—though this time, he was able to use it with affection instead of animosity. There were times when he’d been none too pleased about the camaraderie the little brat had formed with Tess, even via video chats, considering their “partnership” usually ended up in schemes for combating his dismal mood swings. But there was simply no way to tell a pair of determined women that his idea of “constructive therapy” didn’t include a pedicure, a trip to the Le Chat Coffee Bar for coffee and kittens—literally—and then a stop at the chocolate shop on the way home. There’d been similar excursions, but that one had pretty much topped the emasculation scale.

  Right now, every moment of the torture had been worth it.

  Because right now, Tess needed Bella more than he did.

  Thanks to the mental bullshit he’d subjected her to. For a second time.

  For the last time, asshole. You told her as much two nights ago—and you’ll adhere to that word, no matter how agonizing it is to even be in the same room as her now.

  As in, the compulsions he fought agains
t every single second. The twitches in his fingers to reach for her. The craving in his chest to have her smashed against it. The strain of his cock, still remembering the perfection of her hot pussy…

  “Well, then, pour me a tall glass of awesomely surprised,” Bella gushed, “and don’t leave out the cute umbrella.”

  Levi wrapped an arm around his woman, kissing the top of her head. “Funny girl.”

  He didn’t try to make the words public, though he certainly didn’t keep them a secret. The man didn’t fathom how his action turned Bella and him into the giant white elephants in the room, positioned there between Tess and Dan. With every syllable of the adoration, Tess’s gaze glittered brighter, becoming the damn Northern Lights of pain. And Dan had no choice but to watch her, confronting the mess he’d made, choking down crackers to keep from calling himself a jackass out loud.

  Want to look at the positive here? At least she’s not crying.

  Not yet.

  But if she does, you’ll be here this time.

  Because that was going to make up for lying to her? For giving her everything she’d ever dreamed of in a D/s dynamic and then ripping it away because of that same lie?

  He hadn’t deserved her before this whole stunt. He sure as hell didn’t deserve her now.

  He just wished like hell that his heart, soul, and spirit would get the message too.

  While he indulged that mope, Levi stepped over and extended a hand toward Tess. “Since certain people have apparently turned into crackers, I’ll do the honors. Good evening. I’m Levi Cowell.”

  A smile spread across Tess’s lips, emphasizing the heart God must’ve patterned her face after. “You know that I already know that, right?”

  “Irrelevant. Good manners are the door to beautiful opportunities.” He kissed Bella’s head as punctuation, indicating exactly what fit his definition of “beautiful.”

  “Very well, then.” Tess laughed. “Lovely to meet you. Therese Lesange. But please call me Tess.”

  “As they say where I come from, whatever the lady wants.”

  Her grin widened, emphasizing the rosy hue spreading across her cheeks. Dan was damn near mesmerized by it. That same color filled her breasts when she was aroused in all the right ways, on the brink of begging for more. Dan wondered if they were flushing like that even now, even subconsciously, as a result of Levi’s effortless charm.