by London James
Truth be told, I’ve never made a reservation at a hotel. That’s one of those things that is always done for me. Even when I’m traveling on my own, I show up at my destination with a room already waiting for me. It’s not that I think there’s some magic to it, but not having that be part of my responsibilities means that it didn’t occur to me to do it before leaving for Vidalia Isle. Fortunately, Hometown Bed And Breakfast had one room left. Considering it is the main reason I came here to the island, it’s convenient to not have to roam around looking for somewhere to stay.
I’m questioning my initial decision to willingly subject myself to a ball that isn't required of me, but then I see her. She’s several yards away, separated from me by the other guests sweeping around the room. Her dark purple gown hugs the curves of her body, revealing just enough of her smooth cleavage and the curvature of her graceful neck to make my mouth water. Her dark hair is coiled up and away from her shoulders, while peacock feathers and shimmering ribbons twist around her silky strands of hair. She turns away, revealing the ends of all the ribbons that are trailing down her bare back. They reach all the way down to the tightly corseted bodice situated above her deeply dipped waist. A second later, she glances back over her shoulder at me. Her mask conceals most of her face, but her full red lips glisten as she touches them briefly with the tip of her tongue.
As I start to take a step toward her, someone bumps into me, and I turn to look at whomever it is. A man holding two flutes of champagne looks at me apologetically from behind a mask covering half his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was concentrating so hard on not dropping these things that I didn’t even see you there.”
“No worries,” I say.
He focuses his eyes back on the glasses and continues across the room. When I look back toward the mysterious woman, it appears that she is already gone. My eyes scan the crowd in search of her. The music gets more spirited, drawing guests onto the dance floor and making it harder to search for her. But that’s not going to stop me. Skirting the edge of the space where couples are dancing in a variety of different styles, I plunge deeper into the space. I’m thankful for the mask that covers my face as I weave through the crowd.
Even when I’m a few inches away from other people, no one seems to recognize me. It’s a relief to not have to contend with that tonight, especially now that my intentions are set on the woman in the purple dress. I have no delusions of it lasting very long. It’s only a matter of time before the people either start recognizing me, or the news of my visit trickles its way to the island, and they scope me out. Until that happens, I’ll ride the wave of anonymity.
Ducking and weaving through the crowd, I search relentlessly for her ruby-colored smile. When I finally see it through a gap in the dancers, the woman is alone. Her fingertips trail aimlessly along the edge of a white pumpkin in the center of a table. She stares down at the pumpkin for a while, but it's as if she can feel me looking at her because her eyes lift up and meet mine. Her lips curve in a slight smile, and I nod as I begin to smile, too.
An older woman in a fluffy pink dress rushes up to the woman I cannot take my eyes off of; the human embodiment of a puff of cotton candy takes hold of both of her hands, spinning her around and grinning at her. The music and voices around me are too loud to hear what Cotton Candy is saying to her, but the young woman smiles at her fondly. A hand clamps down on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around and away from the woman I never want to stop looking at.
“How are you enjoying the ball?”
The man grins at me like we’re old friends, but I know I’ve never seen him before.
“It’s… lovely,” I respond cautiously.
There have been many times where I’ve encountered people for what I thought was the first time, only to find out later I’d met them before. It’s a side effect of my role, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward. This could be the moment when my anonymity in Vidalia Isle ends, and it would be best to keep it as low-key as possible, which means not admitting to the fact that I don't know who he is.
While some people take well to the fact that I see hundreds of faces on a regular basis and some are bound to slip through the cracks of my memory, other people aren’t as understanding. A few times before, I have found myself getting swept up into an epic temper tantrum of slighted feelings.
“Yeah,” the man says with a contented sigh. He looks around at the decorations hung up around the barn. "The ladies outdid themselves, didn’t they?” His eyes spin as far around the room as they can without requiring him to physically turn, and then they drop back to my face. “Are you enjoying your visit to Vidalia Isle?” he asks me.
I try to look over my shoulder without the man noticing. I don’t want to lose track of the woman again, but if there’s a chance of him recognizing me, I don’t want to create a scene. The last thing I need is him thinking I’m being rude.
“From what I’ve seen so far, I like it,” I tell him. “But it’s only my first day.”
“I thought so. You’ve got that tourist look about you.”
Perfect. He doesn’t know who I am. He’s just part of the welcome wagon.
“Yep, that’s me.” I pat him on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to keep looking around. Maybe grab a drink.”
He nods and starts to say something, but before he gets his mouth open, I turn and slip between people in the direction of the last place I spotted the young woman. Yet again, she has disappeared. This is starting to feel like a hunt, and I’m determined to find my treasure.
Finally, I see her through the crowd. Her sweet red lips are no longer smiling. Instead, they are drawn down at the corners in a tense frown. One arm is behind her, and when a large man wearing a vibrant yellow, feathered mask steps out of the way, I see it’s because someone has hold of her.
The man has a tight grip on her wrist and seems to be trying to pull her to him. His mouth is moving, but the sounds of the ball absorb his words, so I can’t tell what he’s saying to her. He doesn’t relent when she snaps back at him, and a protective instinct rushes up inside me. I force my way across the floor toward them. She’s managed to pull her arm free of him by the time I get close, but the other man isn’t giving up.
Putting myself in between them, I face the man, squaring my chest to him and blocking his way to her. She steps behind me, seemingly relieved to be out of his line of vision. I don’t understand why she’s alone. I thought she was standing with other people when I first saw her, but now she’s on her own.
Not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable than she obviously already is, I resist the urge to pick the man up, throw him over my shoulder, and toss him out the door. Instead, I lean closer to him.
“Leave,” I say in a low tone, just loud enough for him to hear the seriousness in my voice, but not so loud that others will notice.
He doesn’t resist, but rather tries to look around me in hopes of seeing the woman. I glare at him like I mean business, and it causes him to immediately back away. I wait until he slinks out of sight before turning back around to her. She isn’t right behind me, but thankfully, I don’t have to go on a long search for her this time. I find her a few steps away, standing by the edge of a refreshment table.
One of her hands rests on the edge of the table as if to stabilize herself, while the other hand lifts a glass to her lips. She turns around and lowers the glass without taking a sip. Her eyes meet mine, and heat smolders between us. My body wants hers. I’ve never heard her voice. I don’t know her name. But it doesn’t matter. The draw I feel to her is an intense, primal craving that I need to fulfill.
Her fingers relent easily as I take the glass from them. Not taking my eyes off her, I bring the glass to my lips and let some of the effervescent champagne glide across my tongue. I dip my fingers into the glass and withdraw one of the plump red pomegranate seeds dancing in the bubbles.
Her lips part as I bring it closer to her mouth, letting me s
lip the seed onto her tongue. Setting the glass on a waiter’s tray as he passes, I offer her my hand. Her long, slender fingers are cool and soft as they rest on my palm so I can guide her to the dance floor.
We melt into the midst of dozens of others dancing, and although we’re surrounded by people, my focus is totally on her. I rest her hand on my shoulder and let my fingertips glide down her arm, continuing down her body and along the sides of her ribs. My hand comes to rest on the small of her back, and I draw her closer to me so that the front of her body just grazes mine.
My other hand takes hers, and I guide us in a dance.
Chapter Four
Avery
I don't know how I got here, but I'm not arguing with it. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I have it in me to pull away. From the moment the man in the red mask stepped into the room, he was all I could think about. He has transfixed me, and I can't help but be drawn to him. Without a word, he has me captivated, and I'm fully under his spell.
This is exactly where I want to be. His strong hands hold me close to him with the same confidence and strength that sent Chad retreating like a scared little boy, and I feel safe and unguarded even though I don’t know who he is.
My mind has already given up trying to identify him, but then his fingertips touch my lips, and the sweetness of the pomegranate seed bursts like a sinful promise on my tongue. It doesn’t matter who he is. His mask shrouds him in mystery, entangling me in a way where I can’t bring myself to step away. The music that has been drifting through the space no longer seems like its own entity. Instead, the melodies respond to the man holding me in his arms, the movements of his body creating the notes as he glides me effortlessly across the floor.
My heart pounds in response to his hand holding mine, and his touch on my back is beyond exhilarating. His fingertips slide up just far enough to slip over the back of my dress and brush my skin. It sends a shiver along my body, and my belly tightens. I’ve never felt my body respond this way, and his touch is intoxicating.
His head lowers very slowly, and suddenly, his lips settle on the side of my neck. I lose myself in the sultry music, the sway of his body, and the touch of his kiss melding into sheer, visceral pleasure. There’s only one neglected sense, but he soon completes the immersion, dipping the tip of his tongue between my lips. He does so just far enough to sweep the tip of his tongue over my top lip, like he’s sampling my taste.
He closes the space between us even more, and he catches my bottom lip in his teeth, scraping them over the delicate skin just enough for the sensation to draw me out of a velvety fog. His hand slides up and along my spine. From there, it passes between my bare shoulder blades and ultimately rests on the back of my neck. Cupping it firmly, he tilts my head back to kiss the front of my throat, followed by a soft peck on the tender underside of my chin, bringing his mouth back to my lips. His mouth hovers just close enough for his breath to slip between my lips, so it feels like I’m drawing it into mine with every breath I take.
I’m aware of the people around us. Most of Vidalia Isle is here on the dance floor with us, but I don’t care. I’m too hungry for more of the sweet champagne taste of his mouth, as well as the shivery, uncontrollable rush of this need for him, to care if people are watching us. I’ll hide behind my mask and soak in the indulgence of pretending I’m someone else, if only for the evening.
The man’s mouth hovers at a distance just far enough away from kissing me—for a torturous second, I think he'll step closer, but that's right before he steps back. One of his hands lets go of my neck, but the other stays entwined with mine so he can guide me with him through the other guests and toward the back door of the barn. The crowd thins the farther back we go, becoming only a few scattered people behind the building.
The couples are lost in each other, letting us move past them without them taking any notice, and we disappear into the shadows of the building. As we rush toward an enclosed gazebo, the man turns and sweeps me up against him. The movement takes me off my feet as he spins us, and in the same motion of him lowering me to my feet, his mouth catches mine.
Our lips press against each other', my tongue reaching toward his, and they tangle hungrily. We’re seeking something, but the kiss is not enough. He pulls his mouth away from mine, and we continue toward the gazebo. My mind is spinning, my thoughts too fast and fractured to follow them. How many drinks did I sip my way through?
They were deceptive. All the dizzying alcohol had dressed up in its own costume of playful bubbles and delicious approachability. From the frothy blue cocktail, to the creamy something-or-other that tasted like pumpkin pie dissolved in bourbon, and the sexy, elegant drink with pomegranate seeds like the one he rested onto my tongue…I had a lot to drink.
The gazebo creates a barrier between us and the party. It gives us just enough of an illusion of privacy that the thought of protesting doesn’t cross my mind when he guides me down onto one of the benches lining the inside of the gazebo walls. He kneels down in front of me and kisses me again as his hands push my skirt up to my hips, exposing my thighs to the cool of the air.
It’s still warm enough that I’m comfortable, but the slight dip in temperature creates another layer of sensation that feels primal and intense, like it has broken free from somewhere held tight within me. All I know is that this feeling won’t relent, and I’ve never felt this way with Chad.
His fingers run up my thighs possessively until he finds my panties. I know he can feel how wet they are, and his growl confirms it. Without hesitation, his fingers pull the damp cloth aside, and I cry out as his fingers start to circle my center. I arch my back, and my thighs open that much further as he plunders my mouth with his tongue.
I’m already teetering on the edge, but he doesn’t let me topple over yet. Instead, he pushes back and takes me by my hands, pulling me to my feet. Pushing me back against the wall, he crushes his mouth over mine again. His hand sweeps down over my hip and grabs the back of my thigh so he can lift it to his side. My knee bends at his hip, and I hook my leg around his. The pressure of his cock nudges against my throbbing pussy, and I bite down into his bottom lip, digging my fingers into his thick head of hair.
I’m still riding the incredible high of what I just experienced when nearby laughter makes his mouth quickly pull away from where it was just playing languidly against mine. Our heads snap toward the voices.
“I love this gazebo,” a woman giggles. “It’s adorable. So old-timey with the twinkling lights and ivy.”
“Have you ever been in there?” a man asks in a voice that says he’s thinking about anything but benches lining the walls.
Footsteps on the gravel surrounding the gazebo spur me into action. Scrambling away from the masked man who is decidedly not a stranger any longer, I adjust my gown as reality starts sinking in faster than anything.
The people coming toward us might be tourists who will never show their faces in Vidalia Isle again, but they may also be inhabitants of the village who will likely notice. If so, I'll never be able to make eye contact with them again. I take one last look at my companion and run back toward the barn.
“Where the hell did you go?”
Sebastian’s voice startles me as I slip back in through the door. The lights seem brighter against my eyes now that they had adjusted to the darkness, and the music and voices seem much louder. Everything is more vibrant and real now that all the cloudiness is gone from my mind.
“I stepped outside for some fresh air,” I tell him. “Where did you go?”
“Sky and I went to dance, remember? You said you didn’t want to, but Skylar has been practicing for weeks, and I couldn’t let her down. We came back for you, but you disappeared.”
“Yeah… I ran into Chad.”
His face falls, and I take it as an opportunity to pull him away from the door. I don’t want to be standing there when the masked man comes back inside.
“Chad?” Seb asks. “He’s actually here? I hadn’t seen him,
so I thought he wised up and stayed away.”
“Apparently not.”
“What did he say?”
“Just more of the same. Life is empty without me. His world is a bleak and miserable place. I complete him, and there’s a piece missing that will never be filled by anyone else.” My eyes flicker to the door and back to Seb. “Can we go?”
“Are you okay?”
I nod with perhaps a tad too much enthusiasm.
“Yep. Fine. I just feel like I’ve had my fill of the ball. It was great, really. I just need to get back to the bed-and-breakfast.”
“I’m still really sorry about that whole not-knowing-his-name thing,” Seb says regretfully.
“It’s fine.”
I really don’t have any room to talk on the whole don’t-know-his-name front anymore.
“Well, Skylar is trying to manipulate sweet Miss Betty into giving up her pumpkin pie recipe so she can steal it for Thanksgiving this year, so she’s probably still over near the refreshment table.”
“I didn’t know she was close enough to pinch a recipe from her.”
“She’s not,” Sebastian says. “But according to her, since her cousin, Carla, is dating Joel, whose brother, Andrew, is married to Miss Betty’s niece, Julie, they are practically family, so she should be allowed.”
I’m still working on connecting the dots when we finally make it to the tables. Miss Betty isn’t around, but Skylar seems to have transferred her attention to Julie.
“She hasn’t mentioned it? Not even once? Over knitting or Thanksgiving dinner or anything?” Skylar asks.
“I’m sorry,” Julie says. “Aunt Betty is very protective of her pumpkin pie recipe.
“But she has to have—”
“Skylar!” Seb calls out in an overly cheerful voice. “Time to go.”
“I’m just—”
“Now, Skylar.”
