Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
The night was a little bit breezy, so his scent carried in the air. It seemed to surround me, and I inhaled deeply before taking another long pull from my glass. I could smell his cologne, and it tightened my skin and had the hairs on my arms standing on end.
Oh yeah… the champagne was champagning.
He wasn’t looking at me, so I let myself appreciate the very size of him. He had broad shoulders and a massively strong-looking frame. The suit he wore didn’t hide the very clear, muscular, masculine physique he sported.
I wasn’t someone who usually sized up other people, but this man had to be easily six-foot-three with the build of a linebacker.
The soft lighting of the patio allowed me to see clear enough that his hair was short with more salt than pepper coloring the strands.
For some reason, I had this visceral reaction to the sight of him, to the very smell of the cologne he wore.
My face felt hotter, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol.
He turned his head in my direction, and I held my breath—an involuntary response. And then he faced me, leaning back against the railing and bracing his hands behind him. Every muscle in his body decided to clench and bulge in that moment.
God, he smelled really good. Like so good my pussy clenched like the bitch needed to be filled right then and there. I exhaled roughly at the thought of this stranger doing all kinds of inappropriate—kinky—things to me.
“What’s your name?” His voice was deep and rough, like he’d been drinking booze all night.
“Pyper,” I said right away, ignoring all the things my mother told me about speaking to strangers. “And yours?”
Girl, I’m not a child, and I really don’t want this man to be a stranger.
2
PYPER
I felt my face heat for a whole slew of other reasons that had nothing to do with the champagne.
After that, he didn’t speak for long seconds, but he did stare at me. The shadows concealed what little I could see of his masked face. But the longer he watched me, the more intensely I felt his eyes penetrating.
It was as if he was trying to figure me out. But I didn’t get an off feeling from him. There were no red flags popping up, no warning bells.
I was solely blaming this crazy arousal I felt on the champagne and the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid in years.
“Anthony,” he finally said.
It took me a moment to realize he was answering me.
He walked over and sat beside me. The concentrated scent of his cologne was pleasantly overpowering, and I actually swayed slightly.
The bench I sat on was big enough. He could have put enough space between us that we weren’t touching. But he was so close to me that his arm was pressed against mine, his thigh adding pressure to my leg.
I couldn’t lie. It felt really good.
“How long have you been working for the company?”
I could still feel him looking at me, although I was staring into the banquet hall and watching all the people to distract me from the hot man sitting beside me.
I didn’t know why this man made me feel so on-edge. It was like something sparked inside me, like my dead and absent libido had finally woken up and said, “Bitch, alert! Fuckable, sizzling-hot man sitting right next to you!”
I cleared my throat and smoothed my hands down my dress before looking at him. “Six months. I work in data entry, so I feel a little out of place here, since I don’t interact with anyone except the few in my office.”
I wasn’t sure why I admitted that last part or told him what department I worked in.
I eyed him up and down, the glow of light from the banquet hall making me see him a little more clearly now. His mask covered from his eyes, down to his chin. It was completely black aside from the gold filigree design that lined the edge of the mask.
“Everyone in a company is an integral part of running the machine.”
His words seemed… genuine.
I focused on all the things I saw right in front of me instead of how his words made me feel.
I could see he had a beard, the same salt-and-pepper mix as his hair. It looked thick but well-groomed. My fingers tingled and twitched to reach up and pull the mask down. I just had to know what he looked like.
Not that it would make a difference, because I didn’t know any Anthony at the company.
He shifted so his body faced me a little bit more. The position was lazy. Almost arrogant.
“Pyper,” he said my name in a low purr, this deep huskiness laced within it. “I saw you in there.” He tipped his chin toward the party. “You were standing all alone, drinking your champagne with those little hands with red-painted nails.”