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Okay, I might be innocent and I might not yet be eighteen even. Give it a few minutes. But I am all woman and my rapid heartbeat lets me know it.
Even in the black mask he channels Harrison Ford with a charming smirk that peels his smile into a sideways grin. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he is amused nonetheless. Every finely toned muscle south of that smirk chanted The Rock material with his sheer size and bless my throbbing clit everything else about him screams Norse god.
Brown hair so dark it almost looks black, a jaw carved from marble, and shoulders like a train encased in black silk, of all things. A loose white tie hangs around his neck and for a moment I wonder what it would be like to tug on the ends until he’s pressed against me.
“Let me guess, your costume is a billionaire playboy?” I tease, wavering on if I should smile back.
He prowls closer, his steps slow and calculated. A tic in his jaw draws my eyes to the hard line covered in a dark stubble. A jawline that makes all my fantasies of Zorro ravishing me come flooding through my mind. His jawline isn’t the only thing with a hard edge either.
Looking at him take a few steps from the shadows is like watching dark and dangerous be personified in every inch of his body.
I can’t lie. I like it. And like how sexy he looks in the half-faced mask which amps up the mystery level. A small part of me wonders if this is Mr. Savage at all. I almost don’t care. But a voice inside my head whispers back the ugly reality of it all.
Each of his footsteps falls silently against the plush carpet as he prowls closer.
I scramble back until the hard wood of the shelves presses against my spine, the book clutched between my fingers like a shield. Against what, I have no idea.
A wild look takes hold in the stranger’s eyes and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me the tiniest bit of a thrill.
I’m not going to examine what that says about me as a person at the moment. I know one thing I took away from my mother, which I know she didn’t intentionally try to teach me and that was to never give up. She did and now she’s dead and gone. I refuse to end up like her. Who cares if I have to blackmail some billionaire? Not me.
So I keep telling myself.
“What will I ever do with such a gift?”
Standing in front of Chicago’s wealthiest man with my nipples peaked and pressing into the soft material of my costume makes the wealth of answers at my disposal dry up. I’m half willing to let my body do the talking the longer he looks at me like I’m some divine being.
“I...I...” Damn him. And damn him for scaring the life out of me.
I try again. “I’m sorry. I was looking for a quiet place to gather my thoughts away from all the people. I saw the library and couldn’t resist.”
“Whatever is there to be sorry about, angel? The way I look at it, you have perfect timing.”
