He chuckles again and rubs his chin, making that biceps bulge, and I bite my lip to make sure I’m not drooling.
“You look perfectly perfect to me,” he says.
“Sorry, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to have a proper conversation,” I say, pulling my eyes away from his various muscles. “It’s my first time here, actually.” Yep, still not able to converse like a normal human.
“I would never have guessed,” he says, but I catch the sarcasm in his voice.
“That obvious, huh?” I grin. “Was it the squealing?”
“It hinted at the fact,” he says.
“This place is astonishing. I haven’t felt so free, so like …myselfin a long time.”
Laughing. Dancing. This place. This costume. Talking to someone who doesn’t judge me with every look. And it fills me with so much energy.
I’ve never been this close to such a manly man. Forget my handful of mistakes of the past. This is aman.
I look at the large hand resting on the table. Sexy veins make their way up his wrist and muscular forearm. My skin aches for him to touch me.
Before I overthink it, I trace my fingers up his hand, exploring the very veins I was just admiring. I surprise myself with how forthcoming I am. Is this still me, or is it Alice? Am I brave because of the anonymity?
He sits still, but doesn’t stop me. How far will he let me go?
CHAPTER NINE
wonderland
REY
“Tell me, Mr Hood. Why did you choose me? In this sea of half-naked princess-models, why choose Alice?” I angle my torso towards him fully and rest my hand on his. Can he feel the crackling air between us?
He turns his hand to let mine fall into it. His gaze is on our fingers playing when he answers, “I had no intention of meeting anyone tonight, to be honest. But you were the life and soul of the party out there. Everyone else seemed to dance for some audience. You were dancing for fun. For yourself.” The touch of his warm skin is like small fires in my palm. He continues, still looking at our hands. “There are too many people masquerading as princesses in the world. I’m so tired of the sameness. This is the first time I’ve met a flowery wonderland woman.” His eyes meet mine in the dim light. “You seem … playful. Real. Full of life.”
His words hit home, and I’m surprised by their impact on me. He sees straight through my costume to my real self and a part of me that I love, but isn’t accepted by the people that matter the most to me. My whimsical part.
“When I was watching you, I was trying to remember thelast time I truly enjoyed something the way you looked to be out there.”
“And?”
“It must have been well over ten years ago.”
“Seriously?”
His fingers lock around my hand, and the firm touch sends a jolt of heat straight to my centre.
“Seriously,” he says, so close now I can feel his breath on my lips. I hadn’t realised we’d been inching towards each other.
“You don’t enjoy your work? Or a hobby?”
“Not like that.”
“What about—” I clear my throat, “—umm … sex? Wouldn’t a man shaped like you enjoy that all the time?”
This is not me talking. My brain has disconnected, and my mouth is wired to my vagina instead.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
Oh, that luscious mouth.
