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“How come you’re touching me?” I mutter, afraid to turn around and face him.
“How come you’re letting me?” He spits back, and I can hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Because…” My train of thought of disappears along with my inhibitions when he leans down to plant kisses on my neck.
He knows I want this. I want him and everything he’s willing to give me in return.
It’s as if he can sense the need that burns inside me, craving every single touch from him. His hand moves up from my waist, his fingers feeling my ribs, the side of my breast, and eventually land on my jaw. Finch tilts my head back so that our eyes meet, and my lips part for him.
He traces his thumb along my jaw and then rolls it over my lips. “I know you,” he says, his voice deep and guttural.
“You don’t,” I croak. “This is the first time we have met.”
“How do you know? I haven’t told you my name.”
“You’re not supposed to tell me,” I point out. “That would defeat the point of the party, now wouldn’t it?”
Finch smirks. “You’ve got me there, Princess.”
“I’m no princess,” I spit back.
“You look like one in this dress, and since I don’t know your name, I have to call you something.”
“You don’t have to call me anything.” This dress must be giving me a set of brass balls because I am never this forward with anyone.
He rubs his thumb across my lips once more and then returns to holding my face in his big hand. “How about beautiful? That’s what you are.”
Since he’s staying true to form and going with the flow, I feel brave and so unlike myself that it’s a nice change of pace. Maybe this is the way I would be had it not been for my stepmother and stepsisters making my life a living hell.
“This is nothing like I had planned,” I confess.
“No?” His tone indicates a question.
“It’s so much better.”
Without another word, a fire lights behind those steel blue eyes, and Finch whirls me around and into his arms. He presses my back against the cold door, and his fingers find their place once more on my hips.
Holding me with one look, he hesit
ates before I say, “I came here for a kiss.”
His eyebrows rise in confusion. “From me or anyone?”
I nod. “You. I want one from you.”
“But you don’t know me, remember?”
Running my hands up his chest, I slip them inside his suit jacket and feel the contours of his muscles over the white oxford. “I know who you are Shawn Finch. So, how about you kiss me already?”
“That’s not fair,” he says. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“You’re not hard to spot, even in a mask.”
“I guess there’s no point in wearing this thing,” he says, pulling the mask from his face. “It’s scratchy as fuck, anyway.” He shoves it into his pocket before he reaches up to touch mine.
I clamp my hands down on his wrists to stop him. “Not so fast. I never said anything about removing mine.”
“You know my name and what I look like, yet I can’t even take off your mask? I’m sure what’s underneath is just as beautiful as what I can see with it on.”
