Somehow, I’d made it to one of “the boxes” with Ashton Kane, only the mecca of debauchery in the entire country. Ben will never believe this when I tell him. I wished I’d had more to drink then maybe I might be a little smoother, more charming.

He drew me down beside him on the couch and ran a fingertip along the edge of my mask. It only covered my eyes and the top of my nose, but the detail work was exquisite. My whole outfit had been planned around it. Achingly slow, he removed his fingers and put them down in his lap. I stifled a whimper at the loss of that phantom touch.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

I smiled, despite wishing he would return his hands to my face. “I liked that.”

Shifting so his knees aligned with mine, he traced a digit across my bottom lip. I stopped myself from sucking it in. There must have been something in the air because I wanted him, more than I had ever wanted another man. He continued to caress my top lip and my breathing started getting heavy, my panties already wet.

“You like that?” he whispered.

I nodded, not wanting to speak so he wouldn’t stop.

“Where else do you want me to touch you?”

“Anywhere you want.”