“I know it's not an exact replica or anything. But I tried to match up the goblin the way you described.”
She looks down and her mouth opens wide. Her expression is unlike any I've ever seen before and she doesn't say a word.
Shit. I made a mistake.
I'm ready to apologize, but then she literally jumps into my arms, wraps her legs around my waist and hugs me so tight I almost send us both flying backward. “I take it you like it?” I ask. I don't even feel the pain in my ribs because her coconut scent surrounds me. And for the record, I was right. Her dress is made out of silk.
I hear a small sniffle. “You have no idea how much,” she whispers. I stand there holding her for what feels like hours, not that I'm complaining. I would be more than content to hold her all night without ever venturing to the club. But I know how much she’s looking forward to it.
“Are you ready?” I ask after I hear her breathing return back to normal.
She slides down my body and I swallow hard. She turns around, hands me the box, and holds up her hair. “Would you mind?”
My fingertips brush over her collarbone as I fasten the necklace around her neck. My lips hover over her ear. “You look breathtaking,” I whisper.
Goosebumps erupt along her soft flesh and she fights a shiver. I meant to aim for her cheek, but before I know what I'm doing, my lips are grazing her neck.
Then she moans and my self-control plummets.
I force myself to back away. “Let's go.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
Before we leave, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a red and black masquerade mask for herself and hands me a black one.
A black mask that is so fucking similar to the one I already have. My expression must give me away because she asks, “Are you okay, Jackson?” For the second time that night.
No...I'm not okay.
I'm the exact opposite of okay.
Chapter Eighteen
Alyssa
After Jackson paid the admission and we walked into the club, things got weird.
For the first half hour, he refused to make eye contact with me and practically ignored me.
And since neither of us are big drinkers we didn't spend much time at the bar. Not a whole lot of liquid courage for either of us to rely on.
That only left one thing to do. Dance.
Which Jackson, of course, said he doesn't do.
With only an hour left of my actual birthday, a night that started out so good, was turning out to be a bust.
Which is why I'm currently on the dance floor with some guy wearing a green mask while smoky air and dark sultry music surround us.
I have no interest in my dancing partner other than dancing but even in the almost pitch black room, I can feel Jackson's eyes on me the whole time.
Which is odd, because I swear, it seems like every female's eyes are on him.
And I can't say that I blame them one bit. If only they got a load of how sexy his face is without the mask...I'm pretty sure they'd faint.
My dancing partner grabs my hips and leans in much closer. Through his mask, Jackson's eyes narrow.
The D.J changes the beat up a little and cues up Meg Myers, Desire.
The guy presses flush against me and starts getting really into it...until he's suddenly gone and I'm being pressed against a wall instead.
I look up and Jackson's staring down at me, my former dancing partner long gone.
I've never seen Jackson look at me like this before. I don't know if I should be scared or turned on. I choose the latter.
He leans down, his breath tickling my ear. “I've had about as much as I can take, Alyssa. I don't like watching while some other guy puts his hands all over you.”
Wow, this sounds a lot like jealousy. Against my better judgment, I decide to provoke him. “Why's that?”
I know exactly what I want. And that's him. Now, he needs to decide if he wants me once and for all. This hot and cold business is becoming exhausting.
He closes his eyes. I don't even think he realizes that he's started swaying to the music. And for someone who claims they don't dance, he's awfully good at it.
He raises my hands above my head and slowly grinds himself against me. “I think you know why,” he rasps.
I shake my head and bite my lip. “No. Why don't you tell me? Or better yet, show me.”
You can cut the sexual tension between us with a knife at this point, but I'm putting the ball in his court. He turned me down when it was in mine.
He leans his forehead against mine, links our fingers together and thrusts against me. “I want to be the only one who's allowed to touch your body like this. I want it to be me you think about at night when you touch yourself. I want it to be my name you're screaming when I'm making you come. I want you to be mine, because as far as I'm concerned...I'm already yours.”
I'm dizzy with those words. Our lips are so close, we're almost kissing. And my God, do I need him to kiss me right now.
“I'm yours. Now kiss me, Jackson.”
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “Everything will change,” he warns.
And he's right. Everything will change. But I want it to. I want things with him that I've never wanted with another person before.
I want to give him every single part of me...even the broken parts.
I take off my mask and toss it, not caring where it lands. “Good.”
It's not a soft and gentle kiss.
It's a kiss that ravages me, consumes me. It's a kiss that claims me...effectively ruining me for anyone else, threatening to haunt me if my lips dare to ever touch another's.
He's putting his mark on me with those lips, branding me with the stroke of his tongue and worshiping me with his every breath.
I've kissed a lot of guys in my lifetime. But I've never been kissed like this before.
He nips my lower lip and I let out a groan. His hands are everywhere- in my hair, moving up my spine, lifting and pulling me closer to him.
I feel his hardness against my stomach and taste the hint of whiskey on his tongue, his heart beating faster than the speed of light.
We stay kissing for what feels like forever, neither of us daring to ruin the connection we've forged by coming up for air...until someone clears their throat around us.
I open my eyes and realize that Jackson has me pinned up against the wall, my dress is bunched around my thighs and his own mask has slipped off.
“This is a masquerade themed Halloween party. You both have to wear your masks. And stay off the goddamned wall,” some big guy in a security t-shirt says gruffly before he walks away.
I unravel my legs from around Jackson's waist and I know my face is probably the color of a tomato. I've never been so happy to be in a dark room.
He cradles my face in his hands. “Do you want to stay? We can if you want to.”
I shake my head and Jackson takes my hand and heads toward the exit. “Wait,” I say. We stop walking and he looks at me. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
He laughs as we walk over to where the bathrooms are, making sure to dodge any security personnel along the way.
“I'll be right outside the door if you need me,” he says. He bends down and I think he's going to kiss me again, but he kisses my forehead instead.