Captivate Me

Now the minx who’d teased him last night...those boots fit her perfectly, all wild and outlandish.

Drunk Frat Boy ran a hand up her naked arm, from wrist to shoulder. He squeezed, urging her against the wide expanse of his chest. Beckett had spent the past several years of his life watching men and women dance around each other, playing the attraction game. It was clear to him this guy wanted Alyssa. He wouldn’t put it past the dude to have bumped into her on purpose.

Beckett’s teeth ground together. His hands balled into fists and he shot forward ready to intervene.

But her reaction stopped him.

Tossing her head back, Alyssa laughed. The sight literally stopped him in his tracks. It...changed everything about her. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how wistful her gaze had been. It was as if someone had flipped on a switch. It made his chest tighten and ache.

He’d seen the same pensive expression in his own mirror more times than he cared to remember.

Frozen, he watched her light green eyes sparkle. Her wide, luscious mouth stretched and opened. Instead of pulling away, she wrapped her long, elegant fingers around the guy’s shoulders and went up on tiptoe as she leaned into him. Her mouth brushed close to his ear. Beckett could see her lips moving, but there was no way to hear what she was saying above the din of music and noise.

Whatever it was, Beckett didn’t like it. The guy’s eyes, already glassy with too much alcohol, went completely glazed.

Alyssa patted Frat Boy’s shoulder before slipping away. The guy stood there staring after her with the kind of expression that would make a devoted puppy envious. His friends snagged him and pulled him away, but his gaze stayed glued to Alyssa’s retreating back until the mob swallowed him whole.

She wove in and out of the flood of humanity. Beckett couldn’t look away. Unlike Frat Boy, he didn’t have friends ready to pull him in the opposite direction. Somehow, he found himself behind her, watching the sway of her hips, as if the sight was water and he’d been crawling the desert for days.

A tight skirt—this one entirely different from last night’s and this morning’s—swished against the back of her thighs. The denim pockets were encrusted with a mess of rhinestones in matching fleur-de-lis. It hit a couple of inches above her knee, so wasn’t indecent, especially compared to some of the other outfits on the street.

A filmy, almost see-through shirt the same color as her boots floated around her body, loose, breezy and falling off one shoulder. It bared a large expanse of her creamy skin. Beneath it, a black tank clung in all the right places.

Even casual, she managed to be sexy in an understated way that was more tempting than any blatant display of skin. He knew her secret, though. Beneath the facade she hid a wild little wanton.

Slipping into one of the bars, she grabbed a drink and then came back outside to wander. Even when she reached the parade, she didn’t really pay attention to it. Instead, she watched the people.

He paid attention to what drew her notice, collecting details she most likely wasn’t aware of revealing. Watching for years from behind the barrier of his office window, he’d become rather adept at reading body language and people.

A family. A mom and dad with their arms draped around each other. Two kids, a boy and a girl, both teens, shoving at each other, bickering and bantering. Until someone knocked into the girl, and the boy went immediately into protective mode, pushing her behind the wall of his gangly, developing body. The parents exchanged an indulgent glance.

Alyssa let out a deep sigh, her expression making him curious. A half smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes were full of disappointment, longing and hurt.

He didn’t like that at all.

There were plenty of men on the streets. Beckett watched quite a few of them turn to stare as Alyssa passed by. But she was completely oblivious to the scrutiny. And not once did her gaze sweep across any of them with interest.

However, she noticed the couples. Their heads bent close. A guy whispering in his lover’s ear. A couple with their hands lodged in each other’s back pockets. She took it all in, ambling along as though she had nowhere to be and nothing more weighty on her mind than what her next drink would be.

Finally, she turned a corner to a side street that was a little less crowded. About halfway down the block she stopped. Around her, people streamed by, but she didn’t notice. Her gaze was riveted to something in the shadows of a deep alcove between two buildings.

Chancing discovery, Beckett moved closer until he could see what had caught her attention.

Something dark and hot surged through his blood when he realized she was staring at a couple blatantly making out. They weren’t trying to cover up what they were doing. Actually, they gave every impression of being completely oblivious that anyone else in the world existed.

The pale expanse of a leg wrapped tight around a denim-clad male hip shone in the light from the streetlamps. The man’s hands were pressed against the wall on either side of the woman’s head, but his entire body touched her from lips to chest to hip. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding him tight to her mouth.

They were devouring each other and, if they didn’t pull away, would eventually be giving anyone walking by a free show.

Beckett took all this in with a three-second glance. He couldn’t have cared less about the couple. What held him entranced was Alyssa’s response to them.

She was turned on. More than that. Her chest rose and fell on quick, shallow breaths.

Her mouth was open, but he watched her tongue sneak out, sweeping across the deep pink of her bottom lip, leaving it wet and glistening. He wanted to taste her lips and find out just how sweet they’d be.

Moving quickly, Beckett closed the space between them. His chest collided with her back and his hands settled gently on her hips, holding her still. Her body jolted.

Slipping one arm around her waist, Beckett let his other slide up her ribs. Cupping her cheek in his palm, he coaxed her to turn to him. To see him. Her frantic gaze darted across his masked face. Recognition shot through her and her tensed body immediately softened.

She stilled and then melted into him. Beckett accepted her weight and the spreading warmth of finally having her loose and lax in his arms.

Her pupils dilated, not with anxiety or fear, but barely suppressed excitement.

That realization only stoked his already chaotic emotions higher.

“What are you doing here?” she breathed.

“Did you really think I’d let you get away with shutting me out?” he asked. “Tell me to let you go. Or get lost. But let me taste you first. Once. Please,” he begged, right before finally claiming her mouth.

* * *

GOD, SHE WAS kissing a complete stranger in the middle of Mardi Gras. No, that wasn’t true. She might be participating, but there was no mistaking just who was controlling this moment.

And it wasn’t her.

She was simply along for the ride. Swept away on the current of sensation. His hard fingers, cupping her jaw, held her still. The band of his arm across her belly pulled her close, as if letting her go would devastate him. His warmth radiated through her and seeped deep into her bones.

The unmistakable ridge of masculine arousal nestled tight against the small of her back. Alyssa’s hips rolled against him. An unconscious movement, but it felt good knowing she had that effect on him.

Because he had the same effect on her.

Maybe that’s why she went with the moment and didn’t fight him or herself. In the middle of a public street, he completely consumed her. And, unlike the couple in the shadows, he made no attempt to hide.

Despite everything, this was safe. At least a hell of a lot safer than the frantic, unwanted thoughts of Beckett Kayne she’d been fighting all night. This kiss, these moments, made her forget everything except the masked man holding her. The way he made her body respond and her brain simply shut down leaving nothing but...pure sensation and unfiltered response.

Maybe it was her imagination that added the slide of multiple gazes across her body, across them. She wanted them to watch. Wanted someone else to see what was happening to her.

To make it real.

The feathers from his mask tickled her skin. His mouth, somehow both hard and soft, moved against hers, demanding and restrained. He knew exactly what he was doing and methodically enthralled her.

His tongue thrust between her lips, taking whatever he wanted from her. It was sweet and sharp. Heaven and absolute hell, because in the same moment he’d surprised her he’d also managed to pin her arms uselessly to her sides.

She struggled against him, not to get free, but so she could participate, do something more than surrender and melt.

With a gasp that burst across her open, wet lips, he tore his mouth free. But didn’t let go. Instead, he used his hold to turn her head and expose the long column of her throat.

A trail of fire followed his lips. A shiver jolted down her spine and raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

He chuckled, dragging his mouth across the evidence of her instinctive reaction. The sound of it, deep, warm and entirely egotistical, resonated through her body, settling deep between her thighs with a pressing ache.

How could his pleased response ratchet up her own desire? She didn’t need or want his approval. Had given up the need for that kind of validation from anyone a long time ago.

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