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  Unlike last night, she was no longer weighed down by exhaustion. An answering bubble of amusement rippled through his chest. He wanted to see her happy.

  He wasn’t sure why, but that realization surprised him.

  Although that joviality didn’t last for long. Not when, following her and debating whether or not to approach, he watched another man push into her personal space. The guy, most likely a college student—and from the looks of him an underage one, drunk off his ass—slammed into her.

  Worry and anger twisted in Beckett’s gut. Ignoring the glares and shouts, he started shoving at the wall of people blocking him from Alyssa. But he couldn’t get to her fast enough.

  His gaze never strayed, though. Huge clumsy hands wrapped around her hips, jerking her closer. Alyssa rocked back, going up onto the heels of the turquoise cowboy boots that hugged her calves. Who owned shoes that loud? He definitely wouldn’t have expected it of the cool-and-collected Alyssa he’d faced off with across the table today.

  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.

  She didn’t even know his name!

  “Who are you?” she breathed out on a ragged sigh when his teeth scraped down the straining tendon in her throat.

  He’d come up behind her so swiftly. All she could see of him now was the bulging weight of his biceps as he held her in place. Before, she’d gotten the briefest glimpse of his hot, glittering eyes. His face was obscured by that damn mask. And his mouth...sensual, luscious lips.

  She couldn’t see him, so instead filled her other senses with whatever clues she could take in.

  Stopping her struggle to free her arms, she turned her palms and grasped hard thighs. Her fingers dug into heavy muscles. Denim scraped across her sensitive fingertips. It was worn and soft, the heat of him seeping through the thinning threads.

  The night before he’d been dressed more formally. Dark slacks, a dress shirt unbuttoned at his throat and the cuffs rolled up his strong arms. She’d assumed he was a businessman who’d come straight from the office to whatever party raged across the alley.

  She knew her neighbor worked at a law firm, perhaps he was a lawyer, as well? He was strong enough, forceful enough to be formidable in a courtroom. Part of her could see him, arguing passionately in front of a group of rapt people.

  But there was something about the vision that didn’t fit. He...had a primal edge that couldn’t be tamed by convention and laws.

  The shirt scraping her cheek was soft cotton, a gray so dark it bordered on black, and for some reason it reminded her of the brief flash of his eyes. Since they were hidden by the mask, she couldn’t tell their exact color, although the gleam of desire had been more than clear.

  Because it was all she could do, Alyssa used the inch of space he’d given her to rub against him, his chest unbelievably solid beneath her cheek.

  “I’m not going to tell you.” Grazing his lips against the sensitive shell of her ear, he whispered, “You like not knowing who I am. Admit it. It makes you feel daring and wicked and more than a little turned on to have a stranger touching you in the middle of a public street.”

  The tip of his tongue flicked out, leaving a throbbing trail across the skin behind her ear. He paused long enough to suck. Her body sagged against him, turned on more by his words than his touch.

  He was right.

  “I watched you. Watched you watching them.”

  Slowly, he turned her head until her eyes were directed back to the shadows and the couple still hidden there. In the time she’d been distracted they’d gone further.

  The guy’s hands were no longer pressed against the brick. One hand now encircled both of the woman’s wrists, holding them prisoner high above her head. His other hand slid across her body. Her shirt bunched up just beneath the swell of her breasts, exposing the curve of her ribs and belly. His hand disappeared, covering the swell of her breast. Her head dropped back against the wall, mouth falling open in ecstasy.

  Alyssa felt the caress as if it had been to her own body. Her nipples tingled and tightened painfully. She ached. And arched her back to thrust her own breasts up in silent supplication. She wanted him to touch. To ease the thumping need.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he said, “Do you know how beautiful you are? Sensual and gorgeous. Your skin flushed pink. Your eyes glazed. I can feel the current running beneath your skin, anticipation and lust. If I trailed my fingers up beneath the hem of your skirt I’d find you so hot and wet.”

  Her breath hitched in her lungs. Her fingers dug harder into his thighs. He was right. Her panties were soaked, the slick glide of them against her skin a new brand of torture.

  And he’d barely touched her. Certainly not where it counted most.

  She didn’t mean to do it. Wasn’t even aware she wanted to until the single word fell from her parted lips. But she begged. “Please.”

  His lips trailed across her jaw. “Please what?”

  “Touch me.”

  “Now? Here? Where anyone and everyone could see?”

  Swallowing hard, Alyssa nodded her head. She didn’t care. Was far beyond that point. Everyone acted crazy during Mardi Gras, she rationalized. Really, it was so simple. If he didn’t touch in her in the next few seconds she was afraid she might die. Expire from frustration and desire.

  A tortured growl rumbled through his chest. The echo of it vibrated across her own skin.

  When he slid his hand over her belly, Alyssa fought to contain the whimper of relief that threatened to break free. Down her hip. Along her thigh. His fingertips grazed the expanse of skin beneath the hem of her skirt.

  She was free of his hold, but now she stood frozen of her own accord, afraid if she moved a single inch he’d stop the beautiful torture. Cupping her face, he guided her back to him, claiming her mouth.

  Pouring every ounce of longing into the connection, she met his kiss and matched him. She wasn’t content to simply acquiesce, but demanded a piece of him for herself. Her teeth scraped across his bottom lip. Her tongue darted in to get a better taste.

  The whole time his fingers slid higher and higher up the inside of her thigh. Her skirt bunched at his wrist, quickly approaching the level of indecent. But she was too far gone to care.

  Until he stopped—his hand, his mouth. And pulled back
.

  Disoriented, Alyssa blinked up into his hidden gaze.

  His teeth closed delicately around her earlobe. She felt the gentle tug deep at her throbbing core.

  “Last night I went home hard and frustrated that you’d teased me, turned me on and then shut me out. Tonight it’s my turn to walk away.”

  Alyssa drew in a sharp breath, ready to protest. But her brain was too busy spinning on his revelation. Last night he’d been as turned on as she had. Just as frustrated and unfulfilled. He’d felt the connection, even through the distance between them.

  It hadn’t just been a figment of her tired, deprived, overactive imagination.

  “Unlike last night, I won’t torture you with the possibility we might never finish what we started. Let me assure you, we will.”

  Her body quaked, thrills and trepidation twining together.

  His hold on her tightened. “I want to bury myself in your body. Watch the expression on your face as you let go and give in to the euphoria building between us. You will be mine, Alyssa Vaughn.”

  And then he was gone. Just...gone. Her burning body was suddenly cold and achingly alone.

  She was so tired of being alone.

  Spinning around, Alyssa’s eyes searched through the crowd, desperate for at least one glimpse. But he didn’t even leave her that.

  What he did give her was the realization that he knew her name. And she wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about that.

  It should probably scare her. Obviously, he’d had a productive day if in less than twenty-four hours he’d figured out who she was. This guy could be anyone, and the fact that he’d taken the time to research her should have had warning bells clanging through her brain.

  Her highly tuned self-preservation instincts were surprisingly silent.

  However, the entirely girly thrill wasn’t.

  He’d taken the time to find out who she was. He wanted her.

  * * *

  JESUS, HE’D ALMOST gone too far.

  He’d been so wrapped up in the sensation and scent of her he’d forgotten where they were.