Charlotte gripped the back of the chair she was standing behind. A hand tapped gently on her own, making her look down. “Relax, sweetheart,” Michael said. She let go of his chair, forcing herself to do just that.
“What’s this for?” Pete asked, sitting up now.
“To honor and celebrate the visit of Ludwig’s close associates,” she answered.
“Sal,” Charlotte said, not bothering to hide her distaste for the man. He’d always rubbed her the wrong way whenever he visited. She had a pretty good feeling he was interested in her in a way that made her skin crawl.
“All the Uppers have been invited, and it’s being called the most anticipated event of the season,” Phoenix continued with exaggerated flourish.
“Everyone is to be masked for the event,” Lake added. “And all Uppers are mandated to attend.”
“Ludwig is bent on showing those nefarious rebels that their recent activities with certain explosives,” Phoenix said, sending a mischievous grin at Pixie, who bowed her head dramatically, “will not hold the Uppers back from reigning in this city. And what better way to do so then to throw a party? A man of my own style.”
“A room full of people, all wearing masks to cover their faces,” Vi said happily. “What better opportunity could there be?”
“We’ll have your sister back in no time, X.” Phoenix smiled at her.
“You think she’ll be at this?” Charlotte asked.
“Of course, everyone is meant to attend,” she answered.
“Even after her attempted kidnapping?” Pete countered.
“Trust me, she’ll be there. I have it on good authority that all Uppers have to attend. He’s trying to prove a point. Keeping his precious Weapon X hidden away would be the complete opposite. He’d be letting Douglas win. She’ll be there, and so will we.”
“I haven’t been to a party in ages,” Vi said wistfully.
“Not since that time we got drunk in the alley behind Bob’s, remember?” Sam said. “And Pixie ended up kicking over those trashcans where, like a million cats lived.”
“I wouldn’t really classify that as a party,” Lake said.
“Why do I have a feeling that these girls have crazier stories than we do?” said Seamus.
“You have no idea,” Sam replied.
“How will you know which one is Bridgette if everyone is masked?” Michael asked.
Phoenix’s smile slipped, a small pout forming on her bright red lips.
“She won’t be masked like the others,” Charlotte said.
“How can you be sure?” Trent asked.
“Because you’re forgetting that the entire population is not aware she’s a woman, which means she’s likely to still be dressed as she normally is. Roman will be too, for that matter. I’m guessing all the soldiers will be there in uniform. Only the regular Uppers will be dressed up.”
Phoenix clapped her hands. “There you go. Problem solved.”
“We’re not all going, are we?” Trent asked.
“You bet we are, hot shot,” replied Phoenix. “It’s time to hide that ugly mug of yours.”
He smiled. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you, princess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bridgette looked at her reflection in the mirror, twisting her body slightly from side to side as the dress sparkled in the light. She’d never worn something so fine. Smooth, silky fabric, held by the thinnest of spaghetti straps, flowed down her body reaching the floor in a wave of silver. It clung to her in a way that made her feel both sexy and elegant all at the same time.
Her dark hair was pulled up, her bangs a dark line above her blue eyes that shone brightly behind the silver mask. Lips painted a dark red smiled in appreciation of the image in front of her. It wasn’t often that Bridgette would find herself admiring her own looks, but tonight she could admit that she cleaned up rather nicely, if she said so herself.
Around her neck was the only piece of jewellery she wore. The long chain sank beneath the neckline of the dress, the tiny cross on the end nestled safely against her breastbone. Charlotte’s necklace was something she always kept close, and tonight seemed like the perfect time to wear it. There was something comforting about having an item that belonged to her sister on her. Perhaps it would help give her the courage she’d need to get through this night. Or at least remind herself that Charlotte had survived this life for five years on her own, so surely Bridgette could survive two weeks of it.
“You look absolutely stunning,” Roman said from the door. Bridgette jumped at his voice, not having heard him come in. Their eyes met in the mirror as he moved to stand just behind her, the soft fabric of his dark suit brushing against her bare skin. She shivered at the ghost of a touch and feral look in his eyes as their gazes remained locked. His hands landed on her hips, the heat of them sinking through the silky fabric.
“You’re looking mighty fine yourself,” she said, her breath hitching as his palms glided over the smooth fabric. He pulled her gently back so she was pressed against him, his head lowering to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate this evening,” he said, looking up through his thick eyelashes. “It’s bad enough he’s using you as bait. Now I have to deal with wanting to kill anyone who dares to look at you as well.”
She laughed at the absurdity of that statement. “No one will be looking at me,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right? Every man in that place will be dying to know who you are.”
Bridgette blushed, thankful that her mask covered most of the upper portion of her face. “That’s the part I don’t understand about this plan,” she said, ignoring his comment. “How does he expect me to draw out my father if I’m not dressed as Weapon X?” She was also concerned Ludwig would be able to tell she wasn’t Charlotte without her usual mask, but the one she wore seemed to hide their differences too. Hopefully it was enough.
“Ludwig is hoping Douglas himself will show up once he realizes you’re not there in uniform. He’ll need to be there in order to identify you from the other attendees.”
“And if he can’t? I think you might be over estimating our father, daughter bond. It’s likely he’ll have no idea which girl I am out of everyone else.” That was the truth, even though it saddened her to admit it. She had a sinking feeling the man behind her could pick her out of a line much quicker than her own flesh and blood.
“He’ll know it’s you,” Roman said with certainty. She didn’t have the same confidence he seemed to have, but she left it for now. This whole plan seemed rather farfetched in her opinion. She couldn’t imagine her father actually risking the chance of being caught by even coming close to the party that night. It would be moronic at best. However, this was her father they were talking about, so perhaps she shouldn’t be too quick to judge. Douglas Hatcher had done more than his fair share of idiotic things in his lifetime.
“We’d better get going, or I’ll be tempted to keep you here to myself,” he said.
Bridgette’s heart quickened at just the thought. She slowly turned in his arms, her own wrapping around his neck. “I think that sounds like a much more entertaining idea,” she said.
Roman smiled, his lips pulling up at the corners in the barely-there smile that always had her stomach fluttering. “Incorrigible,” he teased, tightening his hold. “What shall I do with you?”
Bridgette licked at her dry lips, watching as his eyes followed the movement heatedly. “I can think of a number of things,” she replied.
She expected a witty reply, but instead found herself backed up against the wall before she could even realize what was happening. Roman’s mouth was on hers a second later as she melted into him. Her hands gripped his hair, heedless of the fact she was messing it up right before they were to go out.
His hands were frantic as the pulled up the material of her dress, his fingertips skimming her thighs. He reached between them to stroke
her, a feral growl sounding from his throat.
“No underwear?” he murmured against her mouth.
“I had no choice, this dress doesn’t hide much,” she said on a breath as his touch caused her body to arch against him. Her eyes rolled back, her insides quivering. Their movements became frantic as her hands struggled to get his pants off while they shook, their mouths melding together in a kiss that demanded everything. When he was finally free, the hard length of him in her hand, his own moved to cup her round backside, lifting her against the wall. The next moment had him entering her in a slow torturous glide that had her crying out.
He stilled when he became completely sheathed inside her, his body pressing her tightly against the wall. Roman pulled back to look at her, gently removing her mask and throwing it to the floor. “Every time you allow me to touch any part of you, I feel like the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. I don’t deserve such honour. I don’t deserve to know any piece of the heaven I’ve found with you. You are far too good for me,” he whispered, their mouths close together.
Bridgette searched his eyes, completely trapped in their own, stolen moment in time, where nothing outside the two of them could distract her from the beautiful man in front of her. Within the depths of the oxford blue orbs, flecks of black and grey swirling within, she saw such a mixture of emotion that it broke her heart. Beneath the desire lay what she could only decipher as such an intense longing and sadness that words escaped her.
She gently stroked the side of his face, his eyelids closing, concealing all those feelings as he leaned into her touch. When she spoke, her voice was rough with empathy and remorse that this man thought so little of himself when she knew with her whole heart that he was good. “Why must you always talk so badly about yourself? Can’t you see how wonderful you are?”
Their voices didn’t rise above a whisper. “You have no idea what kind of man I am.”
“I know what I see.”
He shook his head, such pain in his eyes. “Just let me love you,” he said, flexing his hips, driving her higher. Bridgette gasped at the renewed pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders. “even if it’s just for now.”
His mouth met hers again before she could utter another word, stealing her breath and any reply she might have prepared. His movements were slower this time, all that frantic need gone. Bridgette gripped his hair as they kissed, letting him set the pace and show her everything he was feeling that he couldn’t say. She could sense it in every caress, every slide of his tongue against hers, every moan that escaped him and soaked into her. And all she could do was try her hardest to communicate back to him how she felt in return. Every cell in her body wanted Roman to know that she didn’t believe he was bad, even if he had done bad things. She knew, despite what he’d done for the sake of the war, that Roman Adamson was a better man than most she’d known all her life. She’d seen what some men could be like, especially working as a dancer. She knew how depraved some souls could be just from a certain look in their eyes. Roman was nothing like them. He was nothing like anyone she’d known.
His hands gripped beneath her thighs, suddenly lifting her away from the wall and walking over to gently lay her on the bed, separating them. He followed, covering her with his body, the weight and heat of him a welcome feeling. Bridgette sighed into his mouth as they began to kiss again. There was nothing better than kissing Roman. Their mouths worked perfectly in sync with each other’s, as if they’d been lovers for years.
When he re-entered her they both moaned in pleasure at the sensation of being connected. Bridgette wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into the hard muscles of his ass. Roman quickened his pace now, his thrusts hard and deep, driving her slowly mad. Bridgette tore her mouth away, sucking in a large gulp of air as her body tightened, her climax slowly building, spreading throughout her entire body. As she climbed higher she clawed at him, desperately wanting to reach that point where everything would burst into a feeling of ecstasy.
Everything shattered with his next movement, sending her over the edge. Stars dotted her vision as she cried out unintelligible things, her legs and toes stiffening as he continue to pound into her, drawing her orgasm out to the point where she thought it might never end. It was so intense, it bordered on the line between pain and pleasure. Finally he gave one final push and stilled, finding his own release, burying his face into her neck.
They lay there for what felt like hours, neither one of them moving a muscle. She would have been happy to spend the rest of the night just the way they were. Roman started to kiss her neck in soft, hot kisses, causing her inner walls to tighten around him. He moaned, rotating his hips in the barest of moves, but it was enough to make her eyes cross from being incredibly sensitive after that mind-blowing orgasm. She wasn’t sure if she could handle another round with him.
His lips made their way up the side of her neck until she felt the sharp edge of his teeth grip her earlobe in a tiny nip. She clenched again, earning a growl in return.
“You keep doing that,” he said, his voice rough, “and we’ll never get out of here.”
“I’m not doing anything,” she said, her voice breathy with desire.
“Your body certainly is,” he replied.
She chuckled, her chest arching into his touch as one hand glided up to cover one of her breasts. “I think my body has a mind of its own where you’re concerned.”
His husky laugh brought goose bumps to her skin. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at her. His mouth spread into a wide smile, humour sparkling in his eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“You,” he said.
“What about me?”
His smile grew, if possible, even larger, a very pleased look washing over his face.
“What is so damn funny?”
“You just look…” He bit his lip. “I don’t know how to say it without offending you.”
Bridgette pushed at his chest. “Get off of me so I can look in the mirror.” He did, pulling out from where they were still connected, and causing the two of them to moan in unison again. Bridgette got off the bed to stand and stare at her reflection, her cheeks heating to a bright pink. She looked properly fucked, is what she looked like. And she knew that was exactly what Roman had been thinking just now. Her hair was a mess, her dress twisted and dishevelled. Not at all the same polished and proper appearance she’d had before.
When she turned to look at him, still lying in bed, she had to bite the insides of her cheeks to not smile back at the openly male pride shining on his face. “It’s not funny,” she admonished. “Now it’ll take me another half an hour to make myself look presentable again.”
Roman started laughing, unashamed. Bridgette lost the war, her own smile breaking free as she turned to start working on the bird’s nest that was currently her hair.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” she said wiping at her smeared lipstick. “That shade looks horrible on you.” That was a lie, there was something strangely appealing about seeing the bright red of her lipstick all over his mouth, knowing she was the one that had done that to him. She leaned closer to the mirror, reapplying it.
Roman stood, coming up behind her so she could see him in the mirror. He grinned, his hands settling on her hips again. “I’ll wear it with pride,” he said.
Bridgette rolled her eyes, secretly pleased. “Go clean yourself off so we can go,” she ordered.
“What if I don’t want to,” he argued, planting a kiss on her neck. She took a step forward, putting some much needed space between them.
“Don’t start,” she warned. “We need to get going.”
He stuck his lower lip out in a fake pout that had her aching to turn around and suck the delectable flesh into her mouth. Before she could act out her thoughts, he turned and walked into the washroom. The water started running a second later, bringing her back to reality. She needed to focus on what they were setting out to do that night, not on what
she wanted to do to Roman. When he walked back in, she took a slow moment to appreciate him. It was pretty hard not to think about all the things she’d like to do to a man, when that man looked like Roman Adamson.
When her eyes met his again, she could see his laughter shining in those dark blue eyes. “A penny for your thoughts?” he said, fighting back a laugh.
Bridgette snorted, looking away from him to focus on trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the delicate fabric of her dress. When she finally looked relatively close to what she’d looked like before Roman sauntered in and had his way with her – not that she was complaining – she turned to find her mask still lying on the floor where he’d tossed it. By the time she turned to face him again, mask in place, she saw he was wearing his as well.
Time seemed to stop as she looked at him. Bridgette wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he actually looked even better with the upper portion of his face hidden. There was something dangerous and mysterious about him, and she wanted nothing else but to fall back into bed and revisit what they’d just done.
“You really need to stop looking at me like that,” he said.
Bridgette blushed.
Roman groaned, a tortured look washing over his face. “That blush doesn’t help matters.” He didn’t say another word before grabbing her hand and pulling them both out of her room. She could feel the electricity that was constant between them firing to life where their hands met. Keeping her pace quick, she hurried behind him as they made their way to the elevator.
As soon as the doors shut, Roman was in front of her, backing them up until she hit the wall. His mouth covered hers in a quick, demanding kiss.
“I just had to do that one more time before we’re surrounded by other people,” he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.
“You’re welcome to do it one more time,” she replied, her heart racing. And he did. When the doors opened again, they were both breathing a little heavier, a fine sheen of sweat across both their brows.
02 Masked-New World Page 18