Beyond the Masks Read online

  “I’m sorry?”

  He slid closer. Their hips inches away. With an arm resting behind her, his body heat threatened to sear her skin as she allowed him to cocoon her. The blue of his eyes darkened as they caressed the peaks and valleys of her face. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.

  “How do you make a woman dressed in power undeniably attractive?”

  “She becomes attractive when a man cloaked in adversarial self-righteousness finally pays attention.” She smiled to lessen the tension wrapped in a cozy coil of sensual misgivings.

  A hum sent an acknowledgment of a well-executed insult. “Self-satisfied much?”

  She straightened, keeping her eyes on his. “Confident.”

  Both exuded strength and control yet held respect for the game. Two strong-willed people finding the challenge inviting and acceptable. A common ground of appreciation and regard exchanged. The moment eased the mental struggle she’d held for years.

  He breathed out. “And it’s stunning.”

  His lips parted, eyes softening, as if seeing her for the first time. Being this close allowed him a microscopic view of what made the woman heading up Omega. Did a woman in the driver’s seat turn him on?

  She managed a whisper. “Thank you.”

  Anise and cloves permeated the area, trapping her deep in sexual imagery. Thoughts of him taking over her body roared in her head. “I think we are…getting off track.”

  “From?”

  Their lips were close. She wanted them all over her and wondered if this was real or a game. Should she take him on a wild ride or let him take her?

  “Eating,” she breathed out.

  He laughed as his eyes glimmered with mischief, then he pushed away to hand a credit card to the passing waiter.

  She chugged water like a thirsty man in a dessert and scooped a piece of Kobe beef into her mouth, stopping herself from an oncoming inappropriate discussion.

  He stood and signed the bill, then snapped the black booklet shut before handing it back to the waiter. “Looking forward to working on the Digmore account, Shane. This should make our working relationship much more bearable.” He spun on his heel and exited the restaurant.

  Shane sat there in shock, her mouth full of beef as he walked away. Her body swarmed with anticipation and, finally, achievement. She smirked.

  “He’s totally interested.”

  7

  Hell’s Kitchen. A perfect area of New York to burn away the past and step into the future. Sometimes a person needed to walk through hell to come out the other side. Rejuvenation after seeing Jacob last week settled in Shane’s stomach.

  She settled into a bistro seat at a burger joint decorated with barn wood walls and a pictograph of a cartoon steer ready for slaughter. The area hummed with the Thursday lunch crowd.

  She tapped the screen of her smart phone.

  J: Running a little late. On my way.

  Jacob was notorious for lateness but not at his fault. Work demanded a lot of his attention, and she related.

  Tucking away precious moments used to be a priority for them. Every Thursday, much like today, a hotel not too far from their respective offices maintained a standing reservation under their names. Even though they lived together, their secret rendezvous from the chaos of their worlds gave them peace and a connection to always put each other first.

  The last time they’d met on a Thursday occurred on their eight-year anniversary, over two years ago. The memory flooded her like it was yesterday. Her naked, perched on the bed in Sergio Rossi gold stilettos with Swarovski crystals. The room covered in rose petals. The way he loved her like no man ever had or would. His touch. His kisses. His lovemaking. It always strengthened over time, and he acted as though every day could have been the last.

  She shoved the phone in her purse.

  “Shane?”

  “Oh, hi.” She forced a smile and stood to hug Jacob.

  “Are you okay, Lovely?” He moved the chair as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Green shirt. Chocolate brown suit. No tie. Matching pocket square. The one he wore on their last day together.

  She waved him off, placing a napkin into her lap. “Yes. It’s work.” Did he call her Lovely like he used to?

  He smiled, taking a well-worn paper menu from the ketchup caddy. “Something’s up.”

  She took a menu, smoothing out the curled corners. “You’re talking to me like you used to.”

  “It’s hard not to. The other night was…”

  “A relief,” she breathed out.

  He folded his hands in his lap, and his green eyes creased. “I was going to say eye opening.”

  The assumption they were on the same page wore heavy. “What do you mean?”

  “What can I getcha?” Shane peeled her eyes from Jacob to the waitress with intrusive timing. Her black hair was buzzed short, and a sleeve tattoo extended down her arm as she tapped a pencil to her notepad.

  “She’ll have a cheeseburger with ketchup only. Medium. The tomato and lettuce on the side. And I will have the blackened bison burger with everything, hold the onion.” Jacob perused the menu as if ordering for her was normal. “And a side of your loaded fries.” He tucked the menu back into its holder. “That should do it.”

  “Anything to drink?”

  His eyebrows motioned to Shane. “A chocolate shake and water, please.”

  “For you, sir?” He met Shane’s eyes, and she could have sworn they smiled at her.

  “Same.”

  They’d slipped into their old roles. Two years apart and the tension lifted. The waitress returned and plopped down their drinks, and Shane sucked on the straw to gather the thick creamy flavor of chocolate. Jacob watched intently. The coolness of the shake as she swallowed chilled the hot burst of lust blooming from his stare.

  “Still have the appetite I see,” he observed.

  “Yeah. It’s hard to find time to eat sometimes. Which reminds me: Congrats on signing Icarus Descending.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think congratulations are deserved.”

  She toyed with the straw, stirring the milkshake. “Why not?”

  “It’s what we do. We sign musicians.”

  “You make it sound like work.”

  Jacob loved the smell of wet ink on a contract. Lived for the thrill of pen scoring paper. He used to say it was his favorite sound next to her screaming his name. He never tired of competing in the industry to retain the best talent.

  He sucked a long pull from the straw. “This one was.”

  “We had you for a second, didn’t we?” She loved digging at him with competitive fun.

  He leaned his elbows on the table. The table appeared dwarfed by his tall size. But he commanded it, and she loved it.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he teased.

  “You could never admit I could hang with you.”

  “Oh, you did more than hang, baby. Brought me to my fucking knees most of the time.”

  A wave of attraction and memories passed through her like an apparition stealing her breath. “Stop.” Her hands slipped down the condensation of the glass and rested on the tabletop.

  His fingers flexed. “Sorry. It’s just hard sometimes.”

  She straightened. Did he think about her? “What is?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You can be honest, Jacob. Maybe we needed the other night to get us to open up.” She reached out for his hand. Her heart skipped a beat when, with a twitch of his fingers, he attempted to lace with hers. “We compete with each other every day out there. Let’s cut through the awkwardness and lay down our swords, okay?”

  He leaned back to allow the waitress to set his burger in front of him.

  “Anything else?” the waitress asked.

  “No, thanks.” He shifted his plate to align the square edge to the wood grain of the table. When he was satisfied, his focus returned to Shane. “It’s difficult seeing you here and not wanting things to be like we were. It was difficult at
the hotel last week too. Trying to reconcile you as a competitive colleague versus my submissive lover crosses wires.” He snagged a fry from the mountain of bier cheese, bacon, and chives sitting between them. He shoved it into his mouth.

  She swallowed. Hearing him use the word submissive dinged her. They’d never used the term to describe what they had. Yes, it was what they were, but the designation made it sound arranged and impersonal.

  “Is that what you thought?” She cut her burger down the middle, separating the two halves. Dominant and submissive.

  “What?”

  “I was your submissive lover?”

  “You were. In addition to my girlfriend. Life partner. Whatever.” He waved it off to swat away his word choices.

  “It’s strange hearing you say submissive. I mean I wouldn’t have called you my Dominant.”

  He stopped mid bite into his enormous burger, then bit down and chewed to digest her statement. “Why not?”

  She laughed. “You can’t be serious, Jacob.”

  “I’m very serious. Why wouldn’t you have considered me your Dominant? We did things falling into those buckets. I owned your sweet, beautiful body.” He smiled, and her throat constricted. Dancing around memories wouldn’t change their future.

  “We were young. We didn’t even know what it meant. It’s not like we belonged to some local community and practiced the art of it with other people.”

  “Is that what you think a Dom/sub relationship is?”

  “What do you mean?” She bit her burger, and the juice dripped down her fingers.

  “Do you think it can only hold a label if people are in a group where they can outwardly identify with one another?”

  He did have a point. Although she thought what they had was more. A Dom/sub relationship, to her, only meant a power exchange between two people playing a bedroom game. He said what he wanted and she did it. Both received sexual satisfaction and intimacy while building layers of trust. But outside the bedroom, they weren’t in those roles. Or at least she didn’t feel the labels existed any longer once they crossed the threshold.

  “Well, no.”

  “What did you think we had? No. Let me rephrase. What is your definition of D/s?”

  “Two people having a power exchange for sexual pleasure.”

  “And?”

  “And, what? That’s what it is.” Wasn’t it? It appeared so on the surface.

  “Why did you kneel for me?”

  “Jacob, let’s not do this.” She set her burger in its basket.

  “No, let’s. Maybe this is what we were missing. Because it sure as hell felt like more than a sexual connection.” His voice became razor sharp with anxiety.

  “It did for me too, but it won’t change anything.”

  “Maybe not. But maybe it’ll help clarify where we were as a couple.” He steepled two fingers over his lips as though his food had suddenly become uninteresting. His sharp green gaze held anticipation and focus. Whenever Jacob was working through something, he gave it his entire attention. The friction of attraction against uneasiness rubbed like sandpaper in her throat as she tried to speak. Why did this matter to him? What was he exploring?

  Her phone rang, and she went to grab it.

  “Leave it.”

  His command left her hands hovering over her purse. Not because he said to, but because the last time they were together—at their last hotel rendezvous, on a Thursday afternoon—her phone had rung. A shrill sound she wouldn’t forget. They had rules about letting anyone interrupt their time together, yet she had insisted on answering it. It was the phone call informing her of her father’s death. It was the beginning of the end for Shane and Jacob. It was the butterfly effect, sending them on a downward spiral. Work had granted the only distraction to keep her from losing her soul, and in the midst of it all, Jacob had left.

  She pivoted to face him head on, placing her hands in her lap. The phone wouldn’t dictate their time together. This was important. Soon the incessant noise ceased, leaving them in peace.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Why did you kneel for me all those years ago?”

  “Because you told me to.”

  “Is that the only reason?” He narrowed his eyes in curiosity.

  “No.” She smoothed her lips between her teeth. “Because it pleased you.”

  “And?”

  “It pleased me to do it for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I loved you.”

  Loved. A fucked up past tense word she wished could be struck from her vocabulary. But it wasn’t worth exploring love. A pesky present tense word, which also didn’t belong in her lexicon. It was over. But why did her heart thump from her chest?

  He sighed, taking the arrow with her. When he scratched his bearded chin, the sound of friction scored her heart, a delicate glass shell now marked with disappointment and failure.

  “We were connected in the mind and secured in the heart.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as though something was stuck, and he needed to force it out. “A D/s relationship is more than bedroom fanfare, Shane. It’s where two souls defy all odds against a centrifuge of emotion, bonding characteristics of reality, fantasy, past, and futures to come out as one being.”

  Her eyes widened. How did he explain it so eloquently? So majestically?

  “If you felt that way, why did you leave?”

  “That’s something I ask myself every day.” Why not ’fess up? Was he protecting her feelings? Would the answer be the damaging encore to his beautiful soliloquy?

  “You haven’t been with anyone else in that way?” Her heart did the talking now, and jealousy waited in the wings to suffocate her.

  “In a D/s arrangement, sure. But never in a relationship.” He raised two fingers. “Two different things.”

  So what if he was with another woman as long as he didn’t give his heart. And why did she care if he had? She was about to get into an arrangement too. At The Resort. And who knew if the masked man she chose would become something more.

  But would there ever be a man worthy of a relationship with her? Or would Jacob always own her soul?

  “Wow. Can I throw a congratulations lunch or what?”

  “Lovely,” he whispered.

  She grimaced. “You can’t call me that anymore, Jacob.”

  “I understand.”

  “How did we get here? To this conversation, I mean.” The edges of the napkin in her hand shredded through her fingertips like their relationship.

  He pushed his half eaten lunch away. “It was a long time coming.”

  “So now what?”

  “Now? We go on our way.”

  He held out a hand across the table. She slipped hers into it. Yes, they would go on their way. Alone. Forging a two-pronged parallel journey apart.

  8

  Preparation for the members appreciation night at The Resort should have a rising tide of anticipation, yet a souring swell in the pit in Shane’s stomach ruined the experience. What should have been an evening of enjoyment was now clouded by a final separation from Jacob and Gavin’s implication of a personal relationship on the horizon.

  On one hand, the Jacob separation provided a lighter bounce in her step. They would always have a past love, but their future was non-existent. They’d decided to move apart. Together. Not one side forcing the distance like before.

  On the other hand, Gavin’s advances could not be mistaken. He hit all her hot buttons. Shouldn’t her normal reaction be anger? Fear? Anxiety? How dare he come on to his boss? And he didn’t even like her. Or did he? But it was too late. She was in the game and whatever lay hidden would soon be out in the open.

  Pinning back her hair, she shook her head. Tonight was about her. Her freedom. Her escape. Her mystery man.

  She brushed charcoal eye shadow on her eyelids. Who would he be? Her skin warmed. If anything, it would be an unforgettable experience. Disrobing, Shane slipped on a black thong. It offered some layer of protection before th
e evening whisked her away. The dress spread out on her bed fell over her shoulders.

  “You got this,” she said aloud.

  Each small movement toward getting ready amped the already pressing desire between her legs. The magnificent silver shoes David had picked out curled her toes.

  “There.” She stared at her reflection. The murmur of male voices traveled from the living room. Her escorts had arrived.

  Practically skipping into the room, Shane beamed. Sean whistled, causing her to spin around. “You like?”

  “Like? I love. You might not make it through the door before one of the Doms stakes their claim,” he said.

  “We were going for the seen-and-be-captured look.” David laughed. “Ready?”

  “Almost.” She walked to the coffee table and lifted the lid of the velvet box, stopping to exhale. She smoothed on the gloves and put the key card, a condom, and the mask into her clutch. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

  The group arrived at the club in a limousine David insisted they take to the event. Shane shook her arms to relieve the nerves, which had built on the ride over. “Here goes nothing.” She tied her mask around her face.

  David straightened Sean’s mask. “You okay, doll?”

  “I feel like its prom, and I’m about to lose my virginity.”

  Sean leaned forward on the bench seat and lifted her chin. “Shane, remember: You don’t have to play. You can just enjoy the night. Okay?” His dark eyes were kind behind his red mask. His tux fit perfectly on his large frame.

  “I know.” Her shoulders rose and fell.

  He dropped his hand to her lap, squeezing her thigh. “We’re here for you. If things get too intense, let us know and we’ll leave. Got it?”

  “I’ll be fine once I get in there.”

  David opened the door and slid out with Sean in tow. She stepped onto the curb as Sean held her hand. Allowing her room to lead, they approached the entrance. An average gray door called to her, unassuming to anyone passing by it, but it was the gateway to dark fantasies.

  Shane swiped the metal keycard. The red light beeped and flashed green. The sound of the lock opening shot her anxiety sky high. Before crossing the threshold, she allowed the last of her nerves and identity to fade into the city sidewalk.