moment of her life, and yes, dammit, he was the same sexy bastard who invaded her dreams and gave her more orgasms than her damn vibrator, but what if it wasn’t him? And what if it was?
Wouldn’t he remember me? Should I ask him to take off his mask? The questions whirled in her brain, answers lost in the haze. God, I want to kiss him.
Crap!
Okay. Just go with it for a while longer, her conscience encouraged. Just to be sure. Karis turned her entire body to face him and narrowed her eyes.
Chapter 8
She knew. Yes, it had crossed Michael’s mind--or rather last night’s fantasy--that she would show up tonight, but he and Scott had come to this bar numerous times since that night more than three years ago, and she’d never shown. And here she was. He still couldn’t believe it. Michael ran his eyes over her again and inhaled. Hints of orange and honey dizzied his brain. She’s so damn gorgeous . From her black patent-leather fuck-me shoes, those impossibly long black fishnet-covered legs, to the too-short mini skirt, she sure-as-shit commanded every hetero cock in the room to stand at attention. Michael clenched his jaw, noticing the bustier allowed the shadow of her nipples to bounce off the lace lining of her bodice. Her russet hair fell a bit longer than before, brushing the tops of her breasts. A crimson hood crowned her head, making her creamy complexion flawless. His perusal ended and lingered on those emerald eyes smiling in unison with her fuckable red-stained lips.
Michael stole a moment to mull over her behavior. Did he like horny Karis? Fuck yeah , he did. But now he wavered between being completely pissed off and cursing the clothing separating him from her luscious body. But, for all intents and purposes, Karis was seducing a stranger. Michael would have never taken her for the type to pick up men in bars, so what the hell was she doing?
His breath stunted in his chest as he dropped his eyes to her left hand. No ring. From her reaction before, he knew she wouldn’t have forgotten it again. He knew many widows, his mother included, who continued to wear their wedding rings years after their husbands’ death. Michael couldn’t stop from pondering Karis’s reasoning. Perhaps she had grieved enough? Perhaps she was ready to move on? She had lost her husband, a man Michael new she loved; she had told him herself, but the man had also deceived her and she carried a wealth of anger.
So, was she ready to move on? More importantly, was she ready for Michael?
So how the hell would he start the conversation?
“Hey, remember me? I’m the guy who’s been bored with my life until the moment I saw you. Oh, and that happened to be the night you confessed your inner most feelings about your dying husband. ” Yeah, she’d snack on that little desperate statement for a nanosecond and then spit it back at him.
Fuck, even “so, how have you been” sounded insensitive.
If he had half a brain, he would just leave the bar. But he knew exactly why he wouldn’t. That night branded his memory with what-ifs. What if he had kissed her? What if he had sought her out? What if he did anything besides allow her to walk out that door without a way to contact each other? But now all he was left with was when should I take off this goddamn mask because, frankly, she embodied the classic fairy tale heroine--a heady mix of naughty and nice—and Michael was fully cocked and set to villainize the shit out of her…
A s soon as he figured out how to pull that off.
***
B ut what if it wasn’t him. You have to be sure.
Wouldn’t he remember me? Definitely not acting like it. Should I ask him to take off his mask? The questions whirled in her brain, answers lost in the haze. Just go with it for a while longer , her conscience encouraged. Just to be sure. Karis narrowed her eyes a bit and turned her entire body to face him.
“Do you have a name , Mr. Wolf?” Please, for the
Wouldn’t he remember me? Should I ask him to take off his mask? The questions whirled in her brain, answers lost in the haze. God, I want to kiss him.
Crap!
Okay. Just go with it for a while longer, her conscience encouraged. Just to be sure. Karis turned her entire body to face him and narrowed her eyes.
Chapter 8
She knew. Yes, it had crossed Michael’s mind--or rather last night’s fantasy--that she would show up tonight, but he and Scott had come to this bar numerous times since that night more than three years ago, and she’d never shown. And here she was. He still couldn’t believe it. Michael ran his eyes over her again and inhaled. Hints of orange and honey dizzied his brain. She’s so damn gorgeous . From her black patent-leather fuck-me shoes, those impossibly long black fishnet-covered legs, to the too-short mini skirt, she sure-as-shit commanded every hetero cock in the room to stand at attention. Michael clenched his jaw, noticing the bustier allowed the shadow of her nipples to bounce off the lace lining of her bodice. Her russet hair fell a bit longer than before, brushing the tops of her breasts. A crimson hood crowned her head, making her creamy complexion flawless. His perusal ended and lingered on those emerald eyes smiling in unison with her fuckable red-stained lips.
Michael stole a moment to mull over her behavior. Did he like horny Karis? Fuck yeah , he did. But now he wavered between being completely pissed off and cursing the clothing separating him from her luscious body. But, for all intents and purposes, Karis was seducing a stranger. Michael would have never taken her for the type to pick up men in bars, so what the hell was she doing?
His breath stunted in his chest as he dropped his eyes to her left hand. No ring. From her reaction before, he knew she wouldn’t have forgotten it again. He knew many widows, his mother included, who continued to wear their wedding rings years after their husbands’ death. Michael couldn’t stop from pondering Karis’s reasoning. Perhaps she had grieved enough? Perhaps she was ready to move on? She had lost her husband, a man Michael new she loved; she had told him herself, but the man had also deceived her and she carried a wealth of anger.
So, was she ready to move on? More importantly, was she ready for Michael?
So how the hell would he start the conversation?
“Hey, remember me? I’m the guy who’s been bored with my life until the moment I saw you. Oh, and that happened to be the night you confessed your inner most feelings about your dying husband. ” Yeah, she’d snack on that little desperate statement for a nanosecond and then spit it back at him.
Fuck, even “so, how have you been” sounded insensitive.
If he had half a brain, he would just leave the bar. But he knew exactly why he wouldn’t. That night branded his memory with what-ifs. What if he had kissed her? What if he had sought her out? What if he did anything besides allow her to walk out that door without a way to contact each other? But now all he was left with was when should I take off this goddamn mask because, frankly, she embodied the classic fairy tale heroine--a heady mix of naughty and nice—and Michael was fully cocked and set to villainize the shit out of her…
A s soon as he figured out how to pull that off.
***
B ut what if it wasn’t him. You have to be sure.
Wouldn’t he remember me? Definitely not acting like it. Should I ask him to take off his mask? The questions whirled in her brain, answers lost in the haze. Just go with it for a while longer , her conscience encouraged. Just to be sure. Karis narrowed her eyes a bit and turned her entire body to face him.
“Do you have a name , Mr. Wolf?” Please, for the
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