Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
The club owner pirate returns to center stage and explains that the men will parade across the stage for a costume contest. The audience will vote for their favorites by cheering, something they have a lot of practice doing.
After a few minutes, I spot my vampire far back in a line so long it trails off of one side of the stage. Since he’s clearly not coming back to me anytime soon, I decide to check my makeup in the restroom. I toss my empty water bottle in a recycling bin near the restroom entrance and find an open spot at a mirror.
There’s a pale smudge just below my jaw, and when I touch it, gray grease paint transfers to my fingertips. Since the vampire’s fangs look so real, it’s a relief to know that his ghostly pallor is artificial.
I reapply my lipstick, adjust my hair and hat, which has gone askew after being pressed against the wall, and make a quick exit, hoping to get back out to the showroom in time to cheer for my vampire.
I’m looking toward the stage, not watching where I’m going, when I bump into a man coming out of the adjacent doorway. His arms immediately reach out to stop me from falling, and before he steadies me, I end up with my face pressed against bare pectoral muscles so strong they feel like they could stop a train.
CHAPTER SEVEN
His mouth moves in apology, though I can’t hear him clearly over the vote-by-yelling that’s in full swing.
“I’m sorry. That was my fault,” I say in a near-shout, as I fix my hat again and take in his costume, which is one of the most unusual I’ve seen tonight.
He’s wearing a wild gray and white wig, the hair sticking out in all directions. There are thick steampunk goggles covering his eyes, with lenses so dark that I wonder if he actually can see where he’s going.
A white lab coat completes his mad scientist persona, though it’s completely open, which is why I had the opportunity to make direct contact with his rock solid muscles.
Even though I’m firmly on my feet now, his hands are still on me, holding me in place. Those hands squeeze my arms as a big smile erupts on his painted face, which is made up to look like an invention has exploded on him, streaks of sooty-looking paint splattering across his features, though the makeup doesn’t hide the fact that he has a great smile, a perfect match for his stunning body.
He takes my hand and spins me around, checking out my costume as he does a little dance in his. He nods, and his eyebrows, barely visible above his goggles, wiggle in approval, making me laugh.
When he ushers me away from the restroom doors, I expect him to leave me, but instead, he keeps hold of my hand and continues to dance with me, even though the music is barely audible during brief gaps in the crowd’s cheers.
“Don’t you need to be on stage?” I gesture toward the costume contest to help him understand, since he probably can’t hear me.
He turns his head in that direction, shrugs, and spins me around again before pulling me in close, up against that stunning chest of his again.
“Oh!” I’m startled by the move, but not at all unhappy about it. This is officially the best Halloween party I’ve ever attended, and when I find Autumn later, I’m going to thank her for inviting me. Once I’m done dancing with all of these hot men, of course.
A recent memory of the vampire comes to mind. Even though he didn’t speak, I distinctly got the impression that he’d seek me out again. Is it going to be a problem if he finds me dancing with this merry mad scientist, who seems reluctant to let me go?
The man spins me again, then puts his arms around me from behind, his hard chest now pressing against my back, his hands roaming my body.
It’s a ridiculous thought, but I feel like I’m cheating on the vampire. The vampire kissed me, and I’d enjoy kissing him again, but I don’t even know him. This is a party where we’re all meant to mingle, and if these Club Red dancers want to get a bit handsy, I’m not going to stop them.
Not when it feels this good.
His hands are rough in the very best way, creating a delicious friction as they slide over my arms, then drag across the fabric of my dress, making me wish I was naked. He traces the curves of my waist and my hips, and I let out a sigh as my body melts into his.
When he leads me to a chair and has me sit down, I’m relieved, since my legs were starting to go weak.