Beneath This Mask (Beneath, #1)(39)

I reflected on his words for a moment. My life had been ruthlessly organized, everything handed to me before I could even think to ask for it. But that was just it. I hadn’t asked for any of it. Not the designer clothes or the riding lessons or the schedule cluttered with suitable social engagements. I’d been given, and had done, whatever my parents had deemed appropriate for me. And I had to wonder if they had given those choices remotely as much thought as Simon had in planning this picnic.


I reached for an olive and popped it into my mouth. “How come some smart Southern belle hasn’t snapped you up already?”

He smirked. “I’m trying to get a sassy Yankee to, but she’s not catching on as quickly as I’d hoped. I’m starting to wonder if she’s not as smart as I thought.”

I threw an olive at his head, and he caught it in his mouth. He popped the tops off two beers and handed one to me. He held his out, the neck of the bottle angled toward me.

“To an unexpected night,” he said. I clinked my bottle with his and nabbed a slice of tenderloin.

I chewed and swallowed it. “Holy crap, that’s good. Where did all of this come from?”

“My kitchen.”

I was glad I wasn’t still chewing because I would’ve choked. “Are you serious? You cook too?”

“I’d say yes just to keep that look on your face, but it’d mostly be a lie. My parents’ housekeeper is jetting off on a two-week vacation tomorrow and asked if there was anything she could do for me before she left. I shamelessly begged her for help.”

He reached for a piece of flatbread and scooped up some hummus. I pressed a hand to my chest and made a poor attempt at a Southern drawl. “Well, thank the Lord for that; I almost swooned.”

I took a swig of my beer as he finished chewing. “Oh, you’ll swoon, I have no doubt. After all, I am devastatingly charming.”

We lingered over the food and talked about everything and yet nothing of substance. I loved that he didn’t push for more than I was willing to give, but I wondered if it would always be that way or if at some point he would lose his patience with me and demand answers. But I didn’t want to think about that right now. Not on such a perfect night.

We’d just popped the tops off the last two beers as fireworks burst over the river. I jumped at the thunderous percussion, and Simon pulled me against him. I followed him down until we lay side by side on the blanket, staring up at the exploding blues and reds and glittering whites against the cloud-covered night sky. This was one more thing I loved about New Orleans. You never knew when there’d be fireworks. The masses of partiers would pause a moment from downing their Hurricanes and stare upward to enjoy the simple pleasure.

Simon threaded his fingers through mine as vibrant colors continued to flare across the sky and the acrid scent of black powder hung in the air. He toyed with my fingers, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss each one. He moved on to my palm and nipped the base with his teeth.

I knew exactly how this picnic was going to end.





I started to sit up as Charlie rolled and threw her leg over my hips. She pinned me, hair blowing in the river breeze, and shoved me back down. Her face was cast in shadows, but I could still make out her determined expression.

“Nope. You’re not going anywhere.”

I reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “That so?”

“Yep.” The word popped from her lips. “You’re going to pay up on all this teasing hand crap.”

I chuckled. I loved her no-bullshit, straight-to-the-point attitude. It was something that was lacking in all other aspects of my life. “Teasing hand crap, is that what that was?”

She shifted against me, and her dress inched up her thighs. “Call it whatever you want, the consequences are still the same.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“I’d rather show.”

“Even better.”

She reached down to the skirt of her dress and began pulling it upward. I was riveted, waiting for all that gorgeous skin to be uncovered, when she paused.

“What? What’s wrong?” I looked around, wondering if she’d spotted someone. But that wasn’t the cause of her hesitation.

“Why do I feel like I’m always stripping my clothes off in front of you?”

I bit my lip to hold back a grin. “I don’t know, but you will never hear me complain about you getting naked for me.”

“You didn’t seem to have a hard time walking away from me that night … in the pool. I distinctly recall being very, very naked.”

I cupped her chin, pulling her face down to mine. “What you don’t seem to get, is that even then, I was playing the long game. I knew you were something special, and I wasn’t going to take the chance that I’d only get a taste. I knew that once I did, I’d be addicted. That I’d have to have more. I needed you to be as off balance as I was.” I kissed the corner of her mouth. “And it worked.”

She shoved away from me. “You’re such a smug bastard.” She drew her dress up over her head and let it flutter to the blanket beside us. “Why don’t you put that tongue to good use?”


My heart hammered as I took her in. Again, I wished for more light, because I wanted to see her, memorize her. She was my addiction. I just hoped she wouldn’t be lethal. Regardless, I was in too deep to pull back.