Part 17 (1/2)

She didn't want to wrap up anything but Paige, in her arms, between the sheets, flesh on flesh. She wasn't ready to leave right now. Wasn't ready to play hero. Playing the mysterious playmate was all she cared about. Getting to know more about Paige. f.u.c.king Paige. Was that asking too d.a.m.n much?

With any luck, Hurricane Elena would simmer down in the next day. Or if all else failed, she would drift to the right and exit into Cuban territory. Or turn left and maneuver out into the Gulf where she would more than likely fall apart. Storms churned through the Caribbean Sea all the time; most petered themselves out before they reached land.

Please let Elena be another teaser. She wasn't ready to end this game. Not when the stakes seemed so high.

”I've got the team on standby and already checked the stock on the warehouse in the Dominican Republic. We're ready when Elena makes her move.”

Mayson tossed the remote on the bed with a grunt. If Elena meant business, that meant Mayson would be out of the country on the tail of a monster. Again.

”Dammit.” As much as Mayson loved being an aid, as much as it gave her a rushed high to be a so-called hero, she suddenly dreaded the thought of leaving.

Not when she had Paige dangling like a carrot.

She still had one more move in this game. She had to prove to Paige she could be all the mystery she ever needed.

Mayson had found her once. Now she'd found her again.

She didn't want to let her go.

It was time for Paige to unveil her.

Paige spotted a note tucked in the door as she paused in front of the lingerie shop. A red X was clearly visible. She glanced around. The streets were empty save for a couple holding hands slipping over a dune headed to the beach. The ocean waves crashed in the distance.

She plucked the note from the door and opened it.

Follow the light, Fedora.

Paige peeked through the edge of the blinds. Candles burned on the floor and rose petals were scattered over the carpet like delicate pink confetti.

With her stomach tied in knots, Paige stepped inside. The scents of jasmine and lavender collided with her already-frazzled senses. Another note was lying on the floor.

Lock the door.

Who was this woman? Vinden. Did she own the shop? Work here? Vinden was connected somehow, and Paige gave herself a mental agenda to come back with the morning light to investigate. Someone here knew who her mystery woman was. Someone knew her face. Knew her name.

Tomorrow, maybe, Paige would, too.

She twisted the lock into place and followed the mixture of pink and white rose petals as well as flickering candles across the room until she reached another note.

366 miles to our second beginning.

Paige frowned at the note. She had no clue what it meant, only that it was another riddle to figuring out who Vinden was. It seemed Vinden wanted to be unveiled. Wanted Paige to know who she was.

Paige expelled a sigh. Did she truly want to know? Would the game end if she knew? Was she ready to end this? Did she want the mystery to come to a close?

No. She didn't. Not yet. She'd searched too long, too hard, to find s.e.xual bliss. She wasn't prepared for it to end.

Paige let the note drop back to the carpet and continued along the lit path down a hallway leading to the dressing rooms. The white walls flicked in yellow from the numerous candles set apart every foot.

This was all so romantic. So mysterious. So...Paige.

She stopped in front of the last door, the largest cubicle. Another note was attached.

Last chance, Fedora.

Paige took in a shallow breath. Unafraid of the s.e.xual threat, she pushed open the door. The room was empty. A glossy wooden bench surrounded the room and mirrors dominated every wall. A single candle in the center of the longest bench flicked light over a soft pink nightgown.

She stepped closer. Even in the dim lighting, Paige could tell how elegant the lingerie was. She ran her finger over baby-soft satin, then along the lace hem. It was so beautiful. So...sweet. Paige had never owned anything so expensive. There was never a reason for her to possess anything so fancy. She didn't have anyone for whom to wear such finery. Damien didn't count.

Another note was tucked into the vee.

Put me on. I am yours.

Vinden sure knew how to wow a girl. She knew exactly what she was doing, charming Paige with candy trinkets while slipping in precious gifts. Paige could get used to this quickly.

Not wanting to waste any time, Paige shoved out of her jeans and blouse and pulled the silk over her head. The diaphanous material felt like gossamer against her skin.

She turned slowly, checking her reflection from all angles, then pushed her hair on top of her head and imagined Vinden slipping her hand beneath the hem, working her fingers between her thighs, making her come while Paige watched herself in this mirror.

Her insides gripped with the thought.

Who the h.e.l.l was this Vinden?

Better question, where the h.e.l.l was she?

From the cubicle beside Paige, Mayson listened to the sound of clothes falling softly to the carpet. Her stomach tied in knots as she twisted the k.n.o.b and quietly slipped out into the hallway.

On the other side of that louvered door, Paige awaited. Waited for Vinden. Waited for all the things the mystery of Vinden offered her. All the things Mayson wanted to give her. Not as Vinden. As Mayson. As the real Mayson.

She wanted a chance to prove to Paige she could find her fantasy inside reality.

Soon. Hopefully, very soon.

Mayson paused outside the dressing room and donned the mask. The storm churning up the Caribbean waters was going to ensure this might be the last night she got to wear it.

From years of experience, she knew she could be out of the country for weeks, possibly a month. By then, Paige would have figured out the riddles. Figured out the woman behind the mask was Mayson. By then... Mayson didn't want to confront the uncertainty of how Paige would react.

With one last calming breath, Mayson turned the k.n.o.b, then stepped through the door.

Paige spun around and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders and framed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Mayson had never seen anything, anyone, more beautiful. And now her beauty was illuminated in pale yellow light. Soft pink satin fanned around her tanned thighs. Spaghetti straps crossed delicately over her shoulders. Her auburn hair was like spun copper against her skin.

By far, she was the most stunning woman Mayson had ever laid her eyes on. She was star struck as Paige's chest heaved. She wanted to crawl all over her, starting with those pink tipped toes, and work her way up those lean thighs, that flat stomach, stalling long enough to treat those hardened nipples with a kiss before pus.h.i.+ng her fingers inside those tight, slick walls.

Mayson stepped toward her and Paige backed against the mirror, right where Mayson wanted her. She towered over her, admiring the l.u.s.tful expression, admiring that she had the power to provoke such intense longing in anybody.

Paige licked her lips.