Also by Vitina Rose #2
Not enough to stumble, but enough to stop pretending. People drop the act when they’re buzzed. And Bunny? She just dropped hers in my lap like a loaded gun.
I inch a little closer, slow and subtle. Just enough that my arm brushes hers when I lean against the bar.
She doesn’t move away from me.
Perfect.
“You’re not a bunny though, are you?” I murmur, voice rough from the alcohol and the blood now rushing south .
That gets her attention.
“No?” She glances at me, lashes fluttering at the edge of the black mask.
“Nah.” I shake my head slowly. “Too sharp. You’re something else entirely.”
“What am I then?” She cocks her head.
“A trap.” I lower my head and my voice.
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t pull back.
“Big word for a guy wearing a twenty-dollar mask and wet dreams for brains.”
I can’t help it. I fucking laugh—loud and full-bodied.
“God,” I say, shaking my head.
“God,” she echoes, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “You can call me that if it helps.”
Fuck. She’s good.
“You always this charming when you’re drunk?” I tilt my head, studying her.
“You always this horny when you’re bored?” She shrugs.
Touché. I bite back a grin.
She finishes her drink, then sets the glass down with a quiet clink. Her fingers trail the rim once, lazily. With the same hand, she brushes against my chest as she straightens up.
“Thanks for the entertainment, Mr. Ghost. But even with that mask, I can see you’ve got that look,” she says, eyeing me through her lashes.
“And what look is that?” I tilt my head to the side.
She leans in, and I instinctively lean down to meet her halfway. Her mouth brushes past my ear like she’s about to confess murder.
“The look of a man who ruins things just to see what’s left after.”
“Well then, lucky for you, you look like something I’d ruin beautifully,” I shoot back, snaking my hand around her waist.
Her breath catches just enough for me to notice. She’s tipsy enough to flirt recklessly. I’m sober enough to remember every word.
She looks up at me, mask angled just enough to catch the light.
“I came here with someone, actually,” she says, sounding half-apologetic and half-amused.
I blink once and immediately scan the space .
No one’s hovering—no boyfriend in sight, no handsy guy lurking behind her.
Nothing but a blur of glitter, booze, and slutty desperation.
I grin under the mask.
“Yeah?” I say, glancing behind her like I’m looking for a threat. “Where’s he hiding? Bathroom? Crying? Plotting my murder?”
“He disappeared a while ago.” She smirks.
I let that sit for a second, let the implication burn slow.
So she’s here, alone now.
“He left you alone in a place like this?” I ask, voice low and teasing. “With a guy like me?”
She rolls her eyes, and all I can think about is making her do it again—preferably with my cock inside her.
“I was already leaving anyway,” she says, eyes gleaming behind the mask.
Oh, Bunny.
“That was fast,” I murmur, letting my gaze drag down her body and back up. “Should I call my driver? ”
“Did you make that offer to every girl at this party?” She arches a brow.
“Not at all.”
“You flatter me,” she says sweetly, and equally as sarcastic.
She doesn’t back away when I lean in, doesn’t flinch when my hand brushes her hip. She just watches me with her lips parted and her little bravado crumbling.
I let my fingers graze the curve of her waist, slow and easy, testing the line.
She shifts slightly, letting me—encouraging, inviting, and deadly.
I let my hand slide up her back, lean in just enough that my mouth skims her ear.
“I could do more to you,” I say, voice low.
She hums, like she’s considering it. Her body’s warm under my touch. Her breath a little faster now.
I know this game. I always fucking win this game. So I go in for the kill. My hand slips behind her neck, thumb grazing the edge of her jaw.
“Say the word,” I murmur. “And I’ll make sure you forget every other guy at this party. ”
“Bold of you to assume I even remembered them in the first place.” She leans into me, her voice all syrup and sin.
And then she pushes my hand off her with a playful little shove and steps back.
“I’m leaving.” Her lips curl into a smirk as she glances down at her phone.
“With me?” I raise a brow, even though she can’t see it.
“Absolutely not.” She grins, meeting my eyes.
Motherf—
“You sure?” I ask, cocking my head, stepping into her again. “What if this is the last time I ever see you? You really wanna risk that?”
She doesn’t answer.
She reaches out instead, grabs my wrist, and rolls up the sleeve of my hoodie with delicate fingers.
I frown, watching her. What is she up to?
“That would be tragic,” she mutters, pulling something small and silver from her purse.
I glance down at the little stick. Eyeliner?
“Careful not to smudge it,” she says without looking up. “It’s not waterproof. ”
And then she starts writing on the inside of my forearm. The curve of the tip trailing over my skin is way too sensual for a number.
I smile again, before glancing down at my forearm.
Nine digits.
“You give me a real one?” I ask, raising a brow. “Or is this just your pizza delivery line?”
“Worst case scenario, you’ll get pizza.” She looks me dead in the eye.
I don’t get a chance to respond because a heavy hand smacks me on the back.
“Dude!” Nate yells, stumbling into view. “The twins just started making out on the bar. Let’s fucking go!”
I groan, barely even glancing at him. “Jesus, Nate, give a man a minute—”
I turn back around.
Gone.
She’s gone.
My heart kicks as I scan the crowd, eyes darting… nothing. Just masks, heat, and chaos. But her number’s still burning into my skin.
And I know two things .
One—I’m going to find her again.
And two—she won’t be able to escape me once I do.
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