Chapter 25
GALINA
My face scrunches up in protest against the daylight.
Rude.
At first, I try to squeeze my eyes shut even tighter shut, like that will get me back to sleep. But it just wakes up my brain a little more.
Great.
My head hurts. Not like a hangover, more like a fuzzy, foggy, dull ache. And my feet are killing me.
Right. The party. Dancing. Absinthe…
My face sours again at the memory of the taste. With a groan, I try to burrow deeper into the blankets and the strong, muscled arms wrapped tight around—
What.
The.
Fuck.
Very quickly, I am wide awake.
I stifle a scream when my gaze drops to the masculine, tattooed arms wrapped around me from behind. I’m suddenly also aware of a shirtless, muscled chest pressed against my very naked back…
But just as sheer panic threatens to explode out of me in a bloodcurdling scream, the final events of the night begin to slide out of the fog in my head.
The Ghost Prince.
The sight of him materializing out of the shadows. The realization that he wasn’t watching me through cameras. He was here, in my room.
…and he’s still here.
My pulse skips as I ever so slowly and gently twist under the weight of his arm thrown over my body. I turn my head gradually, my eyes swiveling to their limit…
My core clenches as my gaze finally settles on him.
He’s still wearing his mask.
Part of me wondered if he might not be. I mean, I have no idea why he stayed with me last night. From what little I remember, I'm pretty sure I was a mess.
But he’s still here.
I shift, turning a bit more so I can see him better. Soft, glowy, early morning light dances in delicate lines across his shoulder and his neck through the edges of the curtains. My eyes dart to the clock on my desk. Five forty-two a.m.
Slowly, my gaze drags back to his masked face as I feel my body un-clench.
I think he’s still sleeping.
A quiet smile lifts the corners of my lips as I watch him.
He stayed.
I vaguely remember him carrying me into bed, even tucking me in.
My lip teases between my teeth.
I’ve never shared a bed with someone before. Well, aside from the times Arianna and I have conked out watching a movie together.
But that’s different. Ari and I were always wearing clothes.
Why am I not wearing a shirt—
My eyes fly open even wider as another part of the evening comes rushing back: Ari helping me out of my dress, me shuffling across the room kicking off my panties…
Oh God.
I’m not just topless.
I’m completely naked.
For a second, I completely freeze, feeling the heat of his bare skin against my back. The slight twitch of his arm against mine as he sleeps.
Then a slow, sly smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
For the very first time, I’m in bed, naked, with a guy. And nothing about the situation has me freaking out or bolting from the room screaming.
Not the fact that I don’t really remember how I got to bed last night. Not that I didn’t ask him to join me. Not that he’s shirtless, too. Not that the man in my bed is wearing a tactical mask, and I still don’t know who the fuck he is.
The moments tick by as I lie there in his arms, trying to figure out how I feel about this.
It doesn’t take long.
Good.
I feel good about this.
The smile returns to my face, and I allow myself to sink back into his arms a little more, feeling his pulse against my skin. The slow rise and fall of his chest at my back. The intimacy I’ve never felt before. The warm, thick pulse of—
Oh.
…I’m not the only one who's naked.
Heat instantly pools between my thighs as I feel the heavy throb of his erection against my ass. A tingle traces up my spine as I arch my back, my core tightening as I nudge my butt back against his cock.
God, he’s big.
I slowly twist slightly to glance at him over my shoulder again. The juxtaposition of the soft, gauzy, almost romantic light of early morning across his mask coupled with the needy, raw heat between my legs and the hungry pulse of his cock…
Yeah.
I let my gaze trace over his mask again as he sleeps. I nibble at my lip as I eye the edge of it, at his jaw.
I could slip it off. I would know for sure who he is.
If he is who I think he is.
…Who I think I might WANT him to be…
My hand slowly lifts from the bedsheets.
“Still trying to figure out if I’m asleep?”
“FUCK!” I scream as I all but lurch out of the bed. The only reason I don’t is that his arms latch like steel around me, stopping me. So instead, I just squirm against him as adrenaline floods my system.
“How long have you been awake?!” I hiss.
He chuckles quietly. “I was never asleep.”
“Asshole!” I blurt, my face heating as I reach over my shoulder to punch his.
The Ghost Prince chuckles. His voice isn’t modulated like usual. He’s clearly altering it, but that robotic tone isn’t there, as if he at least removed that part of his disguise when he decided to sleep in my bed with me.
Or not sleep, I guess.
“You scared the shit out of me!” I mutter. I shift again, but his arm stays locked around me.
“How’d you sleep?” he growls.
My forehead pinches. “Fine? I guess?” My brows furrow deeper. “What...I mean, why are you…?”
“You asked me to stay last night.”.
My mouth twists. “I did?”
“Actually,” a chuckling sound hitches in his chest against my back. “It was more like you begged me to.”
Fuck. I honestly do not remember that part. I groan and drop my head to the pillow.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Worn out,” I mumble, surprised by the gentleness and concern in his voice. “Not really hungover, just…” I frown and half-twist in his arms to face him again. “Did you say I was on drugs last night?”
He nods. “Ecstasy. Some asshole dosed the absinthe at the party last night.”
My nose wrinkles as I groan at the memory of that god-awful licorice taste.
Wait.
“Did I…” My mouth twists. “Did I get back out of bed last night to brush my teeth?”
When the Ghost Prince doesn’t answer, I glance at him over my shoulder.
“Did I?”
He chuckles. “You asked me to brush them for you.”
My mouth falls open. “I did not.”
“You apparently go full princess mode when you’re high, little villain.”
Horror pools in my stomach. “I asked you to brush my teeth?!”
“I compromised and brought you mouthwash and a cup to spit into.”
I groan and bury my face in the pillow.
“That was before you took it upon yourself to educate me on the many talents and eras of Billy Joel.”
I lift my head and glance over my shoulder. “I did what?”
“I made the mistake of making a comment about one person owning this many Billy Joel records, and you—”
“Oh no,” I groan again, scrunching my face up. “I can get…evangelical with Billy.”
It wouldn’t be the first time not-sober me has forced someone to sit in mandated silence and listen to the genius of “Piano Man”, “New York State of Mind”, or “Downeaster Alexa” while I preach the gospel of Joel.
Except usually those victims are my friends, not super hot masked men I may or may not be completely smitten with.
“Honestly,” he chuckles quietly, “I don’t how I made it this long without listening to ‘She’s Always A Woman’ fifteen times in a row before. It’s a breathtaking experience.”
I wince as I press my face back into the pillow.
Shoot me.
The Ghost Prince shifts behind me.
“I’ll get coffee—”
I’m grabbing his forearm tightly before I even realize I’m doing it.
“Will you stay?” I ask quietly. “Please?”
He tenses. But then his body sinks against mine.
“Of course,” he murmurs, his arms wrapping around me again.
Heat stains my cheeks.
“So, you really didn’t sleep? At all?”
I feel his head shake. “No.”
I twist to look at him. “Because you weren’t tired, or because you can’t sleep in the mask?”
His chest hitches like he’s chuckling.
“Oh my God, it’s because of the mask, isn’t it?” I groan. “I begged you to stay, and that meant you had to stay up all night sweating in a fucking rubber mask.”
“Technically, it’s carbon fiber, Kevlar weave, and epoxy resin,” he shrugs.
My mouth twists as I peer into the dark screens covering his eyes.
Are they really blue?
“You could…take it off?” I clear my throat. “I mean, if you want to.”
The room goes quiet as the pause between us stretches. I’m sure he has the same reservations I do, that when the mask comes off this becomes real, with all the potential problems that come with that.
“Galina—“
“Blindfold me.”
“What?” he growls.
“Blindfold me. Then you can take your mask off.”
He chuckles.
“I’m serious!” I grin. “There’s no way you’re not completely uncomfortable in that thing. Please. I insist.”
There’s another long moment of silence before he nods.
“There’s a sleep mask in the nightstand beside you,” I tell him.
I frown at the sudden absence of his arm around me as he reaches behind him for the drawer. Then he’s rolling back into me, pressing his chest against my skin.
…He’s still hard as his cock nudges against my ass, making my thighs clench.
He slips the silk mask over my face and adjusts it over my eyes, turning my world black.
“Were you the type to go hunting for presents before Christmas?” he asks.
I giggle. “No way! I love surprises.”
“Good. No peeking.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I grin.
His arm slips away from me again, and I hear him sliding his mask off. He exhales, and his breath teases against my nape as his arm circles me again.
“Better?”
“Much,” he says.
I feel myself smile.
“I like your voice,” I say quietly.
“I’m disguising it.”
“I know. I still like it.”
A big grin spreads over my face as I snuggle back into him. The muscles in his arms ripple as he pulls me tighter. His pecs flex against my back.
…His cock pulses against my ass as heat tingles over my skin.
“Getting comfy?” he rumbles quietly.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “All cozy.”
I feel him chuckle as I burrow into him, pressing my body to his. His heavy cock throbs, and I bite back a gasp when I feel it slip against the crease of my ass.
God, he’s so big. And so hard right now…
Need pulses inside me. My back arches subtly, and I shiver as I push my ass back into him. My hips roll a bit, and that slithering, aching sensation coils around my center as I feel his dick twitch and his arm tighten.