I nod, and he stands to scoop me off the barstool so my legs wrap around his lean, muscular waist. He’s as solid as a tree trunk and holds me up like I don’t weigh anything. I feel my dress riding up my back a little, and James smirks as he carries me away from the bar.

“We’ll give them one last show,” he murmurs.

His words blaze through me from my head to my toes, and I grind against his stomach, kissing him hard as we reach the open door of one of the many rooms branching off from the main one.

He carries me inside where two candelabras on either side of the room cast it in soft, flickering light. A bed made with silky looking sheets and dark pillows waits for us, but rather than bringing me over there, he kicks the door closed and presses me against it, ratcheting up the intensity of the kiss now that we’re alone. I tip my head back as he drags his lips away from mine, trailing his mouth along my jaw and neck with a hunger that makes my clit throb.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans. “I knew you would. Need to taste more of you.”

He pulls me away from the wall suddenly, and I wrap my arms around his neck to steady myself as he strides quickly across the room and deposits me on the bed. I bounce a little on the soft mattress, and he stands over me, gazing down at me appreciatively.

His eyes travel over me slowly, burning behind his mask as he slowly loosens his tie.

“Can I take off your mask?” he asks, his voice low.

“Yes, but only if I can see you too.”

He nods and tugs his mask off his face first, and he’s even better looking than I thought. He’s got a sharp jawline, strong cheekbones, and thick lashes that frame his gorgeous eyes. He reaches for my face to push my mask off, and when he gets a look at my face, he chuckles in disbelief as he cradles my head in both hands and stares into my eyes.

“Mon Dieu, tu es incroyablement belle. Tu vas me gâcher pour toutes les autres femmes, n’est-ce pas?” he whispers, and although I recognize it as French, I don’t understand a word he’s saying. But it sounds so beautiful that it sends a shiver rippling through me anyway.

“You speak French?” I ask, and he nods with a smile.

“I grew up in Québec,” he says as he lowers himself to his knees between my legs.