Her Trick His Treat (Cherry On Top Tales #5)

Chapter Three-Camryn

CHAPTER THREE-CAMRYN

A few minutes earlier.

Shit.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I pulled on the hem of the miniskirt, but it wasn’t like that was going to make the thing grow a few more inches.

I never wore clothes like this.

Tight.

Revealing.

Microscopic.

I was a short chubby chick and much more comfortable in pajama pants and a tank top than the getup I was currently sporting.

“It’s Halloween. This is a costume. I can do this,” I told myself.

My Uber driver looked in the rearview mirror expectantly. It was then I realized I’d been sitting there for about forty-five seconds after he’d pulled up to the bar where I was supposed to meet my cousin.

“Sorry,” I muttered, cheeks burning with embarrassment as I tried to slide across the vinyl seat to exit.

“No worries, miss, and for the record, you look good. Have fun in there,” the older man said and winked.

My blush burned even brighter as Harry, my driver, gave me a little wave. He’d spent the first five minutes of the drive talking about his grandkids and seemed harmless enough.

Shit.

Jan wouldn’t recognize me. I mean, I didn’t recognize myself. But maybe that was a good thing, right?

Maybe for tonight I could reinvent myself. I could pretend to be someone who oozed sexuality and confidence.

I could pretend to be a woman whose longest and most satisfying sexual relationship wasn’t with her vibrator.

Oh God. This wasn’t going to work.

The one time I’d actually tried to have sex was with my local barista and the guy had a problem with, er , coming early to the party.

Yep, premature ejaculation was real, and it was disappointing for all.

My stomach was in knots as I stood with my hand on the doorknob. Someone pulled it open, and I almost stumbled as a giant wearing a Pennywise costume steadied me.

“Easy there, hot stuff. Grrrr,” he growled and chuckled before stalking off and waving his plastic knife in the air.

Hot stuff? Me?

Music was blasting inside, nothing I recognized, but I didn’t care. I was still trying to come to terms with the fact some stranger called me hot stuff.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar and holy shit. He was right. I did look hot.

I mean, for me, I did.

No more virginal nerd girl.

Tonight I was whoever I wanted to be.

And I wanted to be a sex kitten.

Imagine my surprise when I donned that persona and found it fit me like a glove. I bit my lip. My right hand was on the bar as I surveyed the crowd.

A man walked up to me wearing a pair of wolf ears, the kind I saw teenagers wear at Renn Faires and what not. He was not the least bit attractive. But he’d noticed me, and that was a first.

I couldn’t hear him over the blasting music, but it didn’t matter. I had no interest in anything he had to say. My gaze was suddenly caught by a huge man wearing a terrifying skull mask over his face.

He was enormous. Easily six foot four, with shoulders so broad they seemed to stretch the fabric of his black shirt to its limits, looking like he’d have to walk sideways to fit through a standard doorframe.

Tattoos trailed down his arms, covering his hands in wicked cool designs, but I couldn’t make out the detail at this distance. I wondered how far they went. Was he inked up everywhere?

The thought made warmth spread through me and had me sucking in air like I’d just finished working out.

He looked like he was headed my way, and a wave of disbelief washed over me. Guys like that never noticed me.

I was the girl who blended into the wallpaper. The kind of person who stayed in the background.

A wallflower. Awkward and unused to the bright, vibrant world of social interaction.

But there was something about the way he moved that kept my eyes riveted to him. He had such confidence. It oozed from his pores.

He commanded attention, and I noticed more than one set of eyes watching him prowl forward like some primal beast.

Holy hotness.

My heart was racing. The man was so damn sexy.

Not that I could see his face. I mean, the mask obscured his features, casting a shadow over his expression, but there was an undeniable intensity behind the black hood and silver skull.

He had a sort of wild, potent aura that drew me in and made the air around us feel charged.

My mind raced, and I found myself imagining what his face might look like beneath the costume.

Did he have a square jawline? Chiseled cheekbones? Plump lips that could kindle fires in my soul with just a smile?

I knew instinctively that he was just as hot as his body suggested.

A sort of wild, potent aura, and I knew his face was as hot as his body suggested.

Awareness had me riveted to his black-eyed stare, and I wondered where his gaze was focused.

Was he looking at my face?

Did he see how nervous I was? Or how hard I was staring at him?

Electricity sizzled between us. I’d never felt anything like it before.

And still, I wondered if it was me he was looking at or was I grossly mistaken?

Building mountains out of molehills was a hobby of mine.

Was he looking at my too curvy body? Did he like what he saw?

Maybe he was checking out my too tight top?

Or maybe those soulless eyes had dropped lower?

Could he tell I didn’t have any panties on beneath my skirt, under my stockings?

I never felt like this before. My attraction to him was immediate and my response nonsensical.

The moment stretched out, seeming to last forever. Like an impossibly slow heartbeat among the cacophony of noise and movement within the bar.

The music was thumping, echoing my racing heartbeat.

The masked man seemed to loom closer, each step causing another rush of heat to rise within me.

My sex ached. Moisture pooled between my thighs as I watched him close the distance between us.

In that instant, the crowded room faded away, and it felt like we were the only two people in the universe.

Only we weren’t. The weird dude who’d approached me first was still there.

The masked man leaned down, his skull mouth level with the skinny stranger’s ear.

“Move.”

I felt that word like a lightning bolt right to my core. My unwanted visitor fled like the hounds of hell were on his heels and the masked man cocked his head to the side.

He looks like he’s made of shadow and light.

The air felt charged, whether with my own lust, or the combination of both of ours I was unsure. Though I knew what I was hoping for.

The energy shifted around us, crackling with unspoken possibilities.

I could feel his presence enveloping me, a fierce heat that made me both anxious and exhilarated.

I stood rooted in place, waiting, hoping for whatever might happen next.

I was an avid reader, and though I’d never been a dark romance girlie, I sure understood the appeal as this masked stranger stood in front of me. He was mysterious, seductive.

The living, breathing personification of a dark hero from the depths of a story I hadn’t yet begun to write.

Shadow Man.

That’s how I’d think of him from now on. He was both intimidating and fascinating, a mystery I couldn’t resist.

My lips parted.

“You, uh, scared him away,” I said.

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because. That creep had no business talking to you, Vixen,” he growled the words.

“Vixen?”

He nodded again.

I’d been going for sex kitten, but a vixen was good.

Vixen. Female fox. Fox meant sexy, right?

My brain never turned off. But right then, staring at the way his broad chest tapered to rock hard abs outlined in the form fitting t-shirt he wore, mine was damn close to short circuiting.

“Okay. So what does that mean?”

“It means he was in my spot. I’m here now, though. Want a drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

“What’s your poison?”

“Um, surprise me,” I said.

Truth was, I never drank. Not because I was some teetotaler, I just hardly had occasion to imbibe.

But I was at a bar. So, he’d made a natural assumption.

I watched as he motioned to the bartender and leaned over to order.

“Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

“Nope. Well, that’s not true, I am meeting my cousin,” I confessed.

I realized I probably shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late now, so I shrugged it off. A few minutes later, two blood red shots were placed in front of us.

He reached for the bottom of his mask.

“Don’t,” I blurted, and his head turned to mine.

I couldn’t explain why, but I really wanted him to keep that spooky black hood with the silver skeleton face on.

It made flirting with him easier somehow. And that was what I was doing, right?

Yes , I admitted to myself.

I was trying to flirt. To be sexy. This costume was a chance for me to be more than I was, and I wanted that. I wanted it badly.

“Don’t what, Vixen?”

“Don’t take it off.”