...“I’d offer to buy you a drink,” someone of decidedly masculine persuasion said next to Sam, “but I haven’t yet figured out the mystery of how Venetians eat or drink in masks like yours.”

The deep voice with the American Southern drawl came from Sam’s left, and the tone of it sent a shocking jolt of heat up his spine. He turned to see who’d joined him, and almost forgot to breathe.

A man dressed entirely in black and red stood next to him. They were roughly the same height—Sam was five-nine and a half in his bare feet—but the man seemed larger than life simply because he exuded heat and sex appeal from the tips of his knee-high black boots, to his form-fitting black velvet pants, to the long red and black coat that clung to his solid chest and shoulders, all the way to the black feather plume on his hat. He wore only a half mask in red and black that covered the upper portion of his face but left visible his sensual lips and a light brown soul patch and five o’clock shadow on his strong chin.

A pair of sapphire blue eyes, shining with a mix of mischief and volcanic intensity, focused on Sam, as if the man had thoroughly enjoyed Sam’s slow once-over.

A grin teased at Sam’s mouth, though he knew his companion wouldn’t be able to see it. “Maybe it’s the Venetians way of living a virtuous life, free of the sins of gluttony and the bottle,” he said, his voice sounding slightly muffled because of the mask.

“You’re American,” the man said, sounding surprised.

“As are you,” Sam responded drily, acknowledging the obvious.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sound so shocked. I’m relieved, actually, since my Italian is almost non-existent and I was hoping not to have to embarrass myself by revealing that fact.” He smiled and that sight alone was worth every torturous minute Sam had stood here alone before this—like he’d been waiting for this smile, this man—all night.

“As for your theory,” the man continued, “what a sad way to live. Think about it…no chocolate, no steak, no single malt whiskey, not to mention the other delicious uses I can think of for the mouth.”

Another zing of lust shot through Sam as the man’s deep voice seemed to linger on the last bit of his speech and his gaze grew even hotter. A sudden vision of those luscious lips wrapped around Sam’s cock filled his head.

“Sounds as if you take your oral pleasures seriously,” Sam said.

“Of course I do. Be honest…it’s hard to come up with anything that gives as much pleasure as something sinful, don’t you think?”

“You know what I think?” Sam countered. “I think you’re hitting on me.”

His eyes twinkled and he leaned closer to Sam until their shoulders brushed. “Is it working?”

The contact was electric, even through the yards of fabric in their costumes. “Buy me a drink and we’ll see.”

“Which brings us back to the dilemma of your mask.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to figure out a way to get me out of it first.”