As he moved on, Giselle let out a long, slow exhale of relief, hoping her disinterest in three different men would translate clearly to the other patrons.
Movement near the door drew her gaze, and she glanced that direction as the devilishly hot stranger from the lobby strolled in. His mask was also blue, but his girls were visitors, if Giselle remembered the color-coding correctly. While his face was covered with either mask or heavy scruff, she could still get a feel for his strong, handsome features. And there was just no hiding that body. He wore black slacks and a white button-down, both fitted to all his lean muscle. He had each strong arm curved around a beautiful, built brunette, but his gaze was directly, purposefully, on Giselle as he entered.
Her heart took an extra hard beat. Her breath hitched. And Giselle looked away again. But now she found herself caught between the live, erotic, passionate sex onstage and the stranger who made her think of Troy.
Troy.
Her heart constricted with a bittersweet squeeze. She let her eyes glaze over the empty wineglass in her hand as the pain vibrated through her body like a plucked chord, then slowly stilled, leaving a familiar ache. She'd met men who'd reminded her of Troy over the years-a smile, a voice, a laugh-but none quite as much as this man, yet she hadn't even met him.
And she really didn't want to think about Troy tonight. Not here.
Music thumped in her ears, something techno and sexual. The sounds drifting from the stage grew in frequency and intensity. Giselle glanced around for a shadow server. She met the woman's eyes and instantly knew her silent request would be filled.
The level of nonverbal communication here awed her, and curiosity pulled her gaze back to the devil and his demons. He'd taken up residence on a small love seat on the opposite side of the seating area, but instead of watching the rising passion on stage or engaging in foreplay with his two beauties, his heavy-lidded dark eyes watched her.
Giselle held his stare for an extended moment with a strange mix of fear and attraction melding into angst. The thought that he recognized her made alarm burn across her neck. She didn't care what the guide had told her about their strict confidentiality rules, didn't care how Chad had assured her that Rendezvous was secure. She still grew nervous she'd be identified and outed. And had to deliberately remind herself all publicity at this stage of her career was good publicity.
She forced the tension from her shoulders and broke the devil's gaze as a shadow server set Giselle's second glass of wine on the table. She nodded a thank-you and drank deep as dual moans exploded on stage. When she looked up, she found the man banging his partner in a frenzy of hard, quick thrusts.
Like watching a train wreck, Giselle couldn't look away. The open, expressive carnality infused her with an intense craving. The raw, rough sexual acts made something elemental claw at her gut.
God. It had been so damn long since Giselle had been handled like that, she'd forgotten what it felt like. But the sights and sounds brought back memories. Only, the memories were attached to Troy. He'd known how to fuck like the worst of the bad boys, how to make love so sweetly it brought tears to her eyes, and every combination in between.
Giselle took another deep drink and glanced toward the devil, searching for the qualities that reminded her of her first love. Their gazes clicked with an explosive connection, a match to propane. Heat rattled her core and spread outward.
She knew she needed to look away. But something about his gaze challenged her to watch as the women rubbed all over him. One kissed his neck and combed her hand through his long, dark waves. The other knelt between his spread thighs, unbuttoning his shirt, and following the open path with her mouth.
And they did it all while he watched Giselle.
Why did she find that so…electrifying?
She finished her second glass of wine and spoke to the shadow server when she returned with a third. “Can I get something else, please?”
“Of course.” She crouched to Giselle's level and smiled, instantly turning from an elusive slave-like figure to a real woman. The sight helped Giselle relax. “What would you like?”
“A snakebite?” She was ridiculously off the wagon, but if there was ever a time she needed a little Dutch courage, tonight was the night. “Guinness and cider?”
“Absolutely,” she said softly. “One of my favorites.”
“Thank you.”
The woman moved gracefully around the guests and out of the salon. And when Giselle's gaze paused in the devil's vicinity, she found him pushing from his seat, his long muscled body stretching to its glorious full height-his gaze purposefully on hers.
Her stomach grew wings and fluttered, making her a little nauseated. What would she say if he approached her? What if he recognized her?
But her distress was wasted. He simply wrapped his arms around the women he was with and led them toward the lobby…and the various themed sex rooms beyond.
A mixture of disappointment and relief expanded in her gut. This was really for the best because Giselle wasn't just out of her league here, she was out of her sport. Normally, she was ultraconfident. Her childhood hopscotching through foster homes had forced her to speak up for herself. Her adulthood living her life in front of fans and cameras had honed her independence into a buoyant persona that had served her well in her career.
But after Troy, sex became one of those neglected areas of her life. The one she never had time for. The one that nobody tempted her to explore. And one that carried a certain amount of risk as her success grew. Now, sitting at the center of a hedonistic jungle, that self-assured woman dissipated into someone who was more nervous than in control.
So she did what she always did when she found herself in an uncomfortable position-she pretended, something every neglected child excelled at.
She returned her attention to the stage where the male performer flipped the woman onto her belly, guided his cock between her legs, and pounded her from behind. Giselle watched the full length of his impressive cock slam into the woman over and over, each thrust eliciting dual cries of ecstasy.
Her belly squeezed into a ball of desire. But this was a dark desire. A needier, greedier desire she rarely experienced. One that turned her on in a very unique way. And, dammit, she wasn't here to get turned on. She was here to learn how to perform so that others got turned on when they watched her.
She forced her gaze to the audience, searching for reactions, for…something…that would give her help figuring out how to turn people on from the stage. Which was ironic considering how much of her life she currently spent on stage entertaining thousands. But she only found clusters of people mauling each other. The open display of foreplay en masse short-circuited her sexual connections. Her body experienced overload-overload with no outlet.