by Eden Summers
No. He’d mentioned he was falling for her. Not love. There were miles between those two steps. A universe of space marking the seriousness of each level of affection.
“I-I…” She backtracked. “I need a minute.” She clung to the cell in her hand and fled from the room, increasing her pace down the hall and descending the wide stairs two at a time.
Her cell vibrated as she reached the lower level.
Keenan: I think I’m in love with you.
“Christ.” She kept walking, through a television room with wide, cushioned recliners, into the modern, spotless kitchen, then down another desolate hall that wasn’t unfamiliar. She never would’ve guessed Keenan was capable of professing love, let alone feeling it. Especially for her.
He was too cold. Too protected by his silence.
Her cell beeped again.
Keenan: Hiding?
Hell, yes. That’s exactly what she was doing. She approached the archway leading to the bathroom she’d been introduced to the night of the bonfire and didn’t deny the energized goosebumps from covering every inch of her flesh.
Ahead was the entrance to the toilet, but her interest rested on the door opposite the mirror. She lunged for the handle, escaped into a new hiding place, and closed herself inside. The sight of the deep bath and spotless shower made her moan. The desire to wash away the dirt and grime and fear becoming a living, breathing thing.
She placed her cell on the rim of the bath, unzipped the back of her dress, and shimmied until the material pooled at her feet. She couldn’t think past the need to be clean, to be able to start fresh. Her lingerie was next, her bra and panties adding to the pile of stale clothes before she leaned into the shower and turned on the taps.
She paced, back and forth, back and forth until steam billowed at her feet. On the tips of her toes, she stepped into the open-ended shower and groaned as the water enveloped her entire body.
This was meant to be an easy task—go to Seattle, calm staff frustrations, establish a professional relationship with Grandiosity. Only she’d fumbled at every turn. She alienated Penny, again. She became entangled with a man who should’ve been off limits, again. And the repeated failures didn’t stop her from wanting him. The desire was still there, clawing at her chest, squeezing at her lungs.
When had stupidity become her A-game?
She grabbed at the soap in the holder and scrubbed away the lasciviousness. Every inch of skin was scoured, cleansed, and yet the dirt remained, hiding in her pores, clinging to her hair. She couldn’t get it off.
She didn’t want to get it off.
The sensations that enveloped her when she was with Keenan were addictive. He touched places and inspired emotions she hadn’t found enticing before. He rewired her morals and rewrote her goals.
He changed her.
But what was more important, a man or her job? Who meant more to her, her cousins or the guy who made her body sing?
A foreign click brushed her ears, followed by the slow sweep of the door. She sighed as the water sprayed her face and Keenan’s presence reignited goosebumps.
“I should’ve turned the lock,” she murmured and opened her eyes to the answer she had to quit denying. What she needed was sitting on the edge of the bath now dressed in cargo pants and a long-sleeve shirt, staring at her with unease.
She washed the soap from her body, wiping her hands over her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. He followed the progression and gripped the rim of the bath in clawed fingers. His admiration made every nerve stand to attention and beg for more. She could deny the world existed when she was trapped under that heated scrutiny.
He grabbed at the hem of his shirt and lifted, tugging it above his smooth stomach, his muscled pecs, and over his head. Then those talented fingers lowered to the buckle of his belt.
Oh, heavenly temptation. She salivated for a glimpse of what was tenting his pants. Her mouth insisted on a taste of what was beneath that zipper.
“No.” She shut off the water and surveyed the four walls in search of a towel.
He raised his chin to her rejection, stood, and strode from the bathroom, leaving the sound of slammed cupboards in his wake. When he walked back into view, he held a towel outstretched in his arms, the fluffy white material coming with the unspoken message that he needed to be the one to drape it over her shoulders.
“Thank you.” She turned and backed into him, letting him cover her. The closer she came, the stronger his scent grew. He’d put on aftershave—intoxicating, dreamy aftershave.
“Can you do me a favor?” She pivoted back in his direction and lazily ruffled her hair with the corner of the towel, letting him look his fill.
He met her eyes and raised a brow. A superior, playboy brow.
She shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be thinking what was running through her head, yet the thoughts wouldn’t fade. “Are you able to finish what you started?”
“What?” He frowned.
She wrapped the damp material around her, securing it above her breasts, and walked from the room. She led him into the adjoining area and assumed a position from the past—her hands against the counter, her gaze focused on his reflection in the mirror. “Finish what you started the night of the bonfire.”
He grinned, slow, lethargic, and so fucking sexy her pussy clenched with his approach. His body nestled behind her, his chest to her back, his crotch to her ass. His lips lowered, his mouth finding the decadent place where her shoulder met neck, striking the match of lust-filled insanity.
She moaned, unable to strengthen herself against the one kiss that raised every hair on her body. He awakened her with skill that defied logic. He was a prize, not a misgiving. A treat, not a punishment.
Sparks ignited at her thighs, his fingers creeping under the towel, inching higher. She rubbed against his erection, the rhythmic circle of her hips tormenting her clit and making it throb. “I’m falling for you, too.” She craned her neck, giving him better access for his talented mouth. “I adore you.”
His gaze cut to hers, his kiss-darkened lips glistening. His desire was tangible, and so was his affection—his unspoken promise.
“But I need to keep this a secret. I need you to tell Penny that we didn’t work out. That I left with no plans to return.”
His chin raised, his jaw clenched.
“Promise me.”
He gave a gruff nod, his fingers digging into the bottom of the towel.
“Good.” She grinned at him. “Now finish this.”
A growl vibrated into her back as he smoothed his hands over the material at her thighs, her waist, up to her chest. With provoking restraint, he released the hold of the towel and let it fall to the floor in a flourish.
He appraised her, placing a high value on her body if the intensity of his gaze was anything to go by. There was a clink of his belt, a grate of a zipper, then the warmth of skin to skin at her thighs, his erection nestling into her ass.
She wiggled, adoring the friction, and received a hiss of appreciation in return.
He gripped the wet strands of her hair, pulling them into a makeshift pony to release droplets of water down her back. The invigorating wave washed along her spine, to the crack of her ass, and then the heat of her pussy. She gasped at the barely there brush of sensation, the fluid mingling with her own and cascading down her thighs.
“Do it again.” She wanted more. Needed more.
He wove her hair around his fist, pulling to the point of pain, causing a rush of chilled water down her back. Oh, God. It was akin to being teased with a feather, the slightest movement igniting an explosion of tingles.
She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and became malleable as he leaned into her, bending her over. The brush of his palm wove around her hip, to her abdomen, then lower, to her clit. She jerked with the first touch, the initial rush of perfection. Her core fluttered, his fingers and the head of his cock sliding through her slickness at the same time.
“Keenan…”<
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He leaned to the left, reached for a drawer below the counter, rifled through the contents. She jolted when he slammed it shut with a huff and then leaned to the right to do the same. This time he came up with a shiny silver packet, his shoulders loosening in relief.
“Crisis averted?” she drawled.
He gave her a playful glare. “Yes.”
She grinned as he tore open a packet and sheathed himself, his muscled arms tensing with the chore. Then he was positioning himself between her thighs, the smooth latex parting her folds and gliding through her wet flesh. She bit her lip, waiting, and inhaled tiny little gasps. The buildup was enough to inspire an orgasm, the inner walls of her sex already pulsing, silently begging.
She bucked, instigating the first plunge of his cock into her sex. It was a culmination—their seduction coming full circle to finally start afresh. And God, it felt like heaven and hell. Right and wrong. Skirting responsibilities had never felt so good. The virginal buzz of professional defiance made him all the more alluring.
His focus met hers in the mirror while his fingers worked lazily back and forth on her clit. There was no rush for him, no starvation. He held her captive in his arms, in his gaze, and then slammed home, his cock driving a moan from her throat.
She wanted to deny the power he had over her, wanted to suppress it and hide it away for nobody else to see. Yet there it was, a vivid picture in the mirror, the truth her only vision.
“Make me come.”
He grabbed her hair again, sending more water cascading down her back to the place where they joined. He pulled tight, controlling her, not only with his grip, but the overwhelming focus in those eyes. His stare touched her with the same ferocity as his hands. She could feel it sweeping over her neck, her breasts and lower, delving to the place where his fingers stroked her clit.
He moved inside her with mastery and control. Every plunge long and slow and deep, every withdrawal gradual and teasing and flawless. She moaned for more, sinking into his adoration and lapping it up with each gyration of her hips.
He didn’t loosen his grip on her hair, he kept her like a slave. But the invisible bonds of attraction were tighter. They squeezed her lungs and tensed her womb. Everything about him was undeniable—the rough scratch of his stubble, the control in his arms, the passion in his lips.
The press on her clit became harder, and she moaned at the unconscious buck of her hips. The only sign of his waning restraint was the almost imperceptible flare of his nostrils. The tiniest flicker of irregular breathing that made her moan again, over and over, inspiring his thrusts to a faster rhythm.
She bit her lip to fight the need to kiss him, and gripped the wrist between her legs. All she needed was a little more. A tiny bit faster, the slightest bit harder. She clutched tight, silently begging with the clench of her hand, her molars, and her pussy.
“You make me wild.”
He drove his teeth into her neck, announcing he felt the same. Obliterating her with a connection that was entirely wrong, yet undeniably right.
Her core fluttered, once, twice. The orgasm was there, within her grasp, and she closed her eyes to let pleasure take hold. But Keenan didn’t allow it. His withdrawal from her body was severe, along with the aching release of her hair. He gripped her chin instead, demanding she watch before he nudged his cock back against her entrance and sank home in a harsh thrust.
He drove into her over and over, his features tightening, his restraint buckling. There was no way she could hold out. He was too thick inside her, the delicious fullness and the press against her clit absolute perfection.
She kept her eyes open this time and cried out with the first chaotic pulse of her pussy. Her nails dug into his wrist, her other hand reached for his hair, pulling his mouth to her neck. His suction and teeth ensured he’d retreat after leaving a mark.
His deep growl inched under her skin, his rhythm lost to mindless bucking as he entwined their euphoria. It didn’t stop. Her core continued to succumb to his orgasm, clutching tighter and tighter until finally satiation and exhaustion slowed their movements.
Bliss faded, but Keenan didn’t. There was no retreat. He held her, his hand leaving her pussy to weave around her waist, the other resting gently at the base of her neck. His lips fell to her shoulder, again and again. The peppering of butterfly kisses almost brought her to her knees.
This wasn’t mere carnality. It never had been. Since they first met, something more had bubbled beneath the surface, demanding to be heard through the silence.
She’d been attracted to Keenan at first sight. She’d been intrigued by him before leaving her aunt’s house the night she arrived in Seattle. Her lust had hit a benchmark at the bonfire, but through each day spent together, the most influential sensation was the aching beat in her chest. Her heart was driving this. Her affection was the dictator.
“I came so close to going home.” She met his focus in the mirror. “I planned to leave the day I walked into your father’s office.”
“I know.”
She hoped so, because one wrong move by either of them could put her back in the same position. “Just remember your promise.” She reached over her shoulder and ran a hand through his hair. “If Penny causes trouble again…”
He shook his head, his focus turning determined, demanding she quit her train of thought.
He didn’t understand. He had no clue what it was like to ponder a future with him. To paint the happiness in vivid clarity within a woman’s imagination. She was sure Penny would’ve felt the same. There was little doubt her cousin still did.
“If I were her—” She’d what? Spencer had never inspired feelings that wrought havoc on her system. She’d never been in a relationship where her next breath seemed dependent on someone else, like they were pulling it from her lungs.
Keenan raised a brow, asking the same question.
“I’d fight for you,” she admitted. And there wasn’t the slightest stretch of truth in her admission.
Email
Date: 27th December
Subject: Why didn’t you fight?
* * *
Savannah,
You said you’d fight. Do you remember?
On Thanksgiving, you said if I were yours, you’d fight. I remember because I held tight to those words, hoping they might save us in the end.
But you didn’t fight. You gave up. You walked away, fled Seattle, and proceeded to ignore every email and text I sent your way. You didn’t even let me explain.
When will you make good on your promise?
Keenan
Chapter Twenty-Six
One night in his bed turned into two. At first, she’d packed a change of clothes and her toothbrush. Then it was her overnight bag. And more recently, her entire suitcase. They’d morphed from lovers, into a couple, reaching relationship goals she’d never aspired to achieve.
The only nights they spent apart were the ones she refused to share in his presence. Every Monday and Thursday when he held after-hours meetings with Penny. At his house. Alone. It was a routine he assured her they’d been doing for years to combat his restricted communication in the office, and no matter how much she loathed their connection, she had to trust him.
If he wanted Penny, he could have her with the lowering of a pants zipper. Yet he spent every free moment by Savannah’s side. For weeks, they isolated themselves in his mansion. He taught her the basics of sign language, she introduced him to a text-to-voice app that allowed them to communicate when she wasn’t in a position to read his lips or his cell screen. She learned the intricacies of Keenan Black—the ones he allowed her to see—and it seemed she hadn’t scratched the surface of the stories he held inside.
He never mentioned his family. He wouldn’t explain why he hadn’t seen them at Thanksgiving or if he had plans to share Christmas with them. Father and son had a working relationship. Period. She assumed it had something to do with his silence, but she couldn’t gain clarity because he refus
ed to acknowledge the topic. His lack of speech was off limits. And she didn’t have the callousness to push him. Not fully. She always asked questions, and every so often he’d suck in a breath and part those gorgeous lips in what she thought would be a moment of trust. Then he’d shut himself off, escaping in a look of sorrow that made her vow not to ask again.
Once the seclusion of home life became too much, they ventured out. She drove to Snoqualmie Falls while he successfully seduced her with the sterile, robotic sound of text-to-voice. Another day was spent at Point Defiance Zoo, and he’d recently surprised her with a scenic flight over Seattle.
This morning marked the final hours of their first weekend escape. He’d rented an immaculate cabin in Leavenworth. A one bedroom, one bathroom paradise with the prettiest view she’d ever seen through the wide open windows looking out over the snow and the Wenatchee River.
“I guess you didn’t want to join me?” She poked her head outside the bathroom door and finished drying herself with a towel. He was a slave to work, but every time she showered, he wound up naked beside her. Whenever she began preparing meals, he discarded all his communication devices and pitched in. And whenever she was in a wicked mood, unable to tear her suggestive stare away from him, he’d pour her a glass of wine and taunt her with his smirk until they became a mass of tangled arms and legs and lips.
He was carnal, successful, and cavalier.
He was perfect.
Only this time he didn’t respond.
She yanked on her pants and blouse, then inched her head out of the bathroom. Her pulse spiked for a moment, waiting for him to jump out at her, to shove her against the closest wall and steal her breath with his kiss. But he didn’t. There was no sound of footfalls, no television, only the crackle of the fire from the main room.
“Keenan?” She padded through the bedroom to find him motionless on the couch.
He was sitting upright, his head resting against the back of the sofa like he’d sat down and instantly became overwhelmed with exhaustion.