by Eden Summers
She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her mouth, tasting the coppery tang of blood. He gripped the back of her heel and yanked, dislodging her boot, then pulled it off completely. Her sock covered toes were guided to the tile before his hands fell upon her other leg, going through the same motions.
As he stood, he closed the door behind them, securing her fate. He wove a hand around her waist and kept the other on her hip, cocooning her in arousal. There was nowhere to go but where he desired. Nowhere to run if it meant she wouldn’t be in his arms. She slid forward, measuring her steps, ensuring she didn’t make a sound.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” she whispered so low she wasn’t sure he could hear.
There were doors to her left, an archway to her right, every avenue leading into more darkness. Her surroundings slowly crept into her consciousness—the warmth of indoor heating, the high ceilings, the smooth tiles, and the total silence apart from their breathing.
Keenan tightened his grip around her waist, forcing a gasp from her throat as he directed her into a small alcove. Moonlight seeped in from an adjoining room. A bathroom. She looked around the space surrounding her, noticing a basin to her left, a hand towel on an elegant metal hook, and another door up ahead.
He gestured forward, toward the closed door. It felt like a trap, like wherever he was leading was a dead end. She twisted in his arms, facing him, trying to read his eyes. Her heart began to pound, throb, pulse in her ears with incessant force.
“Keenan…” She was an idiot. An overstimulated and sex starved idiot. “Please don’t tell me you broke into a house just so I could use the bathroom.”
His slowly building grin said it all. He was insane. Intriguing, arousing, and clearly mentally unstable. He stretched around her, the squeak of a turning doorknob making the lust dilute from her system.
She’d had this all wrong. She’d mistaken his psychotic interest as a prelude to sex.
Evidently, there would be no bumping of private parts…only a bathroom break. Idiot.
Her shoulders slumped as he straightened, the tiny glimmer of his grin still in place.
“I’ll use the bathroom,” she grumbled. “But I still don’t appreciate that my first criminal act will involve urinating in an unauthorized area.”
His silent laughter taunted her. She turned, her chest heavy with disappointment, and walked toward the small room. One step, two step, three step, fo— His arm slid around her waist and he swung her around to face him. He was upon her in a heartbeat, thigh to thigh, waist to waist.
He loomed over her, his eyes dark and menacing, his features tight.
Fear collided with the needy plea from every erogenous zone in her body. She wanted him more than she wanted a clean police record. More than her next breath. More than her sanity. Yet she knew nothing about him, and what she did know involved trespassing and what seemed to be a complicated relationship with Penny.
“You’re a confusing man,” she murmured.
There was a flash of a smile, a glimmer of a dimple, then his mouth was upon hers, stealing the oxygen from her lungs and replacing it with scorching flames. He was a puppeteer, pulling her strings with precision, his lips working hers in confident and entirely unapologetic strokes.
She whimpered, begging for more as she placed her hands on his shoulders and clung tight. Why had she ever wanted words from him? His kiss said it all. It answered all her questions and confirmed the mutual attraction.
Then just as quickly as pleasure engulfed her, he stepped back, breaking the connection with brutal force. They panted into the silence, their chests heaving, her palms sweating.
“Keenan—”
He placed a finger to his lips and quirked his head, listening as he focused over his shoulder.
“Is someone coming?”
He shook his head and met her gaze. Lying. There was something deceptive in his eyes, something completely devoid of the passion from moments before. He jerked his chin toward the door behind her and shooed her with his hand.
She couldn’t hear a thing, only harsh exhalations and the pounding rhythm of her pulse. Her nausea returned, coalescing with her panic over being caught.
“Okay.” She shouldn’t trust him. Not his actions, his seduction, or his confidence. She really shouldn’t. Yet she did.
She was a fool for being here. For turning her back, padding into the tiny room and closing the door between them. She’d known he was trouble the moment they met. Without a word, or a smile, the defiance in his eyes had yelled at her to walk away. But, God help her, she was more of a fool for succumbing to the falling sensation taking over her body.
She had to have him. At least a little more than a taste.
Chapter Seven
Savannah inched from the bathroom, unable to see or hear Keenan. As she’d used the facilities, the soft pad of his footsteps had disappeared down the hall. If he left her alone in this huge monstrosity of a house, she would track him down and slay him. No matter how enjoyably her lips still tingled from his kiss.
She tiptoed to the basin, gently squeezed the tap, and let the cold trickle of water wash her hands. An excited prickle of awareness buzzed at the base of her neck. His presence hummed against her skin, making her aware of him before she raised her chin and caught sight of him staring back at her from the mirror. His large frame loomed in the archway, one shoulder lazily resting against the wall.
“We should leave.” The tremor in her voice spoke of fear. Only she wasn’t scared of any physical injury from him. No. She feared for the pain he could emotionally inflict. Her thoughts were already incoherent around him, yet his eyes spoke of cold detachment. She was sure the weight of a million female heartbreaks rested on his shoulders, along with the scorn of a thousand ex-lovers. Another Spencer in disguise, but Keenan seemed far more accomplished.
He pushed to his full height and stalked toward her. One step. Two. He came up behind her, his gaze scrutinizing her in the mirror. She knew what he wanted. Even through the sterile disconnect, she could still sense his desire, could even see it in his unwavering focus.
His hip brushed hers and she sucked in a breath. Stiffened. He turned into her, his chest to her back, his pelvis to her ass, and enticed labored inhalations from her lungs. The rush of static in her ears was deafening and she was sure he could hear the coarse scratch of her throat as she swallowed.
There was no doubt where this would lead. No misconception. She craved whatever he had to give. The only thing nudging her conscience was the where, when, and why. She couldn’t be caught trespassing, especially not when Penny was lurking outside. Her time in Seattle was meant for work. More bad publicity for the Rydel name would ensure a horrific occupancy rate and an end to her secure employment.
“I need to leave.” She needed to run.
He wove an arm around her waist, bringing a silencing finger to her lips and a rush of adrenaline to her veins. With his free hand, he smoothed her hair back from her neck and placed his mouth below her ear. Her skin prickled beneath his lips, a thousand tiny sparks from heaven where their skin touched.
Her hips began to sway of their own accord, the gentle rock, rock, rock causing her ass to brush against something hard and unforgiving behind her.
His arousal.
His cock.
Her cheeks heated. She was far from chaste, yet she hadn’t imagined a man like him would be as turned on as she was. Not when his movements were smooth and calculated. From his reflection in the mirror, his attention seemed almost lazy, absentminded in a completely attentive way.
Christ. She was going insane.
“Keenan…”
He trailed his lips lower, along her neck where it joined her shoulder. He devastated her nerves and made her shake. Every breath she took was filled with his spicy scent. She drew him deep into her lungs, holding it within her, savoring him. Any man in her future would have to smell this good to gain even a sliver of her respect, because every man preceding him alrea
dy paled in comparison.
She didn’t take her attention off their reflection in the mirror. It was like watching a movie. An out of body experience. Too captivating to be real.
She wanted more from him. Something that wasn’t slow or deliberate. Something entirely unrestrained. She wanted to glimpse a replica of the delirious passion which pounded through every inch of her.
As his lips continued to devastate her, she sank her teeth into her lower lip, fighting delirium. She moved her hips in a rhythm now, harder than before, and ass rubbed with unapologetic strokes against his cock.
She thought she could hear him growl. That a deep, intoxicating vibration was seeping from his chest. She closed her eyes and sank into the fantasy, wondering what he would say if he could speak. How he would sound. How his words would make her feel.
He ground into her, their movements becoming a simulation of sex. The finger against her mouth delved deeper, parting her lips in an erotic gesture that had her opening her eyes to gain a visual.
He stared at her, their gazes mingling in a silent appreciation that tore a whimper from the back of her throat. He flashed a smile at her, pure seduction, and scraped his teeth from her shoulder to the sensitive skin below her ear.
She ached to hear something dirty whisper from his lips. I’m dying to fuck you. To taste you. But nothing came. Only harsh inhalations and the continued thrum of her pulse in her ears. She sucked his finger into her mouth, just the tip, and this time she was certain his growl wasn’t a hallucination. It was deep and dark and devilishly sexy.
He kept his finger in place, while his free hand lowered to her waistband, tugging at her belt. The clink-clink of her buckle startled her, flushing some of the adrenaline from her system. Were they really going to have sex in the bathroom? In the dark? In a complete stranger’s house?
“We should go somewhere else.” Back to her hotel. Any hotel. Christ, the dampness in her panties announced she’d take him in the back seat of her rental if given the chance. She just didn’t want to be here.
Short wisps of hair shimmied over his forehead with the authoritative shake of his head. The denial shouldn’t have turned her on. Nope. Yet it did.
Everything he did was purely erotic. His undeniable control. His strength in the face of demanding arousal. She craved his discipline and wanted him to crack at the same time. Push, pull. Breathe, suffocate. Mindful, careless. She couldn’t keep up with her own mixed messages.
She turned in his arms and placed a firm hand on his chest. “Keenan, we need to leave.”
A smirk tilted his lips and he leaned in, brushing his mouth over hers. She couldn’t deny his kiss. The sweep of his tongue was lethargic, as if he were savoring the taste of her, memorizing every second of her surrender.
His body pressed into her, pushing her ass against the counter and his cock to her pubic bone. It wouldn’t take much. The lowering of a zipper, the yank of her jeans. Five seconds and he could be inside her, burying himself deep, taking away the ache and replacing it with euphoria.
Damn it.
She reluctantly tore her lips away and pushed harder against his chest. “It isn’t right to stay here.” Her voice was filled with indecision. Her mind, too. “I really should go.”
He kissed the curve of her mouth, her cheek, the side of her jaw. She whimpered, defenseless against his A-grade seduction. He pushed the jacket off her shoulders and dragged it down to rest on the counter behind her, her hands still bound in the material of the sleeves.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t flee. At least that’s what she told herself. He stole her strength and made her feeble. Weak and needy. This time when his mouth brushed hers, he was savage. He consumed her, his tongue dancing with hers, his lips stealing her breath.
The tension on her wrist loosened and she trembled at the grate of her descending zipper. Coarse fingers slid into her panties, over the slim patch of trimmed curls, and lower, across the smooth skin directly above her pussy.
She felt like the goddess of lightning. As if a gazillion volts of electricity were flowing through her veins, all of them on a collision course with one throbbing, aching part of her body. The need to stop him filtered in and out of her consciousness, but the necessity for an orgasm far outweighed any contemplation that they were breaking the law.
She was sure the owners of the narcissistic mansion would understand. The police would understand, too. Anyone with a set of eyes and a fully functioning libido would realize that passing up this opportunity with such an undeniable man would compare to spitting in the face of a winning race horse.
She leaned back, starved of oxygen, and released a faint cry as he guided his touch through her slick flesh. He held her gaze, those guarded eyes seeing into her soul as he inched deeper, breaching her sex.
Her name flittered through the air and she frowned, wondering if her ears were deceiving her. Keenan’s lips hadn’t moved. He hadn’t flinched at all.
“Did you…”
She lost track of her thoughts as he pulsed his fingers inside her, his thumb deftly stroking her clit. Her panties were soaked, uncomfortably so, and her nipples beaded painfully hard, begging for his touch. The dull pulse of an impending orgasm clenched her core. He already had her strung tight.
“Savvy.”
There it was again, this time louder. Unmistakable. She straightened, standing to her full height, and yanked her arms from the confinement of the jacket. Her hands landed on his chest, firm, hard, and undeniable as she pushed him.
“Did you hear that?” She cocked her head, trying to listen.
Keenan’s sigh was filled with annoyance as the faint call of her name drifted in from outside.
Dominic.
Her silent seducer didn’t remove his hand from her flesh. His mind was still on the game and he was tallying major points for perseverance, but Dominic’s voice wasn’t a soundtrack she could have sex to.
“I need to go.”
His thumb continued to stroke her clit in a way that spoke of mass disappointment if she walked away. There was a promise of pleasure in his eyes. A solemn pledge of ecstasy in his sensuous lips. She couldn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t allow it.
She trailed her hands from his chest to his neck and dug her nails into his nape. “I don’t want to leave.”
The ferocity in his steely irises didn’t change. He rubbed harder, enticing tiny gyrations from her hips. She fell into him, grazing her mouth over the stubble of his jaw.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Her whisper was almost poetic in pitch. Whimsical. Erotic. “But I think you should.”
“Savvy.” Dominic’s yell echoed off the walls and doused her in a bucket of reality.
She lowered her hands from Keenan’s neck and slid away from him. Her chest heaved as she backtracked. He didn’t deny her retreat, he remained facing the mirror and leaned over, placing his fists on the counter. His stare was harsh, judging her and finding her lacking.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Sorry for following him in there. Sorry for being unable to deny his kiss. And sorry for still wanting more.
He made no move to console her. Instead, he stole her voice with his scrutiny. Even though his expression was blank and his lips flat, his eyes crackled with denied pleasure. She wanted to believe that look was his way of begging her to stay. Wanted to believe it and had to deny it at the same time because the narrowed stare was too harsh to be kind.
With her heart pounding in her throat, she winced in apology, snatched her jacket out from in front of him, and rushed from the alcove, not allowing herself to look back.
Chapter Eight
Savannah tried to control her panted breaths as she ran on the tips of her toes to the back door. Her boots were still waiting for her, while her sanity was left somewhere inside the bathroom.
She flung her jacket over her left arm and clutched the footwear under her elbow. With the flick of her wrist she opened the door and snuck outside. Freezing air infiltrated her lungs
as she rushed along the path in sock-covered feet. The smell of bonfire smoke flittered on the breeze, the brief wisps of white ascending into the sky above the head-high hedge she approached.
She increased her pace toward the drunken chatter, breaking into a run along a barely visible path. She was gasping by the time she reached the small break in the hedge and slammed straight into a chest that almost set her on her ass.
“Dominic.” She clung to the arms of her cousin’s jacket to stop from falling.
“Where the hell have you been?” He glowered at her, taking in her appearance and stopping at her socks.
Her toes were ice, mere seconds away from falling off. “Don’t ask.” She placed her boots on the ground and yanked on her jacket. Warmth slowly heated her veins, but it wasn’t from the added layer of clothing. It was entirely from the images of Keenan in her mind. She’d followed him into that house, stumbling over her expanding libido along the way. He was the exact opposite of every business orientated, straight-laced man she’d ever slept with, and the favorable taste that still lingered on her tongue made it clear her previous appetite would no longer satisfy.
“Have you seen Keenan?” Dominic crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance personified.
“Um…” She leaned over, shoving her feet into her boots to buy time.
“Savvy?” His voice was a growl.
“Look, I’m sorry I disappeared.” She fiddled with her socks, still unable to look at him. “But you don’t need to worry about me.”
“I don’t care that you disappeared. But disappearing with Keenan is a bad idea.”
She bristled. Straightened. “Because?”
“Because he’s not the type of guy for you.”
She opened her mouth, poised to retaliate, then snapped it closed again. Dealing with Penny and the stick up her ass was hard enough. She didn’t want to argue with Dominic, too. He was her only ally. Her only friend in Seattle.
