Inarticulate

by Eden Summers

  The man yanked his arm from Keenan’s grip. “Well? What are you looking at?” His expression turned smug, the caustic grin taunting. “Next time tell your bitch to stay out of the way.”

  “Let’s keep walking.” She inched forward and Keenan did, too, raising his chin in the man’s face. He was ready to fight. For her.

  “What?” The man laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

  Keenan clenched his fist and pushed the man’s chest with his free hand.

  “Stop it.” Savannah slid in front of him and placed her palm on his sternum. “Ignore him.” He didn’t quit glaring over her shoulder. “Please, Keenan. You don’t need to prove yourself to him.”

  “Yeah, Keenan,” the man mocked. “You don’t need to prove yourself.”

  The asshole had no idea what he was up against. Couldn’t he see the threat of violence in Keenan’s eyes? God knew she couldn’t ignore it.

  “Keenan?” She nudged his chest again. “Look at me.”

  His jaw ticked, the vein in his neck pulsed, and long seconds flittered by before his focus met hers, steely and determined. The man scoffed from behind her, his presence leaving moments later.

  “That wasn’t necessary,” she murmured and cupped his cheek. “You’re better than him.” It was the truth. If anything, it was an understatement. But he grunted anyway and glared into the distance.

  She could see the damage to his pride. The destruction was like a flare in the night, a brutal wound on otherwise unmarred skin. He couldn’t handle assaults aimed toward his lack of speech. He may have mastered the skill to silently communicate, but his ability to reject insults was non-existent.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Her tone held delicious meaning, only he didn’t reciprocate the desire. “Please, Keenan.”

  His lower jaw flexed under her palm and his harsh inhalations pained her. She reached on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his, feeling nothing but the sterile rigidity of his mouth. It was useless. She couldn’t soothe him.

  She fell back on her heels. “We should call it a night.”

  Wrath was drowning the beauty of his irises. He gripped her chin, making her gasp as he held her in place.

  She knew what he wanted. She could see it in his eyes. He needed to be in control of something. Anything. He needed to feel like he mattered. And he did. He already mattered so much to her.

  He plastered his mouth against hers, painfully hard, and swept his tongue into her mouth. There was no sweetness shared, only anger, and she liked it. She enjoyed being the one to take his ire.

  She could take a whole lot more, too.

  He yanked his head back, panting, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

  “I love when you do that.”

  He frowned in question.

  “You hold me, controlling me like you think I’m going to flee.” She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless that’s what you want.” She’d made up her mind. There were still weeks until she left Seattle, and she wanted to spend them with him.

  “I’m yours to do with what you will until I fly home.”

  She couldn’t read the message in his eyes. Right now she couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. He released her chin, his hand falling down between them to grip her wrist. He strode away, leading her along the sidewalk, not once stopping to glance over his shoulder.

  “Where are we going?”

  From his profile, she could see a sinister grin. That was her only answer—devilish focus.

  He tugged her around corners, down an alley, and onto another street. She was glad she wore her flats, otherwise her feet wouldn’t have made the distance.

  He pulled her to the left, down a wide pathway before a menacing tower. Her attention raked over the mass of gleaming windows toward the twinkling sign above the front doors.

  Grandiosity.

  “Oh, no.” She shuddered at the egotistical phallus symbol. An elaborate chandelier glistened in the foyer, the bright twinkle almost blinding. Everything was shiny, refined, and pretentious.

  “Are they overcompensating for much?” she drawled.

  Keenan’s gaze landed on her, and she met his raised brow.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your employer.”

  His brow raised higher.

  She chuckled. “Okay. It was clearly meant in offense. But everything here is so…” Arrogant? Imperious? Narcissistic? “…over the top.”

  He ignored her and tugged on her hand.

  “No.” She planted her feet and pulled her arm back. “I can’t be seen in there.”

  He pressed his lips together, shrugged, and then walked toward the entrance to the building. She remained in place, watching as a middle-aged doorman descended the steps to greet him with a strong clap to his upper arm.

  “Keenan, my man. What can I do for you tonight?”

  Keenan pointed a lone finger to the sky with a raised brow.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed and turned her back to him. So much for being careful. This was stupidity at its finest.

  She raised her collar, lowered her chin like she was some sort of secret agent, and swiveled back to the men.

  Keenan had pulled out his wallet and was handing over a stack of bills.

  What the hell? “No.” She raised her voice, unwilling to let him waste his money on her. “What are you doing?”

  Keenan ignored her as she came forward. The door man couldn’t take his eyes off the cash, his tongue working his bottom lip in hunger as he eyed the money.

  “Let me see what I can do.” The guy jogged back up the stairs and pushed into the building to head for the reception desk manned by a lone woman.

  “What’s going on?” She couldn’t help the accusation in her tone. The money he’d handed over wasn’t pocket change. It was a substantial amount of bills. Something she couldn’t allow him to give away. Not on her account.

  He waggled his brows and grasped her hand to raise it to his lips. He placed a long, lingering kiss on her knuckles, almost succeeding in making her forget where they were and what they were doing.

  “We agreed we were going to be careful.” She waved an arm at the building. “This isn’t careful.”

  The door swished open behind her and she stiffened at the approaching footfalls.

  “You’ve got until nine.” The doorman handed Keenan a room card.

  Nine? She stared at Keenan, but he was ignoring her again, nodding at the other man.

  “I’ve organized the usual.”

  “The usual?” Savannah murmured.

  “But remember, be out by nine or my ass is on the line.”

  As the men shook hands in farewell, Savannah retrieved her cell from her pants pocket to check the time. It was almost eight. Whatever they had planned would only last an hour. Sixty minutes of potential exposure.

  The doorman walked away and Keenan stepped into her, his fingers finding her chin, his grip tightening.

  “That dreamy hold isn’t going to work on me.” She lifted her lashes and met his steely stare.

  He leaned in, his gorgeous mouth approaching.

  “Nope.” She snapped her fingers up to cover his lips. “That won’t work either.”

  He quirked a brow of disbelief.

  “What are we doing here?” she whispered.

  He raised the room card, taunting her with the promise of seclusion and pleasure.

  “Why am I even contemplating this?” It was only sex. Only a mingling of limbs and lips and private parts. Yet something so simple and entirely physical had a hold on her like a steel trap around her ankles.

  “I can’t be seen in there.” She pleaded with her eyes, hoping he would be the lighthouse in the storm of rushing hormones.

  Instead, he yanked at her jacket collar, pulling it higher to cover her jawline, then trailed his hand down her arm to link their fingers.

  He stepped away, taki
ng the first approach toward temptation. She kept her feet planted, their arms outstretching between them as her body filled with the freezing night air. This was one of those moments when she knew what she was doing was wrong. It was stupid. It was careless. And still her feet stumbled forward of their own accord.

  She followed where he led—up the stairs, past the front doors, and through the lobby. She kept her head low, hiding under her collar while Keenan’s thumb stroked her hand, back and forth, back and forth.

  She focused on the trail of tingles his touch ignited, not once looking up until they were in the sanctuary of the elevator hall. A relieved sigh left her lips and she leaned against the wall, waiting for one of the four doors to open to her rescue.

  “What do we have until nine, Keenan?”

  She chanced a glance to her side, but her vision bypassed the gorgeous man and became hooked on the security camera in the corner of the roof. Shit. She ducked her head and snuggled closer into him.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she muttered.

  Keenan squeezed her hand and spun her to the far elevator behind them, its doors now open wide. She shuffled to keep at his side, hiding behind the wall of his shoulders as they entered the small space.

  “Where to now?”

  He ignored her and slid the room card into the security panel before pressing the button for the top floor.

  “Keenan?”

  The doors closed and he stared at the numbers that increased the higher they ascended. Three… Eight… Ten… Her heart rate climbed, too. Fifteen… Twenty… Twenty-five… Thirty. Ding.

  Inch by inch, a view of immaculate tiles and a crystal chandelier opened before her. She stepped out of the elevator and into the opulence, immersing herself in the overbearing beauty of highly priced wall art.

  Keenan’s palm pressed into her back as he led her to the penthouse door.

  “I really shouldn’t be here.” But it was only for an hour. What trouble could they get into in sixty minutes?

  He opened the lock with a press of the room card against the small black panel on the frame and ushered her inside. Her mouth was open wide as she entered the hall. The vast difference between Grandiosity and Rydel were laid before her in sparkling colors.

  He slid his palm into hers, and the tingle of his touch accompanied her into the main room.

  “Oh… Wow…” More pompous narcissism bombarded her, but it was beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. The black of night pressed against the floor to ceiling windows, and the reflection of glistening tiles and stainless steel appliances beamed back at her. Everything was immaculate, just as you’d expect from a room which probably cost her healthy monthly salary for one night within the sacred walls.

  “It’s magnificent.” Keenan made to step away, but she clung to his hand and pulled him back. “It’s magnificent… But we should leave.”

  The nudge of guilt entered her mind. Not only was she in a competitor’s building, she was in the penthouse, fantasizing about one of their employees and all the naughty things they could do under their roof.

  He tugged her toward him, into his chest, and kissed her. He seduced a whimper from her throat and compliance from her body. It was confounding—his power. She shouldn’t be this malleable to a man, and yet all her heart thrummed to do was to please him. To make him smile. To make him growl.

  He broke their connection slowly, his gaze staring down at her, saying silent words she deciphered like a mastermind code cracker. He wanted her, too. Not just a kiss or a caress. The need flowing through her veins was equally as potent in his. But there was more. She could see mindlessness staring back at her. He knew they shouldn’t be here, he knew all the risks and how careless this was. She could also see something bigger, something that added a spark of vulnerability. Did he want more than gratification? Was he aiming to steal her heart?

  He turned toward the glass doors leading outside and opened them wide. The freezing air didn’t stop her from following after him, onto a balcony bigger than her San Francisco apartment. She blinked away the clouded fog in her mind and focused on the glistening shimmer of the illuminated pool. The surface seeped with mist, the warmth of the water fighting back against the cold of night.

  The sound of rustling clothes came from beside her, and she glanced over to find Keenan throwing his jacket to a nearby lounger.

  “What are you doing?”

  He shot her a sly look and toed off his shoes.

  “You’re going swimming?”

  He unbuckled his belt and shucked his pants, leaving them in a pile on the tile floor. His shirt was next, exposing a mass of muscled skin covered with gooseflesh. One by one, he took off the remainder of his clothes, leaving only his boxer briefs behind.

  He outstretched a hand, offering her an invitation to his insanity.

  “Oh, no. I’m not getting in there with you.” He had no concept of what it took to be careful—not when it came to this connection between them, and definitely not where hypothermia was concerned. “You can’t be serious.”

  The bulge pressing against the crotch of his boxer briefs announced that he, in fact, was dead serious. He padded barefoot to the far end of the pool and bent over, preparing to dive. Back and forth he swayed his arms, giving her a self-satisfied look that made her want to shake him and fuck him at the same time.

  Then he was moving, gliding through the air, penetrating the fog and plunging deep. He swam underwater, effortlessly progressing until he reached the opposite end of the pool and broke the surface.

  Liquid shone on his skin, the droplets falling from his hair and down the muscles of his back. He glanced over his shoulder and jerked his chin for her to come forward.

  “Nope.” She couldn’t be eloquent at a time like this. Not that she ever was. But with a Greek god on display, his body ripe for her touch and her teeth, she couldn’t even form a string of syllables.

  He dived to his left, swam toward her side of the pool, and gripped the edge in one hand. He worked her with that sneaky smirk, commanding all her nerves to heightened sensitivity before crooking a finger at her.

  “No. I’ll watch.” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her hands inside the jacket to keep warm. “We only have an hour. I plan on using my time wisely.” For example, memorizing every inch of his profound body while it was at her visual mercy.

  He frowned. “Not one,” he mouthed. His hand breached the water’s surface and he flashed his fingers once, twice, then held up three on their own.

  “We’ve got thirteen hours?”

  He didn’t answer in movement. Only the gleam in his eyes announced they had more than brief minutes at their disposal. They had an entire night. In the penthouse. In their own private pool.

  “Nope. I’m still not getting in there.”

  He splashed her, the wave of water penetrating her shoes and pants.

  She squealed and jumped back. “It’s freezing out!”

  He shot her a look that spoke of undeniable heat. A look so captivating it made her forget it was ten-thousand degrees below the desired temperature to be swimming. She eyed her surroundings in apprehension. The balcony was bathed in darkness, the pool lights were dim, but the penthouse was a backdrop of illumination. She wondered if the few neighboring skyscrapers would be a platform for their peepshow. The distant buildings could house a plethora of voyeurs.

  She turned back to him, immediately pinned by the weight of his stare. There shouldn’t be any question that this was a bad idea. She was professional, mature, and independent. Yet all those attributes died under the weight of his grin.

  He was unbelievable. Undeniable.

  “You know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”

  The curve of his lips increased.

  “Smug bastard,” she murmured under her breath and toed off her shoes. There was no conclusion to this night that wouldn’t end in a runny nose and shattering chest cough. And still she continued to undress, albe
it faster and with less seduction than Keenan had. She threw off her jacket, ditched her long-sleeve top, shucked her jeans, and yanked off her socks.

  The tile was ice beneath her feet. The air around them cold enough to freeze Santa’s balls. She tiptoed to the pool stairs, dipped her foot into the water, and was surprised by the warmth heating her tiny toes.

  Keenan approached her in the shallow end, his strokes effortless, his muscles taut. He stood to his full height, his chest exposed to the elements as she descended to the first step.

  “We’re going to catch pneumonia when we get out.”

  He laughed silently and lunged for her. His wet arms sailed around her waist to lift her off her feet. She squealed as he dragged her against his chest and into neck-high water.

  “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” Her teeth chattered even though she wasn’t cold. It was his hold that made her shiver. His touch that confused her senses.

  His mouth took over hers as they glided through the warmth. She circled his waist with her legs, his neck with her arms, entwining them as one. There was no need for air, only more of him. She held him tight, tighter than she’d ever held any man before, and tried to kiss the desire out of her system. Each stroke of tongues inspired more need, each clink of teeth made her fingers clench for more. There was no end in sight. No relief within her grasp.

  He held her as if his life depended on it. One arm was around her waist, strong and protective. The other curled around her back, along her spine so his fingers mingled with her hair. The hard length of his erection nudged her pubic bone and she pulled back to clear her head. They couldn’t have sex here. Not in plain sight. Not when they were illuminated by the underwater lights.

  “We need to stop.”

  She nuzzled her cheek against his, letting the rough stubble scratch her skin. She kissed the side of his jaw, his earlobe, his neck. She wanted to kiss him everywhere, and would’ve if she wasn’t desperately clinging to the last vestiges of her control.

  The first time they met was intriguing. The night of the bonfire was thrilling. When they slept together, he’d won over her body. But tonight she worried he was winning over her heart. Worse, she feared he’d see it if she looked into his eyes. There was no way her feelings weren’t written all over her face.