“Screw that.” She looked annoyed on his behalf. “It’s your birthday. You should have the power to reschedule. Why not have actual fun on your big day and subject yourself to the Keegan Inquisition on another night?”
He chuckled. “If only it were that simple.” But as he said the words, a bolt of rebellious zeal shot through him. He was a grown man. Why couldn’t it be that simple? His mother would be disappointed, and his father would grumble about duty to family. But they were already disappointed that he hadn’t managed to hang on to Felicity and that he’d ducked a future in law while they’d been so hyperfocused on grooming his brothers. Next to his disgraced uncle, Daniel was possibly the biggest disappointment of the Keegan family. Instead of trying to fly under the radar or win them over with tenure, why not just embrace it?
Eli and Sean and Mia had all made passing comments about how it might be healthy to lose control every once in a while. Maybe they had it wrong. Maybe what Daniel really needed was to take control of his own life and stop letting his family influence so much. It was a heady thought.
Mia stood and picked up her plate. “Give me a few minutes to clean the dishes. Then we’ll finish off the wine and discuss your ideas for our ‘after-dinner activity.’”
“Want some help?”
“No. Let me do my hostess thing, you just sit and think about what I said.” She cupped the side of his face, her expression more tender than he’d ever seen it. Or maybe that was a trick of the candlelight. “I won’t pretend to understand your family dynamics, but it’s hard not to want more for you. Especially on a day that should be all about you.”
All about him? What a euphorically selfish idea. It had been drilled into him that he should care about his family first, about how everything reflected on them, about how mistakes could make his older brothers look bad so Daniel had better not make any. Giddy from Mia’s liberating influence, he reached for his cellphone before he changed his mind. His parents wouldn’t be asleep; they never missed the late night news.
His father answered on the first ring. “Daniel. Unexpected to hear from you at this hour.” His tone was full of rebuke; he didn’t even stop to ask why his son was calling.
“Sorry. Had you turned in for the evening?”
“No, no. Your mother and I are just about to watch the news.”
“I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to let you know I need to reschedule dinner next Thursday.”
“Thursday? But that’s your birthday.”
“Exactly. And I have birthday plans.”
“Nonsense.” His voice grew muffled as he turned to relate the situation to his wife, who took the phone.
“Daniel?” Sylvia Keegan’s voice was perplexed. “I think your father’s confused. Why would we cancel your birthday dinner? It’s the perfect time for the whole family to strategize—”
“Not cancel, just reschedule.” Never mind that some people thought birthdays should be about celebration and cake rather than political strategy.
“But we always get together on your birthday.”
“Mom. In thirty-one years of birthdays, did you ever ask me if that’s what I wanted?”
“Well, that’s gratitude for you! I can’t believe that after—”
“We can reschedule it to a night of your convenience, or we can cancel it outright. I love you either way, but I’m following my own plans.”
She huffed out a breath, making it clear that Daniel had just annihilated whatever slim chance he’d had of becoming her favorite son. Unless either of his brothers were stupid enough to become embroiled in some kind of sex and drugs scandal. “Wednesday, then.” Her icy tone dared him to say that Wednesday was no good for him.
“I’ll be there.” He grinned at Mia, who was watching with wide eyes from the doorway. “And I’m bringing a date.”
9
“YOU DID IT.” Mia didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but she’d expected him to think over her proposition, not jump on the phone immediately and derail a tradition over three decades old. Never underestimate the persuasive power of a woman in see-through lace. “That’s terrific. About that part where you said you were bringing a date...” She didn’t want to leap to the conclusion that he meant her without getting clarification.
“Ah. Yes, about that.” His smile was sheepish. “I was riding the high of speaking my mind. I didn’t mean to drag you into meeting my family without asking you first. I don’t even know if you’re free next Wednesday. Regardless, I can always tell them you had a scheduling conflict and go alone.”
As the person who’d urged him to make the call in the first place, she felt like she should help him face the consequences. On the other hand, much as she cared about Daniel, she emphatically did not want to spend the evening with his parents. Hell, I don’t even want to spend an evening with my parents.
The germ of an idea took hold. Her father and stepmother would be here in a couple of weeks. One reason she disliked spending time with them was the suffocating sense that they were ganging up on her, the two of them together finding more fault with her than her father alone ever had. But if she brought a date with her, it would even up the numbers and perhaps put them on good behavior. Surely they’d rein in the usual criticism in front of a stranger.
“My father is bringing my stepmother to town for Valentine’s Day. They’re taking in a show, and I’m supposed to meet them afterward. How about we trade off moral support? I’ll go with you if you go with me.”
“Is that your way of asking me to be your Valentine?”
“Or my designated driver.” Her lips twisted. “Sometimes I deal with my stepmother better after a few glasses of wine.”
“I’m happy to be both. And speaking of wine.” He topped off both of their glasses and carried them to the couch, where she joined him. “A toast to you. For giving me the swift kick in the ass I needed.”
She laughed. “I keep trying to tell Shannon, swift kicks are one of my specialties.”
They clinked their glasses together, and she stretched her legs across his lap as quiet settled over the candlelit room. She’d coordinated several weddings and now found herself wondering about the couples who’d gotten married. Was this how their days ended? Amiably bitching about jobs and family before lapsing into peaceful physical closeness? For a disconcerting moment, this felt more intimate than when he touched her, than when he was inside her. Uncomfortable, she cast about for something to say just to break the silence, relief bubbling up when Daniel spoke instead.
“So do I get any hints about my birthday?” he asked.
“Nope. It’s a surprise.” Slowly rotating her ankle so that her foot pressed against him, she gave him a wicked smile. “Although, whether or not the after-party includes birthday spankings is up for discussion.”
He blinked, but a split second later, he grinned, matching her tone. “Maybe we should have that discussion this weekend. Via text.”
Mercy. The memory of their last texting session left her flushed. “Perv,” she said affectionately.
“Says the woman who brought up spanking.” He pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot, massaging with such perfect pressure that she moaned, her head falling back against the arm of the sofa. “This is where you were the night we talked on the phone, isn’t it? On this couch?” His voice was rougher now, the playfulness gone as his fingers trailed up from her foot to the curve of her calf then across the ultrasensitive skin on the back of her knee.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes, remembering—not her own frantic touches there in the living room but his hoarse cry on the other end of the phone. Daniel in the full throes of passion. She shifted her hips, the fabric of her thong growing damp.
He leaned over her, his hand now grazing the tattoo at the top of her inner thigh. “Would you like to show me to your room, or should I t
ake you right here?”
She trembled with anticipation. If they stayed here, he could be inside her in minutes. But there was lots of space to roll around on her bed and the slatted headboard made for a sturdy anchor.
“I’ll take you any way I can get you,” he added, “but if you walk down the hallway, I get to watch your ass.”
She sat up slowly, his gaze hot on her body. “Follow me, then.”
He’d kicked off his shoes earlier. Now, covering the short distance to her bedroom, he shrugged out of his clothes, letting them fall where they may. By the time he pressed her back to the mattress and dotted kisses along her mouth, her neck and the valley of her cleavage, he was gloriously naked.
“Efficient,” she said, nipping at his throat. “I like it.”
They’d sprawled across the bed with his thigh between her legs, and she ground against him shamelessly while he tugged down the lace neckline hard enough to make her breasts bounce free. He plucked at the straps of the chemise but left them in place.
“I like seeing you framed like this.” His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, gratifyingly possessive in a way that made her ache. “On display for me.”
“I did choose this outfit with you in mind.”
“Good choice.” He rewarded her by lightly rubbing his jaw over one tight nipple, the faint abrasion of his five o’clock shadow making her breath catch. Then he soothed a kiss over her and sucked gently. Too gently, making her yearn for more.
She twined her fingers in his dark hair, trying to arch up against his mouth.
“In a hurry?” he asked with a lazy smile.
“Not at all,” she lied. “Go as slow as you like.” Holy hell, what was she saying? What if Daniel took her at her word, tormenting her with light caresses and soft kisses? Desire flared higher even as she hoped he didn’t. Or maybe she hoped he would. It was all a tangle of need and heat and the throb building inside her that demanded to be eased.
Meeting her eyes, he teased a fingertip over her other nipple. Then twisted, the sudden pressure making her gasp, her toes curling into the comforter as her body bowed upward. His expression was pure sin. “I know how you like surprises.”
“You—” Words eluded her, so she squirmed against his thigh again, trying to relieve some of the ache, marveling that in a week’s time, she’d tumbled from a bout of extended celibacy to being in the sculpted arms of a criminally seductive lover. She smoothed her hand over his face, sighing. “You.” It was a rather inane endearment, but he seemed pleased with it, kissing each of her fingertips before scooting lower on the bed to remove the now soaked thong she wore.
“Condoms?” he growled.
“Nightstand.” Right next to the clear plastic case holding—
His eyebrows raised as he held up the bullet-shaped vibrator that fit easily in his palm. “Is this what I think it is?” Apparently the heat that bloomed in her face was answer enough. He nodded to himself, studying it. “It’s small.”
“Gets the job done.” There was another, more traditionally shaped vibrator farther back in the drawer, but the one in Daniel’s hand was meant for clitoral stimulation.
Daniel tossed the condom and the vibe onto the bed next to her, then returned to lavishing her breasts with attention. He didn’t stop until she was thrashing beneath him, babbling incoherent praise for his mouth, his hands, his cock pressed against her hip in rock-hard promise. Only then did he sheathe himself in the condom.
He reached for the vibrator. “This goes here—” a whimper-inducing brush of his thumb against her swollen clit “—right?”
Unable to find her voice, she nodded.
Pressing his body to hers, he flexed his hips and surged into her in one smooth stroke. His blasphemous curse sounded almost reverent the way he whispered it. She tightened around him, greedy, aroused, but he didn’t move. Instead he held her impaled, pinned in place, as he flipped on the little vibe and set it against her, between them. The sensations against her clit, combined with him so deeply inside her, sent her into a frenzy, gyrating and sliding along his length, riding him from below, as her nails scored his skin.
Oh, God. Too much, too much. And, paradoxically, not enough. Not yet. Tension coiled inside her, building, doubling back on itself, approaching a cataclysmic breaking point. Blood swelled to her already engorged nipples, and her hips jerked in a rhythm beyond her control.
“That’s it, honey.” His tone was stark need. “Come all over me.”
She didn’t just come. She shattered.
Her guttural cry rang in her ears, and she convulsed around him. When the first tremors shook her, he tossed the vibrator aside and began to piston into her. The world blurred, and she focused on the harsh masculine beauty of his face as his own pleasure climbed and propelled him into shuddering in release.
He fell against the pillows, pitching onto his side to take her with him.
She swallowed back a sudden wave of emotion, startled by the sudden burn in the back of her throat. She should be euphoric, flying. But mixed in with the rapturous satisfaction was also a stab of panic. Every time they had sex, she couldn’t imagine it getting any better. It always did.
And it always left her feeling even closer to him than before, inexorably bonded. Whether she wanted to be or not.
* * *
MIA STARED THROUGH the windshield, transfixed as Daniel drove onto a curved driveway that was longer than the street she’d lived on as a kid. She wasn’t sure precisely where the dividing line fell between big damn house and actual mansion. But the Keegan family home was, at the very least, mansion-esque. Mansion lite? The sweeping front lawn—which included a fountain burbling in the muted glare of twin spotlights—boasted lush grass and full topiaries one didn’t normally associate with February. No doubt his parents relied on a team of gardeners. Or ritual sacrifice.
“Do either of your brothers still live at home?” she asked.
“Of course not.”
So a house where only two people lived had a three-car garage? At her apartment complex, she didn’t even have a dedicated parking spot. The columns in front of the multilevel minimansion made her think of barred windows. She felt trapped and she hadn’t even set foot inside. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Just because her own parents disapproved of her didn’t mean his automatically would.
“Paul and Rachel live in Alpharetta with their sons,” Daniel was saying. “Paul’s a Fulton County superior court judge. Greg’s the oldest, the one who hopes to be governor. He and his wife, Ann, have boys, too. Plenty of grandsons to carry on the Keegan family name.” He said that part almost grimly. If his proposal to Felicity had gone according to plan, they might have set a wedding date by now. Did it gall him that he was no closer to marriage and a family of his own?
He parked the car. “I owe you for this. But at least you’re guaranteed good food. Dinner is always the birthday person’s childhood favorite.”
“And in your case, that would be...?”
“Seafood risotto.”
She stared. Had the Keegans never heard of fried chicken? “You’re kidding.” She was glad she hadn’t realized what kind of meals he was used to when she’d braved cooking for him last week.
“What do you have against seafood risotto?”
“Nothing at all. But I’m a grown woman with a refined palate. That was your childhood favorite?”
“It was creamy and comforting.”
“So is mac and cheese.” She entertained a fantasy of sending his parents a case of it, artificial orange powder and all. What am I doing here? But she knew the answer to that. Daniel had asked her, so she’d said yes.
Yes was practically her favorite word where he was concerned. She’d certainly shouted it enough Monday night, when he’d come over after work to ostensibly watch a movie. They never made it past t
he opening credits.
He opened his car door, giving her a reassuring smile. “I forgot to mention, you look beautiful.”
She smoothed a hand over the hem of her skirt. Deciding what to wear had been a challenge, but she’d decided it was impossible to go wrong with a classic little black dress. Hers was a vintage organza with lace detailing at the top. Under direct light, the fabric was beginning to show its age, but she filled out the dress nicely and had accessorized with bright, funky jewelry. “Thank you.”
Hand in hand, they walked to the front door, which opened while the doorbell was still gonging. A fiftysomething woman with a smart haircut and expensive tailored pantsuit smiled up at them. “Daniel!” She leaned close for a fleeting hug. “Happy birthday, my boy.” Then she turned to Mia. “And you must be...”
“Mia Hayes. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Keegan.”
“Oh, dear me, no.” An icy voice sounded from the left of the doorway, beyond where Mia could see. But then a woman with alabaster skin preternaturally devoid of wrinkles, white-blond hair and pale gray eyes stepped into view; she looked like frostbite in designer shoes. “That’s our housekeeper, Betty. I’m Sylvia Keegan.”
“I’m sorry,” Mia said, her gaze flitting from Betty to Daniel to his mother. She wasn’t entirely sure which of the three of them she was apologizing to.
Betty patted her arm with a sympathetic smile. After taking their coats, the housekeeper faded out of the foyer, making herself scarce with such elegance that it was like a magic trick.
“Everyone else is gathered in the dining room already,” Mrs. Keegan said, somehow managing to make it sound as if they were tardy. They’d arrived exactly on time.
Mrs. Keegan led them down a tiled hallway. The dining room was dominated by an ornate wooden table big enough to seat fourteen, but only six were there now. Daniel had mentioned earlier that these dinners were adults only. Mia doubted his nephews were disappointed, but what did she know? Maybe they had a yen for seafood risotto.
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