by Shae Scott
"Okay. But you have to talk to me next time. I can deal with a lot of shit, Keaton, but not the way you treated me today. We're going to fight. We're going to disagree. Don't shut me out when we do," she said.
"Okay," I offered back. It was all I could get past the lump in my throat.
"So, tell me about your trip," she said. And just like that the storm had passed. I settled back against my headboard and told her everything. The way I should have from the beginning.
TODAY WAS A big day. Huge. I had two interviews and I was pretty sure I might vomit before they started. I was hoping the vomit would come first. Somehow I doubted puking in the trashcan during was going to win me any points. I was just so nervous. It's normal I guess. You leave college thinking anything is possible and then you step out into the real world and realize it's not nearly as rosy as you had hoped.
Real life is scary. Being a grown up, making grown-up decisions and becoming a real member of society with actual responsibility was down right terrifying if you really stopped to think about it. Maybe that was my problem; I needed to stop thinking about it.
"Babe, are you going to puke?" Keaton asked me. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands on my knees, staring straight ahead and taking deep breaths. In. Out. At the sound of his voice I looked up and met his eyes. That just caused my breath to stop all together. He leaned against the doorjamb of the bathroom doorway wearing only a towel. I'm not sure I'd ever get used to seeing him that way. He was beautiful. My eyes lingered on his chest, the well sculpted lines, the firm, taut skin that begged to be touched, kissed, and worshiped. The way he felt when he moved over my body, the way he arched as my nails moved along his back, the weight of him as he collapsed against me, spent.
I heard his soft chuckle and my gaze moved back to his face, focusing in on the amused look there. "Well, I think the fear of puke is gone for the moment," he said moving towards me. "But, fuck, Quinn, you look so goddamn sexy when you get that hungry look in your eyes." He moved across the room deliberately and I had barely taken a breath when he had me pushed back onto the unmade bed, kissing me as I fell.
This was the perfect distraction to my worry. Maybe I could take him with me and when I started to feel nervous he could grab me up and do this. That wouldn't be weird. I'm sure that kind of thing happened all the time. I laughed a little at the thought and Keaton pulled back to look down at me.
"Are you seriously laughing at me?" he asked. His towel had slipped away from his hips and I slid my fingers across his hips and gave his ass a squeeze.
"No, I was just thinking how nice it would be if I could take you with me today and when I got nervous and wanted to puke you could kiss me and make it all go away," I said, smiling up at him.
"You want to take me with you?" he mused.
"Everywhere. Do you have plans? I'm going to need you at my beck and call," I said.
He pretended to think about it seriously. "What happens if you get nervous in the middle of the interview and I have to come in to distract you and I start kissing your neck," he said demonstrating the way he would run his mouth along my skin from my shoulder up to my ear. "And you get so turned on that you make that little moan that you do? Because we both know that when you make that little moan I have no control over what I do next. I will have to take you right there on the desk of some editor. Do you think that would help or hurt your chances?" he asked as he continued to kiss me along my collarbone.
"That depends," I sighed.
"On?" he asked, his mouth moving lower to kiss the cleavage above my cami.
"On if she gets to see your ass. Because if she gets to see your ass then I'm sure that I'd be shoe in just for the show," I said.
"You want your new boss to see my ass?" he asked, stopping to look at me with faux shock.
"Hey, if it gets me the job," I teased giggling.
"Oh is that how it is?" he asked, grinding into me. I could feel him, hard against my sleep shorts. I pushed up into him, wanting to feel him move against me, to feel the friction there. His teasing kisses were leaving me wanting. The moan fell out on a sigh as he pushed against me.
"Now you've done it," he said, pushing my hands up over my head. He gave me a stern look, daring me to move them before moving his large hands across my stomach and pushing the top up and over my head.
"I have to get ready. I can't be late," I protested weakly.
"You should have thought about that before you let that sexy little moan escape. I warned you, I can't control myself. It's your own fault. You did this. You're mine now." He left my hands above my head, instructing me to keep them there and then he ran his hands across my body until he reached the tiny shorts. "These are going to need to go," he said. I loved when he was teasing. I loved that he could be playful and passionate at the same time. Yeah, Keaton Harris was most definitely the best kind of distraction.
I WALKED OUT of my interview feeling pretty good. Somehow, I'd managed to hold on to my nerves and form words that actually went together in meaningful sentences. There'd been a good rapport with the group I'd interviewed with and it felt like a great place to start my career. Now I just had to wait to see if they agreed.
I stepped out into the harsh sunlight, shielding my eyes. As soon as I was able to focus I saw him, leaned against a street sign with his hands in his pockets, casual, yet somehow also looking like he was posing for a magazine shoot. I'd guess People’s Fifty Most Beautiful People or Sexiest Man Alive. I think he could win both. I smiled, it overtook me as I ran into his arms.
"You waited," I sighed taking in his scent. If I could bottle it, I'd be set for life.
"Of course I waited, silly girl, where else was I going to go?" He kissed the top of my head and I felt warmth spread all the way down to my toes. "So, how did it go? Did they offer you the job right away?" he asked.
I laughed, "Pretty sure it doesn't work that way."
"They should have. Idiots," he teased.
"It went well. I liked them. It seems like a really nice company. We'll wait and see. I'll keep at it until someone says yes."
"I want them to say yes right now, so you can just stay here," he said quietly. I rested my chin against his chest and looked up at him. He gave me a soft smile.
"Me too," I admitted. It was hard when each visit had a definitive end. Each beginning, as happy as it was started a timer; so each moment was racing against the end, against the buzzer. I couldn't wait until we could exist without the constant clock. I couldn't wait to be with him whenever I wanted and not worry about having to leave.
"Let's walk, we can go get some lunch or something," he said, offering me his hand. I slid mine into it and we started down the busy street. I didn't even mind the hustle that existed around us, because when I was walking with him it felt like it was just us.
After lunch I had Keaton take me to one of the farmer's markets so I could pick up a few things. Keaton had mentioned that he needed to get a little bit of writing done. I knew he hated to do it while I was here, but he had deadlines to meet. I was fine with it. Honestly, I was excited at the idea of taking over his kitchen and making us dinner. I grabbed some fresh veggies and some homemade bread and we started back to the apartment.
"So when you move here are you going to make me dinner all the time?" he asked as we loaded into the elevator.
"Depends on how nice you are," I shrugged.
"Nice? Do you like it when I'm nice?"
I threw him a flirty look. And his lip curled into a mischievous grin.
"Stop your scheming," I warned.
"What scheming?" he asked innocently.
"You think I don't know what that look means?" I asked.
"Tell me," he said.
The elevator opened in front of us and I moved past him without giving him a glance. I heard him snicker behind me. I stood next to his door and watched as he shifted the bags in his arms as he stalked towards me. That was the only thing I could think to call it. He looked like a predator. A sexy
domestic predator. Only he could look so sexy and in control carrying groceries.
I watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for me to enter. He followed me into the kitchen and set the bags onto the counter. I set to taking things out of the bag, but squealed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist.
"You haven't answered my question," he growled as his mouth fell to my throat. His hands gripped my hips, digging in and pulling me back against him.
"Are you trying to distract me?"
"Depends on if it's working," he admitted.
I laughed and turned towards him so he could kiss me properly. His mouth was warm as it brushed across my lips before kissing me softly. He was slow, taking time to provide me his full attention. The man had skills.
"Have I told you how sexy I think it is that you are making me dinner?" he asked, his lips pressed just beneath my ear.
"Oh, well then I'm going to have to get domestic more often,” I said.
"I should lay you across this counter right now," he said. I felt the electricity shoot through me at his suggestion. His hands moved to my face, a palm on each cheek and he stared at me with that suggestive gaze that always left me reeling.
He moved closer and I readied myself for what was coming next.
He kissed my nose and stepped back suddenly, "But I have to write and you have to cook . . . so maybe some other time." He started to move away and head down the hall. I heard his chuckle as I stood in a dazed silence.
I turned just before he disappeared from sight. "This is what you call being nice?" I called out. He turned to throw me one of his famous Keaton Harris smiles. "You suck," I finished.
I heard his laughter fade down the hall. If this was a glimpse at my future I was more than ready to sign up.
KEATON'S KITCHEN WAS a dream. Especially from what I'd heard about New York apartments. I was pretty sure wherever I ended up in the city it wouldn't look like this. I turned on some music and set to making dinner. I had decided on an old recipe that my grandma had taught me to make when I was little.
Once I had everything in the oven and a salad made and in the fridge I glanced around the kitchen unsure what to do next. Keaton was still writing and I didn't want to disturb him. Even the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher already. Domestic bliss had taken me all of forty-five minutes.
Grabbing the trash I headed down the hall to the trash chute. It would always be weird for me to stuff my bag of garbage into a hole in the wall. It felt wrong. On my way back to the apartment I waved at a neighbor as the elevator stopped to collect him. .He gave me a reluctant wave in return, probably wondering who the overly happy, barefoot girl was.
I had a bounce in my step as I made my way back down the hall. Today had been perfect. It was simple and normal, without frills or over-the-top moments. I loved that most. These were the moments that I craved. I was practically humming when I reached the door. I stopped humming when I hit my head against said door when it refused to open.
It was locked.
Shit. It must have locked automatically when I'd shut it behind me. I knocked and waited. Keaton would laugh at me for this. I'd never live it down. I leaned in, my ear pressed to the door, to listen for footsteps. There was nothing. I knocked again. Louder. Still nothing.
I patted my pants pocket, looking for my phone. I could just call him and tell him to come let me in. He probably couldn't hear me all the way in his office. Shit. My phone was on the kitchen counter where I'd been using it for my recipe. I huffed out a frustrated breath, made a fist and began to bang on the door. Why didn't the man have a doorbell? I hit it hard, hoping he would hear me.
He didn't.
My happy mood quickly dimmed and I just slid down the door and sat with my head resting against the wood behind me. Surely he would notice that I was gone at some point.
He didn't.
Eventually, my domestic bliss was all but a distant memory. Dinner would be ruined. Hell, the kitchen could burst into flames and there was no guarantee that he'd even notice it.
I'm not sure how long I sat outside his front door. Long enough to smell the casserole burning. Long enough that I had lost all patience. My frustration was a slow burn, waiting to be set free.
God help me if he was in the zone. There was no telling how long I'd be out here. Maybe if the sprinklers went off he’d come looking for me.
I fell backwards as the door opened behind me. I looked up at the confused smirk on my boyfriend's face. Even though I was mad I couldn't help but notice how sexy he looked right now. His hair was sticking up all over, where he'd been running his hands through it.
"Why are you sitting in the hallway?" he asked.
I scurried to get on my feet. "I took the trash to the chute and I got locked out," I said. I moved past him into the apartment.
"Why didn't you knock?" he asked, shutting the door behind me.
I glared at him, I couldn't help it. "Huh, why didn’t I think of that?” I scoffed. He cocked his head, watching me curiously. I rolled my eyes, “I did knock. I banged on the door like crazy. You didn't hear me."
"Oh. Sorry. I had my headphones in," he shrugged. I huffed and turned to head into the kitchen. He followed close behind me.
"Is something burning?" he asked, oblivious.
I picked up the pace and opened the oven door to smoke. I pulled out the pan, its contents no longer recognizable.
"I'm guessing that's not what it was supposed to look like?" Keaton chuckled as he looked over my shoulder.
"It's ruined."
"It's no big deal. We'll order a pizza or something," he said.
I turned towards him, my annoyance flaring. "I don't want a stupid pizza. I wanted to make dinner. I wanted to do something special and now it's ruined. You didn't even know I was gone. I sat in that hallway for over an hour. You were so caught up in your writing you didn't even smell the smoke. What's wrong with you," I yelled, letting out my frustration.
I didn't miss the smirk that he was working really hard at trying to hide "It's not funny," I warned.
"It's a little bit funny," he said, his smile threatening to overtake him again
I held my glare, hanging onto my frustration and disappointment. He took a step towards me and pulled my arms away from my chest where they were stubbornly crossed.
"Stop it. I'm mad at you," I said.
"You're mad at me?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Because you got locked out?" he asked pressing his body against mine.
Another nod.
"And I didn't hear you? And dinner was ruined?"
"I wanted to do something nice," I said, allowing myself a small pout.
He wrapped his arms around me, "I'm sorry I didn't hear you and I’m sorry that it ruined dinner. I'll get a new lock or a new door." He said kissing the top of my head.
I couldn't help but laugh a little, my anger deflating and the silliness of the moment taking over.
"Better?" he asked.
"Sorry I almost burned your place down," I said grudgingly.
"Eh, I'd just get another one," he soothed. I laughed, my anger falling away. His embrace had the power to diffuse it instantly.
"So, pepperoni?" he asked.
"You might want to get extra cheese," I sighed, leaning into him.
"Anything you want, baby."
We ate our pizza in bed and it was the best dinner I'd ever had.
WHEN I WOKE up the room was dark and the sheets around me were cold. Keaton must have been gone for awhile. I stretched, letting the sleep release my eyes. I stole a glance at the clock; it was nearly four in the morning. My feet hit the cold floor, sending a cascade of goose bumps across my skin. Keaton's shirt was still on the floor where it had fallen earlier. I slid it on, clasping the middle buttons closed.
I padded into the next room, half expecting to see him on the couch watching the 24 hour news channel, but the living room was empty, lights off, and everything was still. Then I noticed the s
oft glow coming from his office. I walked slowly down the hall and peered into the room. It was dim, lit only by the lamp and the laptop on his desk. But I could see him, cast in the soft glow, chest bare and head leaned back.
As my eyes focused in the dim light I could see him clearer. My heart began to thump erratically, my breath catching as it tried to exit my body as I watched him from across the room, oblivious to my presence, lost in his own moment. His teeth sunk into his lower lip and his hand moved low across his body as he gripped his length with slow steady strokes. I didn't want to speak, I was too mesmerized watching the way his hand moved and the way his face showcased the pleasure of his touch. It wasn’t the normal rush urging him to release, but like he was lost in something else.
The soft moan fell from my lips before I could stop it. Keaton lifted his head, his eyes finding mine and pinning me to my place in the doorway.
"Quinn." It was almost a growl, as if I'd invaded whatever fantasy was filling his head.
"I woke up alone," I said softly. He continued to touch himself and it had my insides turning in delicious circles.
"Come here."
I walked towards him slowly. It was as if I was being pulled. His eyes never left mine, they commanded me, they owned me.
I stood in front of him and his free hand slipped up my bare thigh. I heard a sultry breath escape him. "I was writing, thinking about you, writing about all of the things that I wanted to do to you." His voice was gravel and silk all at the same time. Its roughness left me feeling raw, while its caress turned me warm and aching.
"Take off the shirt," he growled. I swallowed hard as my fingers moved to the buttons, releasing them from their hold. I let the material slide from my shoulders and it fell to the floor leaving me completely naked before him as he watched me like a hungry animal.
"You're fucking beautiful, Quinn. Your skin needs to be touched. It needs to be tasted." His words came out low and slow, seducing me completely. His fingers traced my leg up from my knee and landing at the top of my legs where he ran his thumb across my sensitive flesh, brushing over my clit and sending fireworks through my body. He had barely touched me and I was already set to come unglued. I wasn't sure if I could stand much longer, now that his fingers were on me, moving over me in measured strokes, I was weak, my mind scattered as the pressure within my body began to build. He pressed soft kisses to my stomach, his tongue tracing a path to my hip where his teeth nipped. My body coiled with sensation. He pulled me closer to him, casting a slow sultry look up at me and I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a promise, I didn’t have time to decide before his mouth joined the wicked dance of his fingers and his tongue orchestrated a whole goddamned symphony. I felt my knees begin to buckle but he held me up, refusing to let me fall, never losing focus. I could hear the sounds as they tumbled from my lips, begging him for something, the ache inside intense. I gripped his shoulders for balance, tugged his hair in need and nearly cried as I felt him smile against me.
