Inarticulate (23 page)

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…”

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.

S
avannah
,

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

O
ne 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 refused 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.

“I didn’t realize you were so tired,” she whispered, creeping closer. “Did I steal your stamina, grandpa?”

His lips kicked, the tiniest grin announcing his consciousness. She’d learned to recognize his fake smiles, the ones he gave to placate strangers. But this was one of hers. He gave her patented grins and smirks. Ones exclusively made for her.

“Is it time for your nap?” She stopped in front of him and squealed when he leapt at her, pulling her down to be mercilessly tickled.

“Don’t!” She screamed and wiggled for her life. “Please!”

He ended the torture with a kiss, tangling their tongues, combing his hands through her hair. When he backed away, she whimpered, still unable to come to terms with never being sated. No matter how much he gave, she wanted more. More kisses, more affection, more attention. She didn’t think she would ever get enough. At least not in the weeks she had left.

“Is that all I get?” She pouted.

He guided her to straddle his thighs, his heavy-lidded eyes staring back at her. There was no lust, no carnality. He was devoid of energy.

“You
are
exhausted.” She cupped his cheeks, taking in his heavy breathing and pale skin. “Are you getting sick?”

He shook his head, the movement slow and unconvincing.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He reached for his cell on the armrest and typed with a smirk—
You’re killing me. I can’t keep up with you.

“Really?” She rocked slowly against his crotch, proving otherwise. “I don’t think all of you agrees.”

He gave a breath of a chuckle and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the sofa.

“Keenan?”

Something was wrong. A slowly building throb of guilt started to take over her chest. She should’ve been paying more attention. She should’ve noticed sooner. He’d been less energetic for days. Their nights had begun ending earlier, the mornings starting later. She’d vaguely laughed at the idea that his fatigue may be a case of too much horizontal exercise and not enough sleep. But this was more than that.

He wrapped his arms around her and continued to rest.

“Would you tell me if something was wrong?”

His eyes opened and a lack of reassurance stared back at her, the same wariness she’d come to expect when she pried.

He shook his head. “
Nothing is wrong
.” He brushed the stray hair behind her ear and smiled. “
Tired
.”

He was lying. Placating her.

She knew better than to fight for answers. He never caved to her determination. He only ever told her what he wanted her to know. Even though these moments had begun to fade, it was that stubborn secrecy that had made her cling tight to the words her heart wanted to give to him. Three little words she’d never spoken because she wouldn’t release her last shield against vulnerability if he wouldn’t either.

But she could give him something. A tiny piece of her that nobody else had. “You know, I never thought I’d care about a man, the way I do for you.”

His eyes softened, the tiniest spark of understanding gleaming back at her.

“My father left when I was a teenager. For me, it was out of the blue. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t even know there was a problem in my parents’ marriage. He just left. One day he was my father, the next he wasn’t. He never called. Didn’t write…” A gentle hand swept her hair behind her ear, comforting the memories she usually chose to ignore. “I didn’t think it affected me much. I was leaving school at the time and starting my career. I kept myself busy and pretended it was a part of growing up.”

But it wasn’t normal, and it had affected her. How else could she explain the lack of love in her life? She’d broken contact with Dominic, wasted time on relationships she knew had no future, and cocooned herself in a safe existence.

“I’ve never had this.” She waved a lazy hand between them. “I’ve never felt like this.”

“
Me, too
,” he mouthed.

Her heart squeezed at the sincerity focused back on her. It was true. He did feel the same way, just maybe not enough to divulge whatever was hiding in his eyes. She sat there, taking in his motionless affection, his silent appreciation. Waiting. Hoping.

There was another wistful swipe of his finger through her hair. A brush of his thumb along her cheek. He bathed her in adoration and continued to leave her starved for his secrets.

“Let’s go home.” She placed a gentle kiss on his lips and scooted backward to stand on the floor. He wasn’t ready yet, and that was okay. She could deal. At this point, she had no choice because leaving him wasn’t an option. “You can sleep while I drive.”

H
e did
. Keenan dozed the entire way home while she watched the snow slowly dwindle the further she drove toward Seattle. She wanted to mother him, to escort him to bed, wrap him in blankets and figure out how the hell to make chicken noodle soup.

Only smothering him would give him more control. She needed to do the opposite to remind him of her impending farewell.

“We’re here.” Her words were soft, slowly lulling him into the land of the living.

She opened the gates with the spare remote he’d given her, and drove to the front of his house. Her sternum ached as she cut the engine and met him at the back of the car.

He reached for her luggage, and she placed a hand on top of the suitcase to stay him. “Leave mine there.”

He raised a brow, not releasing the handle.

“I’ve been monopolizing your time for weeks. You need a break to recharge.”

He shook his head and began lifting the case.

“Yes.” This time she pressed down harder, and one by one lifted his fingers from the handle. “You’re unwell.”

“
No.
”

“No?” She closed the trunk, well aware she’d almost taken off his hand in the process. “Then what is it?”

His narrowed gaze returned, the fast snap of something defensive falling between them. Everything had been smooth since Thanksgiving. Too smooth. Too choreographed to perfection. Keenan had helped her to find staff to fill the vacant positions. Penny had become a fading memory within the Rydel building. She’d even told Spencer she’d met someone, and he hadn’t lost his mind, only his control over profanity for a few minutes.

A future with Keenan was within her grasp. They were a breath away from together forever. The only thing stopping her from searching local employment opportunities and instigating a permanent relocation plan was that look. That painful knowledge that he hadn’t given his all to her yet.

“Forget it.” She didn’t want to cause a fight. “I know you have things you don’t want to tell…” It was a push, a provocation.

He pulled out his cell, typed—
You mean everything to me, Savannah

Her heart clenched, practically initiating a cardiac event.

“Then trust me.”

He grabbed her wrist, his expression screaming for understanding. “
I will
.”

“Just not today, right?”

He winced.

“It’s okay.” She soothed the discomfort between them with a soft smile. “I know you’re not ready to share everything with me. I can wait.” At least a few more weeks, anyway. The days left to discuss the future were dwindling. She didn’t want to force his secrets from him with an ultimatum, but she also wouldn’t start uprooting her San Francisco life if she didn’t have all of him.

“Text or video call me before you go to bed.” She kissed his cheek and backtracked. “Make sure you rest.”

He stepped away from the car, his arms crossed over his chest and a petulant frown marring his brow. A little extra distance would be good for them. It would also be her first opportunity to start Christmas shopping.

“Don’t be grumpy.” She opened her driver’s door and gave a sneaky smile even though she didn’t want to leave. “As soon as you’re full of energy, I plan on stealing it away again.”