Page 94 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

Once we’re in his Mustang, I turn in my seat to face him. “You paid for the limo?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? She just said you did.”

“Then why are you asking me if I did?” He pulls the car out of the driveway and heads down the street in the direction of my parents’ house.

“Aren’t we going to the police station?”

“You really need to go shower and change first.”

I look down at myself and realize I’m still in my clothes from last night. I pull down the sun visor and flip open the mirror. I yelp at my appearance and then cringe with embarrassment. I can’t even be offended by what he said because he’s right.

“Why did you pay for the limo?”

He never takes his eyes off the road as he speaks, “I suggested it, so I figured I’d pay for it.”

“Why?”

His tone becomes annoyed. “Stop asking me all these questions. Maybe you should consider being a lawyer or an investigator. You seem to love interrogations.”

I let out a humph and cross my arms. He lets out a low chuckle. Then a slow smirk spreads across his face. His voice turns husky as he speaks while grinning, “You seemed like you had a good time last night.”

“Seems so. Not that I remember all of it, but seems so.”

We’re silent the rest of the short drive. He pulls into the driveway to the guest house and turns the key. I slam my door shut in a childish move and stomp up the steps of the house. I unlock the door, and even though he’s following me, I slam that door shut behind me as well. I hear it pop against his hand as he stops it from shutting completely as I make my way into the bathroom.

After I’ve showered, I realize, in my haste, I didn’t grab any clothes. I wrap a towel as tightly around my frame as possible. I look down and groan at how short the towel is. I creak open the bathroom door and ease out.

“Are you finally re-” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He stands in the middle of the room staring at me. I straighten my shoulders, keeping hold of the towel, as I stare back. He clears his throat and finally casts his eyes away. “I guess not.”

I don’t move. I don’t know why I’m not moving, but my feet are glued to the floor. In a strained tone, he asks, “What are you waiting for? Get ready.”

Finally, his eyes turn back to me and roam slowly over every inch of me. I feel myself getting warm, and I like the way he looks at me. Sure, I’ve had guys look at me with lust, but Keaton’s eyes hold promises.

He shrugs his shoulders and asks, “Well?”

Before I can think it through, I shrug my shoulders and drop the towel. I stand before him completely nude in the broad daylight. Something I’ve never in my life done or would’ve thought I’d do.

In as much sass possible, I mimic, “Well?”

We stare at each other. My hair is still wet. Slowly, little cold beads of water trickle down my body. I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. I’m not sure if it’s from his penetrating stare, the water from my hair or the cool air, most likely, it’s a combination of all three.

Keaton takes one step toward me. I look at him through my lashes and try to control my breathing. He takes another step and then another. The anticipation of what he’ll do is thrilling, but also torturing. Unable to handle being so exposed, but not completely ready to back down, I cross my arms. To try to appear more defiant, I put on my best poker face. He takes the last step and is standing directly in front of me.

His voice comes out low and gravelly, as he whispers in disbelief, “Well?”

The tips of his fingers lightly touch my shoulders, moving down to my elbows, and then continues to my wrist. Once there, he wraps his hands around them, and then he uncrosses my arms, exposing me completely. I’m definitely losing my courage now. What in the hell was I thinking? I suddenly don’t feel so brave.

He leans in and kisses me. I forget about everything except him. There’s something about Keaton Sloan. There’s a connection. His hands roam my body, and I crave more of him. That seems to be how it always is with Keaton; I always hunger for more. He’s an addiction. And like an addict, I’m always wanting and craving more. His scent, taste and touch drive me into a frenzy. I swoon at the sight of him and melt at the sound of his voice. He’s become the center of my mind because he’s all I think about anymore. I’m too inexperienced for a man like him, but God help me, I want him. Drugs are dangerous and consuming, and Keaton Sloan is definitely my drug of choice. I feel his strong hands roam over me. They travel down my body, and I sigh.

“When I asked if you were ready, this isn’t what I meant, but I much rather prefer this.” He groans, and I gasp at his touch. “You’re ready, alright.”

“Yes.” I sigh and grab a fistful of his hair. “Yes,” I repeat.

He pulls back and demands I look at him. He searches my eyes. “I want to be clear on what’s going on, Denise.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what’s going on.” I make a point of indicating our bodies by looking between us.

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