Page 95 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I want to be clear on us. Are we together?”

I stiffen. Since when does a guy put on the brakes before sex to discuss the relationship status? I especially didn’t expect it from a guy like Keaton.

“Do you want to be with me?” I hate that my voice trembles as I ask the question.

“God, yes.” He holds me tighter. “I’ve been aching for you for years. I still can’t believe we’ve kissed.”

“Stop it. You could have anyone.”

His face is completely serious. “No. I can’t have anyone. Ever since I laid eyes on you again, you’re all I see. My mind won’t allow there to be anyone else because I only think and dream about you. My heart could never belong to anyone else.” He traces my lips with his thumb. He leans his forehead against mine. “Not after you.”

I’m speechless. What can I say after that? I smirk and bite my bottom lip.

He kisses my forehead and gives a short breathless laugh. “I can’t believe it.”

I wrap a hand around his neck, bringing him closer to me, and I whisper against his lips, “Keep kissing me until you believe it.”

He gently places his lips on mine. I pull him closer, hold him tighter. He seems as insecure as me. This brilliant and bold man seems almost bashful and unsure. It’s absurd, yet refreshing.

Our moment is ruined when his phone rings. “Ugh, that’s probably the guy at the station.” He pulls back and groans. He slaps my rear and tells me to get dressed. As I grab the towel from the floor and wrap it around me, I hear him speak into his phone, telling his friend we’re coming.

Once I’m dressed, I hurry and apply a little makeup. I braid my damp hair and spray on a little perfume. I walk out of the room, unsure how to act. My struggle must be written all over my face because Keaton begins to chuckle. He holds out his hand, and I accept it.

He pulls me into a hug and says into my hair, “Stop. Just stop. You’re overthinking. You stressed that this is a serious problem you suffer from.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I take it you don’t remember that part of last night? Have you checked your phone by any chance?”

“No,” I answer in remorse.

“We need to go, but you might want to. Wait until after the police station.”

There’s no way I’ll be able to wait. As soon as I’m buckled in the Mustang, I pull my phone out. No missed texts or calls. That gives me hope. I open my text messages. And all hope is lost. I read my messages from last night.

No…

No.

NO!

I flop my head back on the headrest. After a few seconds of catching my breath, I look back at my phone. I pray that this time when I open my messages from last night they won’t be there. ThatI simply imagined it. I tap my finger on the screen and feel bile rise in my throat. I didn’t imagine it. There are roughly twenty text messages sent between me and Keaton. Mostly from me. I groan as I quickly scan the messages. Mostly from me confessing my attraction to him and feeling slighted that he hasn’t sleptwith me.

9:02 PM

Me: Any news?

Keaton: He’s not talking.

Me: Of course not.

10:30 PM

Me: Let me tell U a lil’ Secret. I wld totes get kinky w/ U. ;)

10:35 PM

Me: U CALLED TRENT!!!!!

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