Page 139 of The Keeper

“No. You can leave it up.” I handed the phone back and added, “Does this make us official?”

“Officially what?” he smirked.

“Internet friends.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Standing like this near the bar reminded me of our encounter at Black Rose. Running into him that night had been a pleasant surprise. Flirting with him was even more fun. And now here he was, sitting in front of me.

Should I?

“So, Xavier is it?” I asked, peering up at him from under my lashes.

Confusion washed over his face briefly. Then a sinful smile pulled at his mouth. “Depends on who’s asking.”

I looked around to see if anyone was actually walking over. Even here in New York, he had his admirers. They were quite vocal at the stadium and since we’re in a crowded bar, anyone could be here.

“There’s no brunette coming up to me this time.” Xavier’s low, clipped tone hit all my hot buttons. His pupils dilated.

“Must be hard for your fragile ego to deal with the lack of attention.”

“Nothing about me is fragile.”

My lips parted slightly. I know I was blushing. I felt the heat building beneath my skin.

“Would you like to continue?” he asked.

Trembling beneath his hungry stare I answered, “Green.”

The change in his demeanor was instantaneous. My heart raced.

I leaned closer, resting one hand on his thigh and using the other to tug down the neckline of his shirt so I could see his inked skin.

“Nice tattoo.” I traced my nail along the base of his throat.

“I have more.”

Both his hands cupped my backside and squeezed, pulling me flush against him. I was close enough to kiss him. Close enough to feel his warm breath on my mouth. Close enough to see how drunk with lust I made him.

“I bet you do.” I nipped at his lower lip. “You should show me all your tattoos. Right now.”

He fisted my hair with such force I whimpered. Tilting my head, he took my mouth, plunging his tongue in, claiming and owning me.

I curled my tongue to taste along his upper lip. Whisky and him. I moaned, licking deeper into his mouth, tasting more of him.

He tugged on my hair to the point of pain, pulling my head back. His breath tickled my ear when he asked, “Are you wet, dirty princess?”

I nodded, finding the outline of his erection through his jeans. Instead of stroking it, I traced around his length, then pushed my palm down to his inner thigh, teasing him, putting pressure there and squeezing.

“Careful,” he moaned. “What makes you think I’m this kind of guy?”

“What kind of guy is that?” I held his fervent stare. This place was almost filled to capacity. We were tucked in a corner by the bar. Not quite secluded but not fully exposed to other people. They’d really have to stare to see what we were doing over here.

“You tell me.” He repositioned his body a little so my hand was hidden. “Are you okay to continue?”

“Green.”

The dark expression I love so much washed across his face. “I’m all yours.”

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