Page 58 of The Keeper

“Xavier,” she whispered, “why did you stop?”

“Do you want more?” My voice went dark again. Intense. The question came out more like a warning.

“Yes.”

“How much more?”

“All of it.”

Three simple words stirred up the old me. The me whose reputation was well known at Bennet’s parties for a certain type of experience in and out of the bedroom. The me I’d buried years ago.

I pulled her close, biting down on her plump lower lip. Hard. Harder than I have before. Hard enough to leave a mark. Hard enough for her to grunt against it in shock but not stop it. When I pulled back, her dark, hooded eyes seared me. Eyes that still wanted more. I looked at her swollen, marked lip and dipped my head to lick and gently kiss the pain away.

“Is that what you wanted?”

Her satisfied smile sent a bolt of lust through me. “Yes.”

There is nothing sexier than a smart, independent woman willing to surrender to her desires. Willing to trust me with them. I kissed her again, pulling her as close to me as I could, feeling as much of her as this damn backseat would allow.

“Five minutes,” I whispered. “Just five more minutes.”

She nestled into my side, resting her head on my shoulder. Her chest rose and fell on a contented sigh. I pulled out my phone and texted Bennet. No need for the lads to wait around for no reason.

Another sigh. God, she was all softness and warmth. My head dropped to hers and I inhaled the scent of her shampoo. Warm and sensual, just like her.

We arrived at my place not a minute too soon. I watched her curvy body as she moved through the townhouse. So graceful and elegant and alluring. I followed her into the living room toward the windows.

“That’s quite a view,” she murmured.

“It is.”

She turned. “Did you mean me?”

Everything in me ignited. Yes, obviously. The specific view in my mind consisted of Victoria down on her knees, staring up at me with those big green eyes. I didn’t say that to her. Instead, I said, “Please have a seat on the ottoman by the chair. I’ll be right over.”

A pink flush stained her cheeks since I’d said it in that voice. She eyed me with interest while she walked to where I’d directed her. I purposely watched her, waiting until she was seated before I went to the sideboard and grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

I was improvising.

Okay, I was stalling because if I didn’t occupy myself with getting drinks I’d already have her bent over the couch with my cock buried deep inside her.

After I poured the scotch, I brought the glasses over. She looked up at me when I handed her the drink.

“Such a gentleman.”

I rolled my eyes and sat in the chair, which was a touch higher than the ottoman. And since she’s astute, she repositioned herself to sit on her knees and lean back on her heels, giving her more leverage. I fucking loved it.

“How does it feel to be back in the lion’s den?” I asked, taking a long swallow of scotch.

“It feels like you might need a lion tamer,” she sassed back.

“Is that what you want? To tame me?” I stroked my lip. “And how will you do it?”

She cast her eyes down, parting her lips to suck in a breath. The swell of her breasts pushed against the clingy blue material of her dress. Watching all the different ways her body reacted to me was an aphrodisiac. When she looked up at me again through her lashes, her pupils were so dilated I could barely see any green.

“You won’t do it by looking at me with your fuck me eyes,” I growled, taking her glass and placing it on the table next to me. I put mine there as well.

“I don’t want to tame you.” Her voice was low and husky and undeniably sexy.

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