Page 45 of Keep Me

So Sylvie chimes in. “He’s the one who struggles to keep up with me.” A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, and I bite my tongue.

“It’s the age,” Theresa replies playfully. “Once they hit thirty-five, they lose their stamina.”

“Hey!” Nick complains.

“My stamina is just fine,” I reply heartily. “Tell them.” I glance expectantly at Sylvie.

Everyone looks at her too.

After a moment, she shrugs. “His stamina is just fine.”

“How many times a day are you two fucking? Living alone here at this manor, I bet it’s like five times a day.”

Sylvie’s throat moves as she swallows.

“What is it now, darling?” I ask, drawing her attention. “Three times a day?”

“At least,” she replies with a challenge in her expression.

“Your new wife must know everything about you, Killian,” Emma says, with a drunken slur in her voice. “That you have some wild and kinky tastes.”

My skin grows hot as I stare at Sylvie to gauge her reaction. There isn’t much of one.

It’s funny to think she knows nothing of my sex life at all, and I know nothing of hers. People around this table would be shocked to know that. They’re already imagining us fucking in ten different positions in every room of this house.

“Well, does she?” Claire asks, holding her glass of wine in her delicate fingers.

I freeze as my gaze settles on her face. She wouldn’t…

“Let’s just say…” Sylvie says, filling the awkward silence. “Don’t go snooping through drawers or under the beds.”

Everyone laughs, and my head tilts as I stare at her across the table. It almost felt as if she was covering for me, and I don’t understand why.

***

After dinner, the party spills into the parlor. It’s darker than last night, and Liam has figured out how to work the speaker system. Music blasts through the built-ins. After the very first beat drop from some twenty-year-old song from our younger days, people start dancing.

I’m not drunk enough. I wish I was drunker. I keep going for the whisky, but something is stopping me. I can’t stop watching Sylvie.

“Come on, Killian,” Emma whines as she tugs on my arm. “Let’s dance.”

She drags me into the middle of the room.

“Dance with your husband,” I reply with a lighthearted laugh.

“Boring,” she drawls.

I don’t really want to dance. I feel too old for this shit. It’s songs from my younger days, but I don’t feel like that man anymore. It’s not a fun time to relive.

But I play along, letting her grind against me as another random mismatched couple starts to dance behind us.

I can already tell this will be trouble before long. Everyone is too drunk.

Wait. What the fuck am I saying? I love parties like this. I love nights that go off the rails. I want the mistakes and the sex and regrets and the fun and the reckless abandon.

Suddenly, I feel myself leaning into it. This is what I want.

Going to the bar, I crack open a new bottle and pour my glass with far too much. By the time I turn around, I notice Liam is sitting next to Sylvie. He’s touching her arm.

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