Page 46 of Keep Me

So far, she’s giving him the cold front of greetings, but when he says something to make her laugh, she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and actually blushes.

I’m suddenly dying to know what he said.

Instead, I throw back another glass of whisky, waiting for the alcohol to numb my system.

Another song on the makeshift dance floor.

Another full glass emptied.

Then, another.

And another.

The room is starting to soften into shades of blue. It’s dark and hazy, but the alcohol isn’t kicking in as much as I’d like. It’s like I can still see too much too clearly.

Everyone around me is obviously wasted.

I’m dancing with someone. Her fingers are under my shirt, and she’s laughing. I glance over her head to see Theresa on Angus’s lap, and I know in the back of my mind that image is wrong. She’s Nick’s girl.

Two years ago, it wouldn’t have been wrong at all. This is what we did. We blurred all the lines and we fucked without abandon. We were wild and untamed.

But I’ve changed. This party wasn’t supposed to end this way.

Where is Sylvie?

I pull away from the woman with her hands up my shirt and stumble out of the room. The hallway feels long, and I stare down it toward the staircase on the opposite end. A feeling of dread crawls up my spine.

Are Sylvie and Liam up there?

That’s what I want.

But I don’t.

These feelings war inside me, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to tear them apart.

I stumble down the hall toward the stairs just to see for myself. I make it about two steps before another pair of soft hands wrap around my waist.

Sylvie.

“Come here,” she whispers softly, tugging me into a dark room. It’s a storage closet, but before I can argue, she’s pulling my mouth down to hers, kissing me with passion and need.

I surrender to the kiss, letting the intensity sweep me out to sea. Her lips feel so good, and I’m so focused on the fact that she’s supposed to be somewhere with Liam, but she’s not. She’s here with me.

Fuck, that’s not what I want. But I can’t seem to stop it.

“God, please touch me. I need you,” she whimpers into my mouth. It sounds wrong.

But I’m too drunk to stop it.

Her hand takes mine, and she drags it between her legs, shoving my fingers against the moist center of her panties. She’s so wet for me, I let out a growl when I feel it.

I don’t understand these feelings for Sylvie. This hate-fueled desire. This need to own her, dominate her, force her to submit,make her mine. I don’t want her. I don’t care about her. I justneedher.

My cock is rock hard behind my slacks at the thought. It’s never felt so full of life before, a fire blazing in my groin at the idea of fucking my headstrong, stubborn wife into submission.

Before I know what I’m doing, my finger is inside her. She’s clinging to my arm, moaning and whimpering. And suddenly, I realize that this is all too easy.

Something is missing.

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