Page 6 of Kept

“No, it’s okay.” Honestly, I was overreacting. This was the guy who’d pushed me to go for library science in the first place. “We took the one down on Spruce Drive. It's kind of tucked away, off the beaten path, but Mom likes the quiet down there.”

“341,” he said, nodding. He was still leaning forward in his chair… and I almost choked on my sip when warm fingers brushed my knee. “You’re pretty much out in the boondocks.”

There was something much colder and harder in Rhett’s expression than I thought a conversation about a cottage really warranted. “I suppose, but as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“Do you keep your doors locked?” His thumb slipped against the inside of my knee and pressed down into the flesh, holding me pinned in place. Amazing how one digit, two phalanges, could hold my entire being in an electrical stasis.

“Of course we do,” I breathed. Even with the shivers in my legs and the heat of his skin against mine, my stomach clenched into a tiny ball. I had the feeling I’d severely underestimated the purpose of Rhett’s need to talk to me. “Why do you need to know these things?”

Pale blue cut right through me. “Just looking out for you, Jane. When I was your tutor, you always forgot to lock the doors. I just walked right into your house.”

Forming coherent thoughts was much harder than it should’ve been. “I assure you I’ve developed better habits since I was a teen.”

Rhett smiled again, his thumb eased up, and the tension broke. He poured more wine in my glass, even though I was quite sure my lips were stained purple and I was well on my way to being drunk.

“We’ve had incidences around here of the wrong person ending up in the wrong cottage,” he said easily, sliding the now-empty wine bottle across the table. “We tend to be wary. I don’t want to get a call at 3 a.m. that there’s a stranger in your house.”

“Why would I be calling you?” I asked. I really should stop drinking. The entire tone of the conversation was off-kilter.

He slid his hand along the outer edges of my thighs. My body went stiff, like I’d been struck with a livewire, and his hands stopped at my hips. He pulled my small cell phone out of my pocket and handed it to me. “Unlock it.”

The tiny phone seemed much heavier than it ever had before. I stared down at the black screen, and Rhett’s fingers trailed back down over my thighs.

I put in my code and the screen lit up. He plucked it from my hands and stared down at it for a moment. Looking at the picture of Mom and I that I used as wallpaper? She was still wearing crazy-colored wigs after her chemo, her skin papery and limbs too thin, but we’d been grinning widely against the backdrop of the Liedsen Botanical Gardens back home.

He clicked a few more times, typed something, then placed it on the table. “There. Now you can call me at any time you want.”

Thank god for alcohol to settle my nerves, because I wasthis closeto losing my shit. Rhett Harlow’s hands were on my thighs and his number was in my phone.

“Thank you.” My voice came out as a raspy squeak.

He pulled his hands all the way back down to my knees… and then pushed inwards, sliding the fabric of my dress over his hands. Heat flared low in my stomach, even as my spine straightened.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, his deep voice edging towards a growl. “Just do what I tell you and lock your doors. You have my number, Jane. Call me whenever you need.”

His palms rested against the inside of my knees like burning brands. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Whenever?”

“Any time, day or night.” His palms glided forward an inch and my stomach flipped.

“For anything.” I felt the wild, irresistible urge to defuse the situation with absurdity, given how I felt like I’d taken the wrong door into the school and walked into a magical land instead. In no world should Rhett Harlow be giving me his number. “What if… I need help feeding the cat?”

“Call me.”

“I don’t actually have a cat. Taking out the trash?”

“Call.”

“Drying my hair?”

“Only if you’re naked.” His tongue darted out and ran over his lower lip, there and gone in a flash.

I exhaled slowly, feeling more than a little like I’d been punched in the gut. “Very funny joke, Rhett.”

“Who said I was joking?” He gently pushed against my thighs and they parted like my body was malleable putty in his hands. “I always thought you were smart as hell, Jane. Are these the actions of a flippant man?”

Now he wasn’t toying with those light touches and teases. He rubbed his way up my legs, thumbs gliding beneath until he came to the apex of my legs. His thumbs glided upwards over my soft inner thighs, finding the lacy edge of my panties and tracing that too-thin barrier.

“No,” I whispered. The entire world had gone crazy. That was the only explanation for this. Either that, or one of the books had been infected with a mold spore that had hijacked my brain while I was sniffing pages and I’d hallucinated this entire day.

---