Page 42 of Inarticulate

“Stop it.” Savannah slid in front of him and placed her palm on his sternum. “Ignore him.” He didn’t quit glaring over her shoulder. “Please, Keenan. You don’t need to prove yourself to him.”

“Yeah, Keenan,” the man mocked. “You don’t need to prove yourself.”

The asshole had no idea what he was up against. Couldn’t he see the threat of violence in Keenan’s eyes? God knew she couldn’t ignore it.

“Keenan?” She nudged his chest again. “Look at me.”

His jaw ticked, the vein in his neck pulsed, and long seconds flittered by before his focus met hers, steely and determined. The man scoffed from behind her, his presence leaving moments later.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she murmured and cupped his cheek. “You’re better than him.” It was the truth. If anything, it was an understatement. But he grunted anyway and glared into the distance.

She could see the damage to his pride. The destruction was like a flare in the night, a brutal wound on otherwise unmarred skin. He couldn’t handle assaults aimed toward his lack of speech. He may have mastered the skill to silently communicate, but his ability to reject insults was non-existent.

“Let’s get out of here.” Her tone held delicious meaning, only he didn’t reciprocate the desire. “Please, Keenan.”

His lower jaw flexed under her palm and his harsh inhalations pained her. She reached on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his, feeling nothing but the sterile rigidity of his mouth. It was useless. She couldn’t soothe him.

She fell back on her heels. “We should call it a night.”

Wrath was drowning the beauty of his irises. He gripped her chin, making her gasp as he held her in place.

She knew what he wanted. She could see it in his eyes. He needed to be in control of something. Anything. He needed to feel like he mattered. And he did. He already mattered so much to her.

He plastered his mouth against hers, painfully hard, and swept his tongue into her mouth. There was no sweetness shared, only anger, and she liked it. She enjoyed being the one to take his ire.

She could take a whole lot more, too.

He yanked his head back, panting, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“I love when you do that.”

He frowned in question.

“You hold me, controlling me like you think I’m going to flee.” She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless that’s what you want.” She’d made up her mind. There were still weeks until she left Seattle, and she wanted to spend them with him.

“I’m yours to do with what you will until I fly home.”

She couldn’t read the message in his eyes. Right now she couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. He released her chin, his hand falling down between them to grip her wrist. He strode away, leading her along the sidewalk, not once stopping to glance over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

From his profile, she could see a sinister grin. That was her only answer—devilish focus.

He tugged her around corners, down an alley, and onto another street. She was glad she wore her flats, otherwise her feet wouldn’t have made the distance.

He pulled her to the left, down a wide pathway before a menacing tower. Her attention raked over the mass of gleaming windows toward the twinkling sign above the front doors.

Grandiosity.

“Oh, no.” She shuddered at the egotistical phallus symbol. An elaborate chandelier glistened in the foyer, the bright twinkle almost blinding. Everything was shiny, refined, and pretentious.

“Are they overcompensating for much?” she drawled.

Keenan’s gaze landed on her, and she met his raised brow.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your employer.”

His brow raised higher.

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