Page 46 of Inarticulate

Soon, he would pounce. He would dash after her, making her scream, making her squirm. His lips kicked, plaguing her with painful arrhythmia. She didn’t like anticipation, not when it came from a confident man like Keenan. No. She loved it. She thrived on it. She wanted to breathe deep of his cockiness and never forget how it made her feel.

A clatter of sound came from behind her, and Keenan’s attention darted to the penthouse. She froze, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting in a wave of panic. He was focused on something, or someone, and she chanced a glance over her shoulder to see two people inside.

Oh, shit.Her gaze cut to Keenan and he held up a hand to calm her, casual yet authoritative. She shot another look inside, taking in details. The two men were dressed in a uniform. Hotel staff. Room service. They were laying out plates along the dining table.

Keenan approached. One of his hands wove around her waist, the other gripped her jaw and brought her face back to meet his. There was understanding in his eyes, a steely determination that said he knew she was petrified and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

“If I’m caught here—”

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, careful and delicate. Each sweep was a placation, every swipe of his tongue told her that he would protect her. When they broke apart, she chanced another glance over her shoulder, to find the main area of the penthouse abandoned.

“They’re gone?” She turned back to those gorgeous eyes and measured her relieved sigh when he nodded. “Good.” Now she could breathe.

Almost.

His lips took command again, sweeping her up in relief and morphing it into lust. A rough palm grazed down her back, underneath her waistband and around her bottom. She stiffened, knowing it wasn’t right, not when they were outside, exposed. But it was a battle her common sense couldn’t win. She was defeated by hunger, unable to think straight through her unquenchable appetite.

She whimpered, clinging to his shoulders to gain control. “We need to go inside.”

He walked her backward and leaned her into the pool wall. His touch descended, that naughty hand in her panties reaching further to brush right where she wanted him to.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the rush of blood that drained from her face and settled between her thighs. His stubble grazed her jaw, his lips skimmed her neck. He inched closer, chest to chest, and his fingertips breached her entrance, the teasing, torturous touch increasing her desire and frustration in equal measure.

“How do you do it?” she whispered. “How do you continue to wordlessly convince me to do things I know I shouldn’t be doing?”

She ground into him, her clit against his erection. His fingers sank deeper, twisting, pulsing. She gasped, over and over, her nails digging into his skin. His other hand skimmed the curve of her breast. He lifted the cup of her bra, molding the flesh in his hand, and tweaked her nipple with his thumb.

She’d been born for this moment. The world existed for the pleasure he gave her. There was no rhyme or reason… Well, the reason was his deliriously good looks and skilled hands. But what she felt for him went above and beyond that. There was so much emotion building inside her.

“What are you doing to me?” she whispered.

Her core clamped down on his fingers and she froze as her orgasm hit. She mewled into his neck, losing the battle to remain quiet, and sank her teeth into his flesh.

She wasthatwoman now. The one who put sensation before sanity. The one who thought with her body instead of her mind. He’d rewired her circuits and transformed her into someone unrecognizable.

And she couldn’t think of one good reason to ever return to normal.

Chapter Sixteen

Keenan pushed from the pool, a wave of water seeping over his flawless skin. He reached for his pants, pulled something from his pocket, and then turned to face her with a dictating finger pointed her way. “Wait.”

Savannah bristled at the command and shuddered at the same time. She watched his sexy, naked ass disappear into the opulence of the penthouse. Moments later he returned draped in a fluffy white robe with another hanging over his forearm. He crooked a finger at her. Another silent command. She was losing her sanity to those gestures.

It was the demand, the silent mandate that sang to her.

She wanted to disobey him, to refuse his request and see his reaction. But not this time. She was too addicted to his look of approval, the tiny gleam in his eye that spoke of satisfaction.

She swam to the edge of the pool and he leaned over to offer her a hand, pulling her from the water. His appreciative gaze raked the full length of her as they came face to face. Even in the harshest winter, that look would’ve burned.

He placed the robe around her, engulfing her in the thickest, softest material known to man before placing a hand on the low of her back to urge her inside.

“What about my underwear?” She glanced back at the water and spied the two pieces of clothing now seated at the bottom of the pool.

He responded with a firm press of his hand. There would be no going back. Not tonight.

“I guess I’ll scoop them out later.” She followed him to the doors, the soles of her feet stinging from the chill, and stepped into bliss. The air inside was warm with the heavenly aroma of mouth-watering food. Shiny, silver domes were scattered over the coffee table. At least eight of them of varying sizes. The placement was strategic. Where the meals could’ve been shared on the large expanse of the dining table, they’d instead been seated in front of the intimacy of the sofa.

There was even a silver bucket holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

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