Page 48 of Inarticulate

His focus was riveted on her, more forceful than the throbbing cock nestled at her entrance. There was no voice, no sound, yet boundless communication flittered between them. They weren’t limited because of his lack of speech. They weren’t inhibited at all.

She could see his lust in the clench of his jaw and the narrowed savagery in his eyes. Emotion flowed from him in waves as he sank into her in a violent plunge, so deep the skin on her arms shivered.

The sex was a blur, an emotionally drunk collision of delirium and euphoria. They were animalistic in their carnality. She clawed and bit and licked. He tugged and squeezed and growled. For the first time, sex was a sparring match. They battled for supremacy, pushing and tugging, teasing and tormenting as they rolled from one side of the bed to the other.

“You’re killing me.” Her legs were burning from fatigue, her lungs struggling under the need for oxygen.

He slowed his rhythmic grind beneath her, his hands becoming gentle on her hips. He completely obliterated their fast tempo, replacing it with something smooth and romantic.

The fight became too much. She grew overwhelmed in the confusion of how perfect they were. How undeniably matched they seemed in the bedroom. It had to be a dream.

She closed her eyes and ground her hips, making the undulations longer, grating her clit over his pubic bone. She straightened and cupped her breasts, tiny whimpers escaping her lips as she became lost to sensation. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t affected by him. There wasn’t a thought, or a nerve, or a heartbeat that didn’t comply with the delicious feel of this man.

When she opened her eyes, she froze. Keenan was staring at her. No, not merely staring, he was in awe, his lips slightly parted, his attention riveted. He mouthed something, maybe it wasbeautiful, maybe it wasn’t. But the affection reflected in his eyes made her pussy pulse with a new wave of tingles.

She kept one hand on her breast and moved the other to his chest as she rode him harder. She continued to melt into the sea of dark gray and crashed under the waves of his scrutiny as her core clamped down and began to spasm.

A gasp parted her lips with the first pulse of orgasm. Then another and another.

He matched her, his gyrations becoming harder as he jerked into her, each time becoming harsher than the last. She watched him come undone, and the sight was exhilarating. Such a strong, confident man at his most vulnerable.

She’d never forget that sight. Not tomorrow, and definitely not once she left Seattle.

“You’re not going to get a thank you this time.” She quirked her brows and tumbled to lie beside him. “You’ve completely obliterated my focus.” She rested a hand over her eyes and breathed deep to slow the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

His hand came to rest on her side, his touch a delicate balm. He twirled his fingers over her flesh, back and forth, up and down. She could’ve almost fallen asleep at the perfection of his attention, until he broke the silence with a harsh clearing of his throat.

Her eyes snapped open as she lowered her arm to look at him.Shit.He’d been trying to get her attention. “Sorry.”

He pinched his fingers together and bobbed them toward his mouth. “Hungry?”

She shook her head and sank into the pillows. “Sleepy.”

He smirked, the twitch of his lips announcing he was proud to cause her exhaustion.

“Go on.” She shooed him with a lazy wave of her hand and relaxed into the coverings. “Eat.”

She nestled her face into the pillow to hide her look of smitten devastation. He was under her skin in a big way and she couldn’t even tell anyone about it. Not Dominic, who wouldn’t approve. Not Penny, who would start sharpening her knife collection. And definitely not her mother. who would immediately call Aunt Michelle to gossip.

She was on her own with this, and her body didn’t mind one little bit.

Chapter Seventeen

Savannah woke up alone, again, this time surrounded by decadence and cocooned in silence. The heavy curtains were drawn together and barely a slice of morning light was seeping through.

“Keenan?” She clutched the sheet to her naked chest and sat up. He wasn’t here. There was no movement in the expanse of the penthouse. No rustle of sound. No clink of cutlery.

She flung back the covers and swiveled to place her feet on the thick pile carpet. Her concentration narrowed to a piece of folded paper on the bedside table, her name barely visible on the front due to the dim light. She flicked on the lamp and lunged for the note with starvation. She couldn’t get enough of him, not after a night of sex and not after weeks of his dreamy stare in her mind.

She flipped open the paper and devoured the note word for word—I have commitments tonight, but I want to see you on Friday.

A smile tugged at her lips as she refolded the page. Tomorrow seemed an eternity away, but she’d take it. She’d take any sliver of his time, especially if it involved leaving her body in this same dreamy, lethargic state. She could barely clench her thighs. Each muscle ached in a different way—her arms, her legs—even her back felt different.

She stood, stretched, and noticed her clothes piled on the end of his side of the bed. He’d placed them there neatly, one sitting on top of the other, perfectly folded. She wished he would’ve stayed, or at least woken her. Her skin was sticky from sweat and the lingering hint of chocolate. They could’ve showered together. He could’ve scrubbed her clean. Instead, she’d have to do it on her own, letting the shower wash away parts of him that she wasn’t ready to lose.

Blinking her dreary eyes, she dragged her feet to the end of the bed. She was still half asleep, her mind in a blissful plane, until the red numbers of the alarm clock beamed at her from Keenan’s bedside table.

She blinked harder. Faster. Again and again.

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