Page 80 of Inarticulate

His brows furrowed, his pain evident as he palmed her cheeks and held her captive. He leaned into her, his thighs pressing against her while those beautiful lips approached.

She didn’t want his kiss. She wanted answers. Yet the silken sweep of his mouth told her everything she yearned for. The brief, barely there brush of exquisite softness curled her toes and doused her in sensation. He stoked a warmth inside her, the delicate caress of his affection burning hotter than lust ever could.

She placed her cell on the car hood and gripped his wrists. He was ice, his skin chilled at an unhealthy level. “You’re freezing.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t confirm or deny.

“You should take me back to the hotel.”

“No.” He shook his head and parted her legs with his knee, sending the first clenching pulse of desire to her core.

“Spencer will be looking for me.”

A flash of possession narrowed his eyes. She waited for his anger and received a brutal smashing of his lips instead, his mouth taking hers in a victorious assault. His palms left her face, one arm moving to encase her waist while the other hand tangled in the mess of her ponytail. He stroked her tongue in harsh lashings and brought them chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, every inch of her being paid homage by the brush of his body.

She clung to his shoulders and whimpered, but the connection was dizzying. It made the world disappear and her troubles vanish. She wasn’t thinking. Only feeling. And that was a dangerous position if their past was any indication.

“Stop.” She shoved at him and fought a cry as he retreated. “I can’t do this. I’m not sleeping with you.”

He glared at the ground, as if it took an enormous strength of will to pull himself together. His head tilted, slowly, showing the briefest acknowledgement of her request.

“Please take me home. I need to pass out.”

He retrieved his cell from his pants pocket and typed—Then stay here.He typed again.Stay with me.

“No,” she chuckled and gave another shove to his chest, only to have her wrist engulfed by his grip. Her humor faded as his seriousness bore into her, pleading with her. “Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t be nice when nothing good can come from this.”

He leaned in, almost nose to nose. “Stay.”

“Keenan…”

“Stay.”

She tangled her fingers in his shirt and shivered at the chill emanating off him. He wasn’t giving her an option, she knew that. He was laying down the first layer of his attack, hoping she’d take the path of least resistance so their battle of wills didn’t escalate to the next level.

Her ragged breaths panted between them, her need to fight not as prominent as it should be. The truth was, she wanted him. She wantedthis, whatever the hell it may be. She just didn’t want to be blindsided again.

“Please don’t make me regret this.”

He brushed the stray strands of hair from her face and nodded with solemn conviction. “I won’t.”

But it was too late. She grabbed her cell, already regretting the heavenly way he entwined their fingers and the first step they made toward his house, because with that brief movement, she said goodbye to her heart and gave him all the power in the world.

He led her inside, into the warmth that infused her with drowsiness. There was a flick of lights—outside off, inside on—then he was guiding her up a spectacular staircase that overlooked a sparkling chandelier.

“I assume you have at least one spare room.” She slowed and released her hand from his hold.

He paused at the top step and turned to face her with a succinct nod.

“And I assume you plan on putting me in there…”

His lips twitched, while the rest of him remained fierce, under control. He descended the two stairs between them and made her squeal as he lifted her off the ground, one arm beneath her legs, the other cradling her back.

“Flexing your muscles won’t change my mind.” Well, maybe it would, but she was going to hold out a little longer.

He carried her down a hall, past numerous closed doors, and into a room owned by his scent. With a flick of the lights he exposed her to a king-sized bed that would easily be dwarfed by his brilliance. The dark wood side tables were unadorned, the chest of drawers holding a flat screen television and nothing else. On the other side of the room, an open door led to darkness. And that was it. There was nothing to give her insight into his character, not a family photo to be seen. His private room was as revealing as his silence.

“Please put me down.”

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