Page 32 of Keeper
Tanner flinches from Belle’s tight grip on his arm as she shrieks, “Say yes!”
Indie looks at Belle with a big smile. “Yes,” she whispers. Then she looks back down at Camden and shouts the three-letter word again. “Yes!” She launches herself into his arms. He stands up, lifting her off the ground and kissing her smile through his own. We all watch their embrace with cheesy grins of our own, happiness rolling off of them like the heat from the burning candles. It’s intense.
Dad’s voice cuts above the boisterous cheers. “Good grief. What other excitement is to come for this family?”
“I vote lots more babies!” Tanner cajoles and Belle elbows him in the ribs. He laughs and kisses her.
“Make a wish, Specs,” Cam says, his arms wrapped tightly around Indie’s waist as he stands behind her kissing her cheek.
She narrows her eyes and places a finger to her chin. “I wish…that Booker is next!” She blows out the candles, and I swear the whole world fades to black.
Love is in the air. Heaping buckets of golden, sweet, melting, delicious love that you can’t help but get drunk on. The Harrises are a family that was surrounded by so much darkness after the loss of their mother and the temporary loss of their father as he mourned. Booker was never one to talk much about his mum, but he spoke of how bad some days were with his dad. My heart aches for the children they were back then as they attempted to navigate adult problems.
Looking at them now, you can see that travesty created unshakeable bonds. And the universe is more than making up for those dark years. The Harris family is overflowing with love and happiness. On top of the stunning engagement ring Cam put on Indie’s finger, Tanner keeps making proclamations about lots of babies, and Hayden and Vi keep smiling at Hayden’s phone as they watch their daughter sleep on the nanny cam.
It’s immense. It’s breathtaking. Cake is eaten, drinks are shared, memories are told, laughs are had. The entire time, I think to myself,This family couldn’t be luckier.They have their own network of love, friendship, and support, and I’m thrilled to be near it, even as just a friend.
Booker’s eyes find mine all night long, starting with the moment Indie made her birthday wish. My knees nearly buckled when he looked straight at me with those eyes from the other night. Those eyes I wanted to see for so many years. His mouth may have been tipped into a half-smile as everyone erupted into laughter, but his eyes…His eyesdidn’t hold an ounce of humour in them. They watched me with purpose. His dark hair swept back showcased every emotion in his gaze, revealing the mysterious parts of his mind that I want to know. That I’m desperate to understand.
The rest of the evening, I feel the constant pull of energy wafting off of him. All directed at me. It’s overwhelming. I’m not drunk on alcohol. I’m drunk on Booker Harris. On the possibility of what could be going through my best friend’s mind.
After a million hugs goodbye, we make our way to the front of Old George. Booker opens the truck door for me and grips me around the waist, hoisting me up into the seat. His hands freeze for a moment, his gaze downcast, watching the hold he has on me as his thumbs stroke my sides. It feels like the way a boy touches a girl when he has feelings for her. Not the way a mate touches his friend.
He finally releases me and closes the door, allowing me to exhale heavy breaths and slow my heart rate as he walks around to his door and slides in.
We’re completely silent the entire way home. It’s a five minute drive, but it feels like hours. Hours of my mind racing over what’s happening between us. What’s happening tome. I’ve told myself that I’m not looking at Booker like that anymore. But right now, all I want is him. All Ifeelis him. I’m back to being that eighteen-year-old girl who was falling for Booker. But now I’m trapped in the body of a twenty-five-year-old woman who will demand satisfaction if I let myself continue to be so turned on.
Tension builds up inside of me like a rubber band ready to snap. Booker’s chin turns, watching me out of the corner of his eye as I mindlessly rub my legs.
My. Aching. Bare. Legs.
I inhale a shaky breath and press my head against the headrest, trying to put a stop to this sexually charged torture. How is a silent car ride this fucking erotic? What universe have I fallen in to? I’m weak here. I have no power.
Finally, we reach our building. We climb the two floors to our flat, his footsteps close behind me when we reach the door. “Excuse me, Poppy.” His voice is gruff and vibrates through every part of me as he slips past me with the key.
My eyes are downcast and my cheeks burn from the memory of my name on his lips as he reached his climax the other night. He pushes the door open and steps back for me to pass. I steal a glance at him and our eyes meet.—a million emotions roaring in his dark eyes.
I brush my arm along his firm chest and shiver at his sharp intake of air. He’s feeling something, too. I’m not alone.
My heels clack down the hall to my room. Once inside, I look over my shoulder and watch him pause at the threshold of his own room. His forearms flex as he grips the doorframe, stopping himself from entering. He turns his neck and looks at me with narrowed eyes. It’s then that I finally see it. I see everything clearly. Above all the other mixed emotions and confusions and unknowns, the one thing that shines over everything…
…iswant.
He wants me. And I want him. So badly I can taste it. So badly I can remember the feeling of his hard dick in my mouth. I don’t care that we shouldn’t. I don’t care how wrong it is because what I’m feeling inside my body can’t be ignored any longer.
Booker drops his head back and looks at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple sliding down his thick neck as he leans his back against the doorframe. His chin drops and he faces me full on.
It’s a standoff. A dare. A game of chicken. Who’s going to speak first? Who’s going to break the silent tension that is wafting down the dim hallway?
Reaching up, his hands begin slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. One tiny slip of a button at a time. A sliver of olive flesh showing on his chest with his descent.
My hands, too, develop a mind of their own.More like a sexual organ of their own.
I reach back and pull down the zipper of my dress, holding the bodice to my chest while the straps fall off my shoulders. My eyes remain downcast, basking in the heat of his gaze on me.
Watching. Waiting. Wondering.
Savouring the delicious build of him simply observing me.
