Page 17 of Keep

I waited by the stove, watching him intently as he sat at his table, the shadows created by the falling darkness making his always inscrutable face even more so.

He murmured a few low, indecipherable words and then took another bite, not looking at me, focused on the plate I had anxiously set in front of him minutes ago.

“I can make something else,” I said, nerves springing up in my stomach.

“It’s fine.” His voice was flat, as icy as it had been that first day, and my nerves redoubled.

Twisting my hands together, I drifted closer to where he sat at the table and speaking around the building tightness in my throat, I said, “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I made this, but I can?—”

Green eyes as hard as shards of crystal silenced me. “I said it was fine.”

His lips were a flat line, the thunderous expression on his face making me huff out a harsh breath, my lungs growing tight with fear. I’d done something, and I racked my brain trying to figure out what it was and what I needed to do to fix it.

Vasile stood and carried his plate to the kitchen sink, his big body coiled tight with tension. I didn’t move, wished that I could sink into the floor to escape the intensity—and fear—of this moment. He turned then and walked toward me, eyes still icy cold, and for reasons I couldn’t articulate, I stepped back again and again until I could go no farther.

As he pierced me with his stare, I thought I might explode from the tension, and when he finally spoke, a shriek slipped out before I could stop it.

“Are you afraid of me, Fawn?” he asked, face close to mine, voice low, dangerous, arousing.

I met his gaze and lied. “No.”

“You should be.”

Not even a breath passed before he closed the scant distance between us, his lips so close to mine that the faintest movement would have made our mouths touch. But he stayed back, mouth millimeters from mine, his warm breath sparking a wave of shivers. His expression was still harsh, but this close, his lips were surprisingly soft-looking, and the thought of him touching me with them left me light-headed with desire, which contrasted with the fear that had ebbed but was still there.

I twisted my head, and my cheek brushed against his mouth. It was a light touch, barely a caress, but that simple touch was enough to capture me. His power had never been in question, but that contact with his skin made me want to give all of myself to him, to give in to the pull that had been there from my very first glimpse of him.

As if of their own volition, my hands crept up, the touch of his hard biceps against my palms, the sizzle of his smooth, hot skin making me suck in a quick breath. He turned his eyes to meet mine, and I dropped my hands.

He stared at me, his eyes icy, his face twisted cruelly, but his breath coming out harshly. Slowly, he raised his hand and stroked it down my cheek, across the column of my throat, down the middle of my chest to rest between my breasts, his hard, heavy hand flat against me. He pushed me gently until I was flush against the wall and then kept his hand there.

I wondered if he felt my heart pounding against his hand, and then all thought fled when he moved again, sliding his hand down my stomach to rest on my waistband. Eyes still on mine, he lifted his other hand and deftly opened my pants and pushed them down to midthigh. On instinct, I tried to widen my stance but my pants held me hostage, as did the almost chiding look that sparked in his eye.

I went still and waited, breath hanging as I watched him, wondering what he would do. That fear and uncertainty remained, but more, I wanted him to touch me.

Badly.

And when he finally did, I cried out, the deep, throaty moan that bubbled from me only giving a hint of the desperate desire that seemed to intensify with each passing second. His rough fingers against my pussy sparked pleasure, and I couldn’t stop the ripple that rushed through me or the low, frenzied moans that poured from my throat.

His hand was huge, hot, rough yet gentle, and the dizzying sensations he stirred left me disoriented, torn between the desire—need—to seek more and the fear that I wouldn’t be able to withstand it. That fear died on a choked-out moan, replaced with the insistent need for more when he pressed up, his palm pushing against my clit, the pressure intense but not nearly enough.

Eyes slammed shut, I groped out to feel him, his solid, heavy muscles under hot, smooth skin only ratcheting my need further. I didn’t recognize the husky voice that spilled from me. I’d never made a sound like it. No one, certainly not David, had ever made me feel even a fraction of what he did. That was even more true when he worked his fingers against my slit, spreading my lips with easy but persistent caresses, ones that coaxed even more moisture from me with each pass.

He was a stranger, a terrifying, dangerous one, yet more than anything, I wanted him inside me. I rocked my hips, trying to get more, and he took pity on me and sped his motion, allowing one finger to ever so slightly breach me.

“Please… More…” I cried, gripping his thick, solid forearms tight.

I rocked against him harder, faster, trying to set a rhythm that would send me to the climax that lay within reach, but he moved at his own speed, driving me higher but not sending me over.

“Fawn.”

My name on his lips, the low rumble of his voice, the accent that had once sounded cruel but now dripped over me like warm honey gave me the strength to open passion-heavy eyes. Our gazes collided, the icy green of his softer now, sparkling like the finest jewels. His expression was still stern, but I thought I could see desire in his huffed breaths and the tight clench of his jaw.

And then my eyes slammed closed again when he pushed two thick fingers inside me, filling me more than I ever had been before. One pump, two, and I clamped down on him, my cunt sucking at his fingers, trying to keep him inside. His harshly exhaled breath fanned across my face, and I was so sensitized that the simple touch felt like a heated caress.

Our bodies didn’t touch except where I gripped his arms and where his fingers pumped inside me. He still hadn’t even kissed me. But none of that mattered. No one had ever possessed me as fully as he did in this moment. And with that thought echoing in my mind, I held him as the pleasure rushed through me, cresting and then falling in a wave that had my vision blurring at the edges.

“Let me…” I started long, long moments later, laying a hand on the hard ridge that tented his pants, wanting to give him some of the pleasure he’d given me.

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