A team.
That is what he said.
He cups my neck, holding my lips to his as his tongue slips inside.
The air fills with the sounds made by two lonely people seeking refuge.
What did he say?
Two consenting adults.
Gasping for air, I pull away.
His deep voice reverberates through my heightened senses brought on by the endorphin drop in my rushing circulation. “Fuck, I’m sorry?—"
My finger lands on his strong, demanding lips, silencing his apology. “I’m not, Keith. I’m also not blackout drunk.” I look to the computer and back to him. “I’m too many emotions to list.” I hated the vulnerability of being honest, but nevertheless, I continued. “I want to feel something good.”
Keith stands and offers me his hand. “It’s been a long time since I felt anything like I feel with you.”
As I stand, his long fingers encase mine.
“You’re beautiful, Jill. You deserve better than your family or me.” He lightly brushes his lips over mine. “And you’re fucking brilliant. I feel like we see things the insiders around here refuse to see.”
Swallowing, I nod. “A kinship.”
“A kinship.” He looks toward the open front door. “I can either leave through that door, or you can lock it.”
I locked it.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
My eyes open as I feel the touch of someone moving my hair away from my face. I blink, bringing Keith into focus.
“Good morning.” His deep rumble reminds me of our nighttime activities.
A smile curls my lips. “Good morning.”
“I hope you don’t regret?—”
The shaking of my head stops his words. “I have no regrets.”
After a long good-morning kiss, Keith throws back the blankets from the bed. I watch as he stands. When Craig and I were involved, he was only twenty-four or twenty-five years old. The maturity of Keith’s body makes it obvious that he’s a man in ways Craig was not. Keith turns his back to me. I watch as he steps into his blue jeans and pulls them up, the sexy V at the base of his spine catching my attention.
When he turns, his dark eyes shine. “Would you like coffee?”
“I’d love coffee.” I sit up, bringing the sheet over my breasts. “So this” —I motion between us— “isn’t going to be awkward?”
“No, Miss Thorne, unless you want it to be.”
“Now I know we’ve gotten past the Miss Thorne.”
His smile blooms, a full toothy smile like one I couldn’t recall seeing.
“Jill, I’ll make us coffee.”
In the bathroom, I take care of business, including splashing my face with water, brushing my teeth, and taking a brush to my unruly hair. In the reflection, I notice red splotches on my neck similar to the other morning. The difference is that this morning, I have full recollection of what took place.
