Page 97 of The Keeper


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“Well, I like hockey to watch. And soccer. I played soccer in high school but then I got really into cross country and track. I ended up running for two years in college but then I got bored with the competition and now I just run to stay healthy.”

His eyebrows raise and I can’t quite figure out what has surprised him. He just says, “Most people don’t give up on college sports unless they have an injury.”

I lift a shoulder. “I’m not a particularly competitive person. I just liked running and I was good at it and I got pulled into collegiate sports because it helped pay for school. But in the end, I just wasn’t that excited about it. So…my turn?”

He nods. “Your turn.”

We keep this up through the ends of our drinks. He asks if I want another but I err on the side of not wanting to be hung over in my conference sessions tomorrow. He refuses to let me pay for anything and as we stand, our eyes meet and he says, “I really want to kiss you right now. Is that weird? Would that be weird?”

My mouth hangs open. We’re in the middle of a bar in a hotel and I don’t know what I was expecting because I’ve been thinking about sex with him since like two minutes after we met, but still. I’m not a kiss-a-stranger-in-public kind of person.

When he asks, “May I?” I nod.

He leans in and his lips are perfect against mine. He’s not hesitant, but he’s also not greedy. He’s commanding, firm, his tongue grazes my bottom lip and I melt into him, opening, letting him taste my mouth. He tastes like whisky and it’s a heady thing. Literally intoxicating. His hand finds my lower back as he increases the intensity. I’m wet and throbbing and it takes everything I have not to rub myself against him right here, in front of everyone in this bar.

When he pulls away, he looks as dazed as I feel. We stare at each other as I bite my lower lip again, contemplating what happens next. I hear myself ask, “Is there more where that came from?” It doesn’t sound like my voice at all.

“My room or yours?” is his response.

* * *

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