I bristle. “I could have handled it.” I could’ve run. Or yelled. Someone inside the bar would have heard me if I’d screamed. Right?
“Sure you could.” His good eye narrows.
I cross my arms. “Look, thank you, but next time, just don’t get involved. I’d rather fight my own battles.”
He cocks his head. “You know, you’re pretty terrible at saying thank you.”
My cheeks flush. Damn it. I thought I did already, but… I shake my head. Something about him throws me off my game. Makes me say things I never would normally. “Look, I…” He catches my gaze. Whenever he looks at me like that, it’s hard to keep my head on straight. “Why are you helping me?”
“What do you mean, exactly?” He lifts one eyebrow, his tone teasing, and yet…
“With…” I gesture vaguely at the street, in the direction my would-be attacker ran toward. “That. But also, why are you keeping my secret? At school.”
Something flashes in his gaze. His smile widens, just a tad. I’m not sure what it means exactly, but it makes me want to keep talking, just to fill the space. Because otherwise, the tension between us feels like it’s starting to thicken. Growing unbearable.
“I mean, I sort of thought you’d leap at the chance to tell everyone I’m some poor working class kid who has to serve drinks to guys like that.” I gesture up the street again. I tilt my head, when he doesn’t reply. “Am I wrong, or would that sort of gossip be valuable as hell at this school?”
“You’re not wrong,” he says finally, still with that unreadable look in his eye. “Secrets are a valuable commodity in any society. Tanglewood especially.” He pushes off the wall. Moves toward me.
“So.” I find myself doing the same. Stepping toward him, even though I know I should be moving in the other direction. My instincts scream at me to run, but… “Why are you helping me?”
“You’ve got it all wrong.” He stops just an inch from me. We’re so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body in the cool fall evening air. “I’m not helping you. I’m not a good person, Missy.”
I raise my chin. Keep my eyes fixed on his. He’s lowered the ice pack now, and the bruise looks angrier, redder. But it only serves to make his dark eyes seem even sharper, more focused. I’ve never felt so wide-open—as if with one glance he’s tearing down all my defenses. Zeroing in on the core of me.
I feel stripped bare. Naked before him.
My throat tightens, but I can’t make myself swallow. “Then why?” I ask, but the words come out a whisper. A breath.
Doesn’t matter. He’s close enough to hear them. They draw a sharp smile on his dangerous lips. “Because,” he says, bending closer, and I catch his scent. There’s no alcohol on is breath. Just a sharp, heady mix of something spicy and a little oaken, almost. It makes my breath catch, my lips part.
He smells good. Incredible, really.
“I’m a bad guy,” he says, so low I almost don’t think I heard him right. “Terrible, actually.” His gaze drops, taking in my body. Slow, like he knows I won’t move a muscle until he’s finished looking me over. His smile widens, and when his eyes meet mine again, he arches an eyebrow. “I haven’t said anything at school because I enjoy knowing something about you that no one else does. I told you. Secrets have power.”
The way his says power makes my mouth go dry, my heart skip.
We’re so close. Another inch and he could close the gap between us. Kiss me.
I want him to, I realize, sudden and fierce. I’ve kissed guys before, but never guys like this. Never guys who could destroy me with a word. Never guys who get into fistfights to defend my honor, either.
Never guys who look at me the way Keanen Kross is right now.
I tilt my chin up, toward him. “Kiss me,” I breathe. And he does.
5
The second Keanen’s lips meet mine, my whole body arches up toward him. I feel like I’m on fire. My stomach clenches, and my hands move of their own accord, sliding up his chest—God, he has hard muscles. He’s lean, but he’s not scrawny. My hands reach his neck, loop around it, and his hands are moving too. Far more distractingly.
He traces the lines of my sides. Down to the curve of my waist. Lower.
The heat in my belly moves with his touch. Sliding deeper inside me, until my thighs press together, trembling. His hands have barely skimmed my waist, and I can already feel a throb in my pussy. I know if he touched me, he’d find I’m already wet.
He draws back, just far enough to gaze down at me with fire in his eyes. “Missy…” He tilts his head, considering me again. I can’t get enough of him when he looks at me like that. As if he’s dissecting me.
Then his hand slides between my thighs, up, up, until he grips my pussy through my jeans, his thumb right over my clit, stroking me through the thick denim.
“Tell me,” he whispers, his mouth just an inch from mine. I groan, my eyes fluttering half-closed. “Do you want me to fuck you? Right here, right now.” He moves against my leg, and I can feel the hard press of his cock, even through his jeans and mine. God he feels big. Through his pants, no less. I can’t imagine how hard and thick he’d feel without any clothes between us.
Another thrill passes through me. Because yes, fuck yes, I want him right this second. But we’re still standing in this dingy, poorly lit alleyway. An alley right next to the bar where I work, where at any moment another customer could stumble out and discover us, just like the man Keanen just drove off.
I swallow hard, glancing up the street, even though it takes serious effort to drag my gaze from Keanen’s sharp, piercing one. “I…”
“Don’t worry about them.” He smirks. “I already made sure we wouldn’t be interrupted. Anyone still at the bar will be exiting through the back.”
But his words hit home. Make me realize… I lean back a little, though not far enough to break free from his arms entirely. Or to dislodge his hand, still between my legs, his thumb still kneading right across my clit in slow, easy circles. Circles that are making me desperate for him to press harder.
“But,” I murmur. “If you locked the door before you found me out here, then you already knew…”
He arches a brow. “I knew that creep would try to accost you? I have to admit, I did anticipate something of the kind, when I saw the way he was staring at you inside. You really don’t have much of a sense of your surroundings, do you, Missy?”
I bristle. Try to twist free now, but Keanen holds on. Backs me against the wall. “So, what? You planned to fuck me yourself, is that it?”
“Do you want me to stop?” As soon as he says that, he releases me, both my waist, and the hand between my legs. He steps back, and the cold night air rushes between us, twice as cold now that I don’t have the heat of Keanen’s body pressed against mine anymore.
“I…” Fuck. I want to tell him to fuck off. I want to tell him I’m not that predictable; that I won’t give into him just because he’s got a sexy smirk and searing eyes and the kind of long, lean body that I’m dying to touch all over. Not to mention that brief taste of his thick cock that I felt.