I swallow, giving a tight nod. Suddenly feeling more like crying than ever, and I’m not even sure why. It’s not like I didn’t know that Keegan has dated a lot of women. It’s not like I didn’t know that he took people on trips, but there’s a difference between knowing it, and having to watch one of his exes throw herself at him when he’s on a date with me.
Not that this was even a date.
I wrap my arms and press my chest like the action can somehow hold in all the feelings that I don’t want to feel. I turn away from him, kicking off my shoes as I walk over to my kitchen cabinet and get out a water glass. It’s just an excuse to keep my back to him while I get water from the fridge. “I knew this was a bad idea. Even before Selah showed up.”
“What do you mean, this was a bad idea?”
“Dressing myself up like I belong in y-your world doesn’t even get me close to the thing. We don't exist in the same w-world, Keegan. It was a bad idea from the start. I just made a fool of myself.”
“What are you talking about? You were brilliant. I even said as much. I thought we were having a fantastic time.”
“We were, at first.” I sigh out loud. “W-what do you want me to say? You w-want me to pretend that it didn’t matter to me that Selah was there?” Yeah. That’s probably what I should do. Because it shouldn’t matter to me that she was there. Or that they were once together. Keegan and I are just friends and therefore it shouldn’t matter to me who he’s dated in the past. Or taken to the Bahamas or St. Maarten, or anywhere.
“No,” he says, surprising me. “I don’t want you to pretend that it doesn’t matter to you. I want the opposite. I want it to matter to you.”
“What?” I don’t understand, and I’m whirring through the logic of his statement, finding none. “What does that even mean?”
“What do you think it means? It means Iwantyou to care that I was with her. I want you to be jealous. If you and I are on a date and some ex of mine puts her hands all over me, I wish it would piss you off. Just like it pissed me off to find you up on the roof with Reid. And that was before I even knew it wasn’t some stranger you were talking to. I want you to care what I do and who I do it with, because then at least I would know you felt something for me.”
My mind is churning over his words, trying to make sense of what he's saying. Except his words don’t make sense. “I don’t understand. W-what do you mean? You want me to be jealous? So this is how you expected tonight to end? With us fighting about Selah?”
He releases a huff of exasperation. “No, trust me. This is not how I expected tonight to end.”
“Oh, really? How did you think it was going to end?”
I don’t know what I expected his response to be when I threw out that question. Something glib, I guess, because Keegan is a master at keeping things light and playful. And right now, I desperately wish we could get back to the playful, light banter I’m used to between us.
But apparently, my question was the wrong one to get us back in the banter zone. Because as soon as the words are out of my mouth, his expression darkens. For one long moment, he just stares at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking as his gaze moves over my body. There’s something so intense in his eyes, something even worse than the anger that I’m not used to seeing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hated me in this moment.
But I know he doesn’t hate me. So why is he looking at me with such ... Such what?
“Fuck it,” he mutters. Then he tosses his tie to the ground and stalks over to me, his long legs eating up the space between us.
I take an instinctive step back until I feel my hips bump against the counter behind me. A moment later, he’s stopping in front of me, wrapping his hands around my hips. He lifts me, easily, and sets me on the counter, stepping between my legs.
“You want to know how I thought tonight would end?” His hands slide up into my hair, angling my jaw. “Like this. I thought it would end like this.”
Before I have a chance to ask what this is, he’s kissing me.
chapternineteen
I barely letmyself enjoy the sensation of his lips on mine before I wedge my hands between us and push him back enough to look up at him. “Wait. What? You wanted tonight to end with us kissing?”
He gives me an exasperated look. “Yeah. Obviously. Jesus, Meg, I want to endeverynight with us kissing. And tonight, you look even more amazing than normal. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off of you? Frankly, I—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish that thought. I fist his shirt in my hands and tug him close again.
“Then don’t keep your hands off me.”
“What?” he asks, his annoyance slowly giving way to something else.
“Don’t k-keep your hands off me,” I repeat, but this time the shock of my demand wears off and nervousness creeps in, having me stumbling over the words.
Keegan’s gaze searches mine, and I half expect him to pull back from me. To tell me he was joking. Instead, his hands find my waist, his fingers squeeze me there lightly, as if making sure I’m real, before they run up my ribcage. His other hand finds my thigh, and my skin pebbles under his caress.
“God, I have waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmurs. “Do you want me to show you what I imagined doing to you the moment I picked you up? Can I show you how I’ve wanted to touch and kiss you ever since the day we met and a million times in between?” Keegan’s gaze searches my face, and I half expect him to pull back from me. Instead, his focus lasers in on my lips. He leans closer in, his breath whispering across my lips. “So many kisses,” he murmurs.
His fingers grip my hips, tugging me closer until he’s pressed between my legs.
