Page 37 of Keep Me Close

His lips linger against mine, and the rush of sensation that spirals through me is almost dizzying. When the velvety softness of his tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips, I open. It’s not a conscious decision. More like instinct. With a groan, his fingers slide into my hair, threading through the thick strands as he tilts my head just enough to deepen the kiss.

With my palms pressed against his chest, I’m able to feel the heavy beat of his heart. The world narrows to the warmth of his mouth and the way he fits against me. A low sound escapes him when my fingers drift to his shoulders.

That’s all it takes for me to forget this is about practice.

He kisses me like he’s been holding back for years and is doing his best not to lose control. Heat floods through me and my breathing turns unsteady. My fingers curl into his shirt, as if it’s possible to anchor myself to him and the moment unfolding between us. If I don’t, I’ll probably float away.

Knox makes a rough sound before jerking back. There’s a rush of air between us as I blink up at him, feeling slightly dazed as my lips continue to tingle.

He clears his throat. “I think that’s enough.”

My thoughts spin as I stare at him. All I want to do is lean in and kiss him again, just to see if it would feel as good as the first time.

“Are you sure?”

His jaw tightens as my hand lifts to graze my lips, trying to steady myself. But it’s impossible.

“Yeah, I am.” He pops to his feet. “Actually, I’m pretty beat. I’m going to call it a night. Feel free to watch TV for as long as you want.”

Before I can even open my mouth, he turns, disappearing down the hallway. A second later, the soft click of his bedroom door echoes through the space.

What the hell just happened?

The bigger question is… do I want it to happen again?

14

Knox

I stare at the ceiling, wondering how it’s possible to feel both exhausted and wired at the same time. I slept like shit. Each time I managed to drift off, an image of Cheyenne slid behind my eyes, followed by the memory of what her lips felt like beneath mine.

Soft and warm.

Too damn responsive.

The little sound she made when I’d deepened the kiss echoes through my head. Or maybe that had been me. At this point, I don’t know.

I scrub a hand over my face and blow out a slow breath.

One kiss.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

Proof that Cheyenne Benson isn’t any different from the other women I’ve been with.

Proof that I’m still in control.

Instead, all it did was blow a massive hole through those theories.

I spent half the night replaying that kiss in my head like a highlight reel I couldn’t shut off. The way she’d melted into me for one reckless second before everything had gone still. The way my hand had threaded through her hair. The way I’d wanted to drag her closer and⁠—

I sit up before the thought can finish forming. There’s no point lying here and pretending I’m going to fall back asleep. The clock on the nightstand says it’s barely after six.

It’s too early for her to be awake. I could use a few minutes to get my head on straight before I have to face her and pretend that kiss didn’t shift everything between us.

I shove out of bed, yanking on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before heading to the kitchen. The penthouse is quiet, the city beyond the windows just beginning to stir as pale morning light bleeds between the buildings. For a few blissful seconds, there’s nothing but silence and the low hum of the coffee maker as I fill it with water.

Coffee.