I read it, and my stance droops a little. Hey, I read it fast the first time so I wouldn’t get caught reading it, okay? And not on purpose. It popped up on his screen when I was making a call from his phone. Then I couldn’t ignore it. It’s not like you wouldn’t have read it either.
“Now read what I answered her back,” he says, rather calmly, I have to say. I would not be so calm if I were him. Just saying.
Next, I read his text, my stance slouching even more, and when I finish, I look up at him. “So you weren’t sexting her?”
That laughter is back. “No, the one I was sexting is you.”
“So you aren’t interested in her?”
He shakes his head no. “Maggie, you are the only girl I’m interested in.”
I find myself invading his space, making room for myself as close as possible. “Oh, I might have jumped to conclusions.”
“‘Oh’? That’s all you have to say?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I also said I jumped to conclusions.”
“Yes, you think!” His voice is loud.
“Turns out, I’m a very jealous woman; I can’t help that.”
Those eyes narrow on me. “The only reason I’m not putting you over my knee right now is because I get that.”
“You do?”
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he murmurs. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want,” I breathe. “Anything you want.” Then I add, “Well, not the spankings. I’ve never been spanked and I’m not a fan of pain.”
Those eyes darken as he shakes his head and suddenly he’s not smiling anymore. In fact, he’s entirely serious.
Cars speed by with horns honking. People pass us on the street. The streetlights glow and snowflakes fall and melt on the ground. But all I can really see, all I can really hear, all I can really smell, is him.
There’s a fire in his eyes, and when he looks at me I swear I’m the one burning. And then, as if the flame is too hot and he can’t take it anymore, his head dips and his lips come crashing down on mine.
And I kiss him back. Boy do I kiss him back. I wind my arms around his neck and curl my fingers in his hair, tugging it, making him groan.
Our tongues stroke in desperation, searching for even ground that I’m not sure we’ll ever find, and not sure I want to find it.
Our mouths pull at each other for an eternity, or maybe more like five minutes, and then he leans back and brushes his thumbs against my cheeks. “I don’t know what this is developing between us, and I want to find out. But you have to know, the thought of any other man’s hands on you is enough to drive me to the brink of insanity.”
I lean back and use my linked hands as support. “Keen, I was not interested in that guy at the bar one bit.”
“I know,” he growls into the cold night air. “Or I would have broken his hand.”
I gasp at the thrill of his jealousy, although I know I shouldn’t.
Wouldn’t you, though?
“Still, Maggie, you left and didn’t tell me. I couldn’t even concentrate tonight not knowing what the hell was going on with you. That is not like me. At all. And then I had to backtrack your steps to find you because you weren’t where you were supposed to be. Do you have any idea how infuriating this night has been?”
The wind picks up and I shiver. “I do. And I’m sorry. It’s just I was mad at you.”
Keen pulls me right up close to his body. “I know and I get it. If I saw something like that on your phone, I’d feel the same way. That’s the only reason I’m remaining sane right now. But you have to know that I want you to be mine, Maggie—how do you not get that?”
I’m trembling, and I swear the earth is moving under my feet. Trying to keep myself from attacking him right here on the sidewalk, I take him by the collar of his trench coat. “I do now, Keen. I do now.”
Be his?
“So we’re clear. No one else, just you and me.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “We’re clear.”
Keen straightens and wraps his arm around me, tucking me into his side. “Good,” he says, and then swats my ass. “Now, let’s get back to the hotel. It’s fucking freezing out here, and you have some apologizing to do.”
My breath hitches and I give him a nod. And then as I snuggle close to him, I can’t help but think . . . Keen Masters is my boyfriend.
And for as long as I can remember, I am actually okay with putting a label on it.
On us.
On him.
Keen
One New York block can seem like a hundred when you’re in a hurry, but seven seems like an eternity.