Below Unforgiven (14 page)

“Done yet?” I whispered, less angry.

“Yes.” He took a step toward me, and I backed against the mirror on the wall.

“Well?” I managed.

“Are you attracted to me?”

I knew my facial expressions rolled from offended to indignant to haughty, finally landing on defeated.

I nodded once. “I won’t lie, I like your kisses. I like your hands. But I’m not selling my body.”

Exhaling, long and slow, he was thoughtful as he stared down at the ground. Finally, he lifted his face to mine and took a step forward. I backed against the mirrored closet door.

He was too close; thinking rationally was becoming an issue.

“Finish out the weekend as my girlfriend, for my family’s sake. I’m attracted to you. Very attracted to you.
I want you a million different ways.
I don’t want to do this, not now, not when I don’t know what the fuck is going on with my divorce. I’ll definitely end up hurting you.”

A million different ways?

I tried to swallow, but my throat went dry. I made the mistake of imagining him
taking
me a million different ways, and nearly slid down the mirror. I could read the honesty in his eyes.

“Wasn’t that… the plan all along?”

He flattened both hands against the mirror, and his mouth just barely grazed my ear. “You’re falling for me, V. I know the look.”

“You don’t know me,” I corrected in a snappish breath, frustrated as his fingertips trailed along my collar bone and throat. Shivering, I closed my eyes, willing myself not to press against him. He lowered one hand to my waist, tugging at my tucked-in shirt.

“I know you’re vulnerable right now. And I know I’m not a very honorable guy.”

“I’m not vulnerable,” I managed, my stomach filled with a mixture of pleasure and queasiness. Lust always made me just a little bit sick, and the intense heat between my bare thighs from beneath my skirt only added to my discomfort.

His purposeful fingers worked the lowest button on my blouse. When his fingernail skimmed my stomach, I reacted by sucking in my breath, pulling as far away from him as possible.

“You’re right. I don’t know you.
But I want to
,” he murmured. His lips caught my earlobe, his teeth dragging over my sensitive skin.

My heart clamored. I suddenly longed for Matthew, even while melting beneath Keaton’s skilled mouth. Matthew had never made me feel so unsure, or frightened…

Or powerless.

Weakly, I stopped his fingers at the third button, knowing my bra was just an inch away from his touch. He ignored my resisting hand, his mouth dropping to my neck at the same time his hand pushed, separating my blouse, slipping beneath the lacy cup of my bra. When his rough thumb rolled over my hardened nipple, I moaned, utterly defeated.

I could feel his touch like a shockwave through my body, and then his hand was up my skirt and between my legs, rubbing over my panties.

“You’re very wet.”

“
Keaton
,” I pushed him away, guilt flooding through me in reluctant waves.

“For me,” he added, pinching my nipple once before lowering his mouth to my chest.

“
Please
, Keaton.
Stop
.”

He stopped kissing me and nodded against my shoulder, groaning before backing away.

I watched him adjust his tie, the bulge in his pants more than noticeable through the thin material. “You’ve been hurt. I don’t want to hurt you. I like you too much,” he leaned forward, catching my hand in his. When his fingers surrounded mine, he tugged me to him.

His smile, so wide, eased the tension between us.

I twisted my lips, raising my eyebrows. I stared at his face, at those intense gold-green eyes, trying to decide what to make of him. I couldn’t predict him any more than I could predict my own emotions
around
him.

And it was goddamn exciting.

“I like you too, boss.”

Chuckling, he looped his arms around my waist. “
Let’s go dance.
”

I enjoyed the pressure of his hands on my hips. “Okay.”

He grinned, glancing at his watch. “Okay, hurry. I want to avoid Robin and Deanbag.”

“We can’t just ditch them!”

“They’ll get over it,” he promised. “Take the bathroom. I’ll change out here, and then I’ll arrange for you to have another room. No temptations. Back to business. Okay?” I nodded, biting my lip in thought. He watched me, tilting his head to the side. “What?”

I cleared my throat. “Do I have to subtract the price of the room from what you’re paying me?”

He watched me for a long, amused moment before sighing and shaking his head. “No. Just a perk.”

Relieved, I grabbed for a jean skirt and shirt.

“I could get used to this.”

Blast from the Past

The suite adjoining mine was available for Vivian, so I asked for a valet to bring the key card to my room. I listened to her singing in the bathroom, exhaling slowly.

I wanted her.

Long term. I usually knew within minutes of meeting a person whether they were needed in my life, and I was usually spot on.

(Kelsey had blown my perfect, intuitive record, but fuck that bitch.)

Vivian was vital.
I was going to be on my best behavior for the remainder of the weekend.

I would kiss her at just the right times, in just the right ways.

“
Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,
” she sang softly from the bathroom (acutely on tune, I was impressed to notice) and I smirked at my aspiring little gold digger. Scrolling through an email on my phone, I tried to decide the best place for her. Frank was swamped with my work in LA, and I needed a location assistant for Idlewild. She was smart, and I wondered how much she actually knew about filmmaking.

If I dangled a real job in front of her on Sunday, I wanted to guarantee that she wouldn’t refuse.

Rummaging around in my bag, the white object on the desk caught my eye.

Her phone. She needed a phone, and I needed her to
have
a phone. I grabbed for it, jumping to her contacts and typing PMT. In moments I was speaking to a Verizon Wireless automated system, cleared her balance with my credit card, and then waited briefly for the device to reactivate.

As soon as the network finally picked up, alerts began flooding in. Five text messages and three voicemails.

An incoming call flashed on the screen, no contact information, and I lifted the phone to my ear without thinking.

“Vivian Hale’s answering service,” I clipped, adjusting the clasp on my watch.

“What the-who in the hell is this?”

A man’s voice. I held the phone away from my ear once, double checking that whoever was calling was not one of her contacts.

“Who in the hell is
this
?”

“This is Vivian’s fiancé. Put her on the phone.”

“Fiancé?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes.

“Who the
fuck
are you?”

Hmn.
Feisty little asshole. “I’m her boss.”

“Her boss…,” he was slowly exploding, and I kind of enjoyed it.
So, she was engaged to numero uno douchebag,
and I guessed that he was the one huffing and puffing in my ear.

“Yes, her boss. She’s in the shower. Who should I tell her is calling?”

“
What the-
”

“You know what? I’m on a tight schedule, my friend. Go ahead and call back, leave a message.” I ended the call, tossing her phone to the bed.

She was engaged.

Was
she
still
engaged? The guy seemed to think so. Either he was some kind of stalker…

Or she was lying. Again.

In seconds the iPhone was ringing, same unknown number, and Vivian opened the bathroom door.

She’d changed into a cut off jean skirt that barely covered her thighs, and a blue, V necked top that had me fighting between staring at her perfect breasts or her gorgeous eyes.

“Is that my phone? I thought…,”

“I activated it for you. I want you to keep in touch with Gram. She’ll worry,” I added, watching her pull her hair up into a ponytail. “V, you are fucking gorgeous.”

She grinned, spinning slowly before dropping into a vain little pose that had all the blood in my body pumping directly into my dick. “I know.”

Groaning, I resisted pressing her back up against the mirror. “Take your key.” I handed her the key card for the room next door, pointing at the adjoining door.

“Thank you.” She scraped her bottom lip with her teeth, and lifted her eyes. “What do I owe you for the phone?”

Owe you?

I considered, deciding I didn’t mind her owing me.

Not one bit.

“You owe me one answer.”

“One answer?” She repeated, reading absently through her texts.

“One answer. I’ll ask you something, sometime tonight, and you have to answer.”

“Nothing pervy,” she argued, without looking my way.

“No, I told you I’d behave.”

“Okay,” she agreed, stopping in midstride, examining her phone. “Did someone just call?”

I watched recognition pass over her face. “Yeah, as I was paying the bill. I hung up on the caller, and then it rang again and went to your voicemail.”

She closed her lips, nodding.

“Ready to go turn twenty-one?” I hurried, hoping she’d ignore the voicemails until later.

She waved her phone in the air, nodding. “Thanks for this.”

I winked at her. “Anytime, kiddo.”

As we took the elevator back down to the lobby, she stopped scrolling through her text messages and paled.

“Everything okay?” I asked, leading her toward the front desk.

“I have to listen to this voicemail,” she began, but Robin was already barreling into her.

“You won’t fucking believe this. Lindsey is
back
in the wedding. They made
up
. Fuck, I can’t handle this drama,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning. “I need a drink!”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” I urged, anxious to get her out of the lobby and away from the traveling sports team of girls checking in-
and
their horrified mothers. “You and your trucker mouth are embarrassing Vivian.”

“I’m fine,” she lied, anxiously staring at her phone. “I just need to-…,”

“Hey, whatever is on that voicemail-that you haven’t even
listened
to-is already making you break out into hives. Turn it off for the night, V. Let it go.” I held my hand out, waiting.

She drew in a deep breath, finally placing her iPhone in my palm. “You’re right. Not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” I repeated, taking her hand. “Come on, you can drive us there.”

Her eyes widened, and she reminded me of a little anime schoolgirl. “What? I can drive your Ferrari?”

I grinned, sliding my hand around to her back and tucking her against my side. “Can you drive a stick?”

Making sure that she caught my innuendo, I winked. She rolled her eyes, holding her hand out. “I can learn if you teach me. Keys.”

I stopped midstride. “Did you just quote
Boyz n the Hood?
”

“I’ve seen a lot of movies. I told you that,” she chimed, sauntering to the car.

I turned to Robin, and my sister grinned at me appreciatively. “I never met
this
Vivian. You’re good for her, Keat.” She pinched my cheek before planting a motherly kiss where her fingers had been. Dean swooped in from behind and tackled her neck with his mouth.

“V, wait, can you really drive a stick…?”

I jogged after her, nervous as she adjusted the mirrors and familiarized herself with the car. “I wouldn’t demolish the transmission on this baby if it were a life or death situation. Now, where are we going?”

“We’re going to Juke.” I heard Vivian’s cell phone ringing again, watching her reach for it.

She glanced at the number, and this time, her face went white. The name
Matthew
flashed across the screen of her iPhone as Robin and Dean approached the car.

“Vivian.”

She turned to me as the phone incessantly continued ringing.

“I should…,”

“You should turn that off and let me help you forget him for a while.”

She exhaled slowly as the call went to voicemail.

After what seemed like an eternity, she held the power down button on her phone and lifted her eyes to mine. Those blue orbs captivated me in the moonlight.

“Help me forget him, Keaton.”

Something happened way north of my crotch, and I felt like I’d had too many Red Bulls too fast. My chest constricted, and every possessive bone in my body charged to life.

I decided, at that moment, that she was mine.

My what, I wasn’t exactly sure. My project? My plan?

My salvation?

She belonged with me, on my arm, at my side, and in my bed.

And I wanted to make damn sure that she wanted me, too.

I reached for the keys, turning them in the ignition. “We’re going to play a game at the bar. I usually win, but I’m thinking that I may have finally met my match.”

“A game?”

“Trust me.” I tugged on her ponytail, and she grinned, waiting for Dean and Robin to climb into the back seat before expertly shifting the Ferrari into reverse.

The Game

Juke was loud and fifties themed, and I cringed a little at the wannabe Jack Rabbit Slim’s atmosphere. We were warned right away that the air conditioner was broken, but no one seemed to care.

Keaton walked into the bar like he owned it, immediately making friends with the bartender. After a brief conversation over my driver’s license, he returned to our table with four beers and four shot glasses.

“Wait, wait,” Robin called as she gathered the glasses, placing each one in front of us. “We have to sing happy birthday to you!”

I kept my wide smile, despite the turmoil of Matthew’s phone call tearing the wings off of all of the pleasant butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Matthew is trying to call me.

Why? I know I’m late with this month’s payment, but he’s never called me about it before. Is it because it’s my birthday?