Kissed (5 page)

But in all honesty, I couldn’t say I’d yet figured out what Keegan’s
factor
was. I certainly wasn’t selling my confidence with him, and I couldn’t imagine behaving as boldly with him as I typically did with my other clients. With other men, I could turn on the sultry, the slutty, the naughty. I might hate the act, but I could turn it on like a switch. With Keegan…I couldn’t turn on anything at all except, well, myself. I didn’t have any idea what it was he was looking for in me because I really wasn’t giving him anything I typically gave to men. And that…that was interesting. That was confusing. And frankly, that had just been plain incredible.

That
was all about what I wanted. Except for the end when he’d bitten my lip, but then I had actually wanted him to kiss me, even if I hadn’t let him.
That
was something I couldn’t quite define.

He watched me as I started to dress, and my eyes stayed on him too. My skin was still flushed and warm, and I knew without looking that my cheeks were still pink. Of course, there was no chance the blush would be cooling if I couldn’t take my eyes off his body. He was in no hurry to put his clothes back on, and his cock was hard again by the time he pulled his gray boxer briefs up his legs.

His body was fit, toned, and perfectly proportioned, and his penis was surely the envy of every man in the world.

He sat on the side of the bed, watching me tie the sash of my red wrap dress and slip my feet into the black pointy-toe Mary Janes I’d worn, and only after I was fully clothed did he finish dressing.

He followed me from the room, and as we stood waiting at the elevator, he reached down and took my hand. I pulled back, refusing to give it to him.

“Are you always so stubborn?” he asked without looking at me.

“Are you always so…” But I hadn’t bothered figuring out how I was going to end that question before I opened my mouth, so my words trailed off pathetically.

“What?” He finally looked at me. “Good in bed?”

And the elevator dinged as it reached our floor and the doors opened.

“Apologetic,” I finally said as I walked into the elevator.

I turned to face him, and he was smiling at me. My lips pulled up slightly too even as I fought against it. As the doors started to close, he reached out, stopping them and finally following me in. He turned to face the doors as well, and when he reached down to take my hand again, I let him, even though every cell in my body was telling me not to.

This man was a threat.

“Good girl,” he said quietly, and my skin prickled with goosebumps.

The restaurant was just off the large lavish lobby of the hotel, and we were seated quickly. It was late at this point, nearly nine-thirty, and few of the tables were actually occupied. I’d not eaten since late morning, and my stomach was threatening to crawl up my throat, out my mouth, and jump to the table twenty or so odd feet away to devour what looked like the most succulent hamburger I’d ever seen. It was on a child’s plate, who was clearly too tired to care about the food sitting there. His parents were complaining rather loudly to one another about a delayed flight into O’Hare, and the boy yawned, sinking back into his seat farther.

Keegan ordered the poached salmon and a glass of wine, and I followed his lead. I would have preferred the burger but not when I was trying to act like an adult who belonged in this place. And as the waiter nodded and then moved on, Keegan leaned back in his seat, resting his elbow easily on the arm.

“So people call you Gabe, at least the woman you were speaking to on the phone earlier. Who was she?”

I bit my lower lip as I tried to decide if I wanted to get into this with him. I’d been holding him at arm’s length because that’s always what I did with the men I dated. However, it was proving more difficult with Keegan because, for some reason, his eyes just seemed to study me more intently than the average man’s.

Most men seemed to see through me, as though I was only partially there, but since the very moment I’d met Keegan, he’d treated me as though I was a solid thing. Given the interest in his eyes now, fucking me apparently hadn’t lessened that interest. That was almost odd. But the real kicker was that I was far more worried about Keegan’s agenda than I’d ever been with another man, and that meant he was the last person in the world who I should be letting any closer than that arm’s length of distance.

“Come on, Gabe, telling me who the woman you were speaking to can hardly be a matter of national security.” He smirked as he nodded at the waiter, who’d just set our glasses of wine on the table.

“My sister, Jessa. I canceled a movie date with her tonight to see you.”

“You mean to see David.”

“Look at my good fortune,” I said sarcastically, but it wasn’t a humored sarcasm, and it came out dry and bitter.

I wasn’t really permitted to turn down a “date,” at least not with a regular—not if I expected to get more dates in the future. My availability was paramount to my job, and this wasn’t the first time I’d canceled plans with Jessa just so I could go sleep with some man I had no real interest in sleeping with. I almost felt more guilt on this night for enjoying the man I’d had sex with.

Keegan didn’t seem to appreciate my dark humor, given his expression, but he eventually smirked anyway. “Do you enjoy the chairman?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” I couldn’t imagine what would make him think I would.

“It’s just a little harmless conversation, Gabe.”

I glanced away for a moment. “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t.”

“But you enjoyed me.”

“What makes you think so?” I was pushing him back again.

But he chuckled quietly. “You came, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question.

I shrugged. “That means nothing more than my nerve synapses are working appropriately and you’re not a complete idiot when it comes to female anatomy. It’s hardly impressive.” It was too impressive. It was the most incredible sex I’d ever had, and here I was staring at the man and refusing to acknowledge it.

He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “Your pussy was wet when I fingered you. Did you think I didn’t notice? And I hate to break it to you, since you seem hell bent on pretending you didn’t enjoy what we did, but the cum that was practically dripping down the inside of your thighs wasn’t related to any nerve I touched, at least not physically touched.”

I could feel my cheeks warming, and I looked down at my lap. “Can we talk about something—?”

“I want to kiss you.”

My eyes shot back up to his. “No.”

He laughed. “How very Julia Roberts of you.”

“I wish,” I said quietly. “But that’s not real life, now is it?”

He smiled. “I don’t know. You get to fuck wealthy men in expensive hotel rooms and make a nice chunk of change for a few hours of work. I mean, I’m sure they’re not all Richard Gere, but…we can’t all be Richard, now can we?” He shrugged as his eyebrows shot up.

I wasn’t amused. “Don’t,” I said coldly.

“Don’t what?”

“Patronize me. Mock me.” I stared at him.

The smirk that had been on his lips moments before started to fall. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He held my eyes for a moment before he glanced down at his lap and sat back in his seat.

The waiter arrived and set our plates in front of us, and we were silent for the next ten minutes as we ate. He watched me, but his expression and manner had changed. He’d lost the toying edge, and his focus on me seemed to have intensified in some way that wasn’t in the least related to sarcasm.

“You didn’t tell me why I can’t kiss you.”

I set my fork down and pulled my lower lip into my mouth as I thought about how to respond. When I glanced to his eyes, he was patiently waiting for me to answer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to kiss someone you don’t want to kiss—to feel their tongue and mouth on your own? To put
your
mouth on theirs? It isn’t an intimacy issue. It’s completely disgusting.”

“I’m sure you put your mouth and tongue on all manner of body parts you may not want to, so I guess I’m wondering why kissing is such a big deal.” He watched me patiently.

I looked away, and I didn’t bother looking back when I responded. “I can’t seem to close my eyes tight enough or pretend my way through it in the same way as other things.” My voice was too quiet, and I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Kissing is just somehow harder when there’s no real attraction.” I finally looked back at him.

He was silently studying me. “We already know attraction isn’t the issue here, so how about you tell me the real reason.”

I wiped my mouth with my napkin, dropping it on my plate. “Because I don’t like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

He nodded. “Now that I believe.” He smiled. “So how much then?”

I cocked my head to the side, confused at what the hell he was talking about. “How much…?”

“For your lips.” It wasn’t an offensive remark. It could have been. But his eyes studied my mouth in such a way, as if mesmerized by it, that, regardless of the crassness of that question, it was clearly desire that drove it.

I’d noticed the way he looked at my mouth before. The first night we met at the open bar at the fundraiser, even in the small conference room moments before he had me escorted out of the same hotel I was now once more sitting in. I didn’t know quite what to make of it, except it sent a rush of warmth through me every time I caught him staring.

“They’re not for sale.”

He bit his lower lip, still watching mine.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He smiled. “Of course you can.”

“Do you work for criminals? Is that this whole”—I waved my hand around between us—“thing you’re involved in with David? Is
he
a criminal of some sort?” I’d never cared enough about David to actually ask or find out what he did. I knew he was wealthy, and people tended to address him as either chairman or councilman. Neither title made any sense to me in truth. Beyond that, I knew nothing else of the man.

Keegan laughed. “No, dear. I don’t work for criminals. You do.”

The waiter cleared our plates, and I reached for my glass of wine. “So I don’t need to worry about your…people offing my family or something along those lines?”

He laughed again, shaking his head in amusement. “Not at all. The people I work for are more politically motivated than that. David has aspirations that they’re helping him realize, but their support comes at a cost.” Keegan leaned forward, once again putting his elbows on the table as he spoke. “Here’s the high-level synopsis. David is the alderman of District 43.”

I cocked my head to the side, wondering if this was some weird masonic title.

“Alderman,” he repeated. “City councilman for all intents and purposes. Specifically the councilman who represents one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in Chicago—The Gold Coast District.”

I nodded.

“David comes from money. David comes from oil.
David
comes from an incredibly profitable company that designs, manufactures, and distributes very important things to do with oil.” He smiled again. “What this all means is that David could be well positioned to benefit certain political agendas if he ever made it to Washington. But there’s one big problem standing in his way.”

“And what’s that?”

“Pussy. Moreover, his inability to control his desire for it. He happens to be addicted to it. At the moment, it’s yours. Tomorrow it could be someone else’s. When it comes to politics, reputation is king.” He shrugged. “The fact he’s pushing fifty and isn’t married with children is a problem. Hell, I’d be happy if he was a widower, and if I could dredge up a dead spouse, I’d be tickled pink. But I can’t because the man has never wanted to get married or father children.” He shrugged. “Why would he when he can afford the best pussy in town?” He studied me for a moment as he smirked.

“That’s offensive.”

“No, that’s simply his mentality.” He was silent for a moment. “The fact he’s been seen and continues to be seen with a woman who’s young enough to be his daughter is a problem. He’s a public and political figure here in Chicago. Washington has a long memory, and what he does today could easily affect his political career five or even ten years from now. He’s got to be clean—on every level clean—for public consumption. If anyone ever found out he paid for you, paid for other women, it would be all over for him today, tomorrow, and even ten years from now. That’s just the way it is.”

“So why don’t these people who are helping him just find someone else to invest in?” I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table, too, and letting the intrigue pull me in.

“He’s their cash cow, from a political perspective at least. He has everything they need to make a run at it. He’s got ties to the political community, he’s got the money, he’s got the knowledge, the desire, the family connections, the business. He’s the perfect investment, barring a few flaws.”

“And that’s where you come in?”

He nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”

“So what do you do exactly? I mean other than chase off women like me.” I said it sarcastically, but something about those words and that concept gnawed at me when I heard them out loud.

“It’s my job to find those weaknesses that could harm his future career endeavors. I’m a strategist of sorts. I help create what the world is looking for. Sometimes it’s a man; sometimes it’s an entire campaign launch. I create the image people want to see. If my client can’t dress himself, I find him a tailor. If he can’t say the right thing, I teach him to shut up. If he’s a bumbling fucking idiot, I show him how to play it cool. Basically, I design the package, not from a political perspective but from a PR perspective.”

“Did you have to go to school for that?” I meant it as something of an insulting joke.

But he hummed in response. “Yes, actually. A lot of school.”

He must have seen the shock on my face. I was doing little to hide it.

“I came from D.C. myself. A politically connected family. I graduated high school at sixteen from my rather prestigious prep school. I graduated from an Ivy League college with a double major in political science and psychology. I picked up another degree in public relations a couple years later.”