On Paper (23 page)

Lily left for the signing and I decided the best thing for me to do was to keep busy so I didn't think about the fact that Keaton was in town, just a few miles from this apartment or the way my heart felt like it was twisting into knots because I missed him so much. First, I cleaned the kitchen. I rearranged the cabinets and organized the pantry. Then, I pulled down all of the curtains in the house and washed and ironed them. I blared music from my headphones to drown out any lingering thoughts of going to the signing. I stayed so busy that before I knew it the sun was setting. After a long hot shower I slipped on a pair of sleep shorts and grabbed my Kindle. It was storming outside, my favorite weather for reading. I grabbed my grandmother's quilt and settled in on the overstuffed couch. Lily had texted me not to worry about her, that she was with Miles. I wondered if she was also with Keaton. I hadn't asked her if she'd talked to him. I wasn't ready to hear the answer.

I opened the book, but now that I was sitting still, surrounded by the quiet, the onslaught of thoughts I’d been avoiding all day had found me and I ended up just staring at the words. The thunder outside rumbled, causing the pictures on the walls to rattle. I jumped in surprise, laughing at myself.

I jumped again with the sound of a loud knock on the front door. I froze. When the knock came again I slowly pushed the blanket back and stood on shaky legs. It could be anyone; my dad, the pizza guy who always tried to deliver here by mistake, but as I walked slowly to the door my heart began to beat a frantic rhythm, because even if I wasn't ready to admit who might be on the other side of that door, my body knew. My body felt the pull and my heart had no choice but to follow.

Sure enough, when I peered out the peephole there he was. Keaton. Stunningly handsome and getting drenched. I yanked the door open and for a moment all I could do was stare.

“What are you doing here?" The words tumbled from my mouth and I saw doubt flash across his face, like he was regretting whatever path had led him to my doorstep in the pouring rain. I was happy to see him, shocked to see him, afraid of the feelings that had left me paralyzed in my doorway watching this handsome memory tuck himself under the small eave to escape the curtain of water falling around him.

"I was in the neighborhood," he shrugged. When I still didn't move he sighed, "Do you think I could come in for a minute? It's a little wet out here."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. Come in," I stepped aside and he moved past me smelling of familiar cologne and rain. I watched as he shed his dripping coat, noticing that he was fairly dry underneath. Still, the fabric of his shirt clung to his frame and reminded me of how good it felt pressed against my own.

"Quinn, the door is open. So is your mouth," he said, his smirky smile teasing me. I quickly shut the door, embarrassed that he'd caught me staring. Drooling was more like it. Now that he was standing here I felt like my entire body had been charged with electricity.

"Here, give me your coat."

He handed it over and I walked it into the bathroom so it could drip there. When I came back Keaton was standing in the same spot, hands in his pocket and looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"You can come in," I offered motioning to the living room. He followed me and took a seat on the couch. He looked nervous and I found it to be highly adorable. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I just kind of stared at him for a moment, taking him in. I didn't know how to react to the fact that he was sitting here. I felt stunned and it seemed to have fried my ability to communicate like a normal person.

”I thought I would see you at the signing today," he said. He held my gaze and I felt my stomach do a somersault.

"Oh."

He raised his eyebrows, questioning my one word non-answer. I wasn't sure what to say. He knew I was avoiding him. He wanted to know why. That wasn't even an answer I could give myself.

He leveled his eyes at me, waiting me out. Their intensity had me fidgeting. Not only with nerves, but with a desire that I'd done my best to keep buried since I'd left San Francisco.

"I had something come up," I offered.

"You were avoiding me," he challenged.

I sighed, "Maybe."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Try." His voice pulled me in, I heard the need for answers.

"I didn’t know if I could see you again," I admitted.

"I took this signing because I wanted to see you," he said. He shook his head and started again, “I took this signing because I needed to see you.”

His words fell over me in slow motion. I wanted to grab each one as they fell and hold on to them before he took them back.

"You're being awfully quiet over there," he probed.

"Sorry. You're going to have to give me a minute,” I admitted.

"I texted you," he pushed again.

"I know," I said, fidgeting in my seat, my fingers twisting together as I chewed the inside of my lip.

"You didn't answer."

I shrugged. Why couldn't I form words? My breath kept catching, keeping me from getting enough oxygen into my lungs to make real conversation.

“Quinn,” he said, breaking through the mess of nerves in my head. I looked up, meeting his eyes and held my breath as he moved to sit closer to me. Just his proximity had my heart beating double time. “Stop thinking so much. It’s just me.”

I smiled, letting out a breath. His hand moved to brush my cheek and the familiar touch seemed to settle me, ground me to him, reminded me of the stillness of just being in his arms.

"I’m not here to complicate your life,” he said quietly. Wasn’t he? Didn’t I secretly want him to?

“I know we agreed to leave everything behind in San Francisco, but I'm not sure that works for me anymore," he said. He was studying me intently, looking for a real reaction to his words before I could cover it up. I wondered what he saw there, because honestly, I didn't even know what my reaction was.

He waited for me to sort it out.

When I took too long he moved closer still and took my hands into his own. "Quinn, look at me," he commanded. My eyes lifted to meet his, the soft blue pulling me in and casting their spell over me. "I want to see you again. I want more than just a memory of an amazing week," he said.

I didn’t know what to think. This was not a conversation I had ever planned for. I had no plan of attack for how to handle this situation. I searched his face, looking for the truth there. Looking for the real story.

“Quinn, say something. You’re killing me.”

“You’re here,” I said finally. The fact still leaving me dumbstruck.

He smiled, “Yeah.”

“Even after I left.”

“Yeah.”

“After we agreed.”

“Yeah.”

“I missed you,” I admitted.

I heard his breath catch, “Me too.”

“I wasn’t supposed to miss you.” I said.

“Me either.”

"It won't be like it was in San Francisco," I said softly.

"It might be better," he said.

I took a deep breath, my heart was beating erratically and I was feeling a little dizzy. It was as if my entire world had shifted on its axis.

“I don’t’ know how to do this. You aren’t part of my plan.” I said. This made him smile, the big grin that had become my favorite.

“I guess you’ll have to wing it then,” he shrugged.

I wanted to believe him. But my head was sending me warnings, trying to remind me of reasons why it couldn’t work. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this girl.

"Keaton, I'm just a normal girl. I don't do big parties, I don't do drama, I don't worry about what some guy is doing when I'm not around," I said. I was desperately trying to hold onto my sensibility, the things that I knew, the things that made me feel safe. I didn’t make decisions based on gut feelings. I didn’t say yes because it felt right. I said yes because it made sense. On paper. In real life. In the long run. Keaton was reckless. I was not reckless. Not in my everyday life. California had been the exception, not the rule. What if he was here looking for a girl who didn’t exist?

He leveled a serious look at me, pinning me in place. "I'm not saying I'm an easy guy to be with. I get that. And I've never really been one to ask someone else to stick around. What I'm telling you is that I'm not ready to call us over. San Francisco did something to me,
you
did something to me. I'm not ready to let it go just because you think it's a good idea."

"You agreed with me," I choked out. I swear the oxygen in the room had thinned. I couldn't get a deep breath to stabilize myself. Each breath brought the scent of him and it traveled through my body waking up every nerve and every desire.

"I've changed my mind," he said simply.

I swallowed hard as his face moved closer to mine. His eyes lingered on my lips and I knew he was going to kiss me. I felt the pull, like magnets; there would be no resistance.

His name fell from my lips just before his mouth met mine. I melted, like putty, as he kissed me slow and deep. I let him take control, surrendering to him the way I'd wanted to all along.

His hands in my hair, my hands against his chest he reminded me of everything I'd been missing. My memories had been nothing but faded facsimiles of the real thing. What he was doing with his mouth, his tongue and his teeth were stunningly bright with detail.

Even if I'd wanted to think or question anything it would have been in vain. I was starting to realize that it wasn't the location that had me jumping in without a net, it was Keaton. He made me daring all on his own.

I was swept away.

Instantly.

"It's crazy how much I've missed you," he said as his mouth pressed hot kisses down my throat, leaving me nearly panting against him.

"Me too," I managed.

"I kept dreaming about you. About kissing you, touching you, tasting you." I bowed against him as his hand slipped beneath my tank top and drew soft circles across my stomach. My entire body was a tense ball of need and fire. "Don't send me away," he said, his voice rough against my ear, commanding, pleading, needy.

I pulled back to find his eyes and behind the hooded, sultry gaze was the same vulnerability I was feeling. I smiled, touching his cheek.

"I want you to stay," I said.

Just like that he was on me again, this time his hands lacking restraint and control as they pulled me to him. I straddled his lap and he lifted my tank top up and over my head. His gaze lingered on my now bare chest as his thumbs grazed my nipples. They were so sensitive beneath his touch and my head fell back with his exploration. When his mouth covered the taut bud my body began to move against him.

I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel him. He pulled my mouth back to his, his kiss passionate and demanding. "I'm taking you to bed," he said. He stood and I wrapped my legs around him. "Which way?" he asked.

I laughed, "Down the hall, last door on the right." He kissed my nose, squeezed my ass and headed towards my bedroom. Thank goodness I'd cleaned today, I'd hate to have had bras and underwear scattered about.

He set me down on the edge of the bed and then stood and stared at me. I fought the urge to cover up under his intense gaze. I liked the way he was looking at me, like he couldn't get enough. "I think it's time we got rid of these," he said stepping forward and sliding the tiny sleep shorts down my legs, leaving me in only the tiny white cotton panties I'd put on after my shower . . . before Mr. Sexpot showed up at my door. I made a mental note to make sure I only wore pretty underwear from this point forward.

He didn't seem to care though, in fact the way his tongue ran across his lips as he stared at me made it pretty clear he approved just fine. I watched as he reached behind his head and pulled his shirt up and over his head. My eyes drifted over the hard lines of his body and I pressed my legs together to try and calm the ache that had settled there.

Keaton's eyes were focused on me as his hands moved to his belt and he slowly undid the buckle. It was so slow and deliberate that it felt like I was watching an erotic dance. It was a torturous tease as he popped the button of his jeans, and slowly lowered the zipper. He caught my eye and gave me a mischievous smile as he pulled the foil packet from his pocket and tossed it on the bed. Guess he’d been pretty sure of himself.

Finally his jeans slid over his narrow hips leaving only his boxer briefs and a distinct bulge beneath begging to be released. I was itching to touch him, wanting to feel every hard line of his body. I sat up and reached for him, letting my fingers trace across his skin. He moved closer allowing me to explore further, his hands twisting in my hair. My hands moved to his hips, pushing down the material of his briefs. I glanced up to see his eyes watching me intently. I felt his body tense as I ran my hands across his perfect ass and then around to grasp his cock. He hissed through his teeth and pulled my hair slightly causing my head to tilt back momentarily. It sent heat through my blood as I began to stroke him,

“God, baby, that feels good. But I’m telling you, I’ve been deprived for way too long. I’m not so sure I’m going to be able to take you teasing me much longer.” He nearly growled, which only pushed me to see how far I could take him before he snapped.

His eyes were closed when I took him into my mouth and the gasp that left him as I took him deep stirred my own desire. “Jesus,” I heard him mumble along with a string of nonsensical words as I worked him with my mouth and my hand. His hands remained in my hair, but he didn’t push, he only held steady.

“Stop, you have to stop.” I was completely lost in my moment when he stepped back unexpectedly and steadied himself. I looked up at him questioningly. “Baby, I wasn’t kidding. I’m all kinds of wound tight right now and as good as your mouth feels I just want to be buried inside you.”

I smiled, enjoying the scattered look on his face. “Well, okay then.” I stood, and made a show of crawling slowly onto the bed, my white cotton undies on full display. Keaton was right behind me, knocking me to the mattress playfully.