Page 38 of Kept

He gives me a devilish grin. “Do you actually think I’d run the risk of letting another man see you naked?”

The balcony is huge, with thick drapes pulled closed wrapping around the space and a roll-up roof that is open, the night sky filled with stars. The centerpiece of the space is the large garden tub, recessed into the floor. Vincent kicks the tap with his foot and water starts to fill the tub, wisps of steam rising into the cool night air. He slowly lowers us into the hot water.

I groan as I sink deeper, the warmth covering my body and soaking into my bones.

“This doesn’t suck,” I sigh. He’s sitting with his back against the tub and his long legs spread. I’m sitting in his lap, my head resting on his chest.

He chuckles. “No it doesn’t.” I feel his lips press against the top of my head.

After a decidedly pregnant pause, I tilt my face up to look at his. “I’m sorry. For not telling you about…”

Are you blushing? Seriously, Sarah? You just had sex with the man and you can’t talk about your V-card?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, cupping water with his hand and drizzling it over my shoulder so it runs down my body. The question is curious, not judgmental or condescending.

Definitely blushing.

I can feel the heat in my cheeks and my chest. “Because I honestly didn’t think I would bleed. I don’t know any dancer that has.” He’s quiet, so I continue. “It’s not like I was saving it or anything. Growing up in foster care, dating wasn’t really a thing. Then with my career… there was always something more important than dating. And the only man I spend any time with is Robert, and you have probably caught on to the fact that he’s so very gay.”

I feel him chuckle against my chest, and he leans forward, his lips brushing across my ear. “Kitten, blood or no blood, the second I sunk my cock into your perfect, tight cunt, I knew.” His voice is thick and low, almost a growl.

I shudder. “So, yeah. Anyway, I’m sorry. False advertising and all.”

His teeth nip the back of my neck. “And is that the real reason you didn’t tell me?”

Because I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and I would have died of terminal orgasm denial if you’d stopped.

Like hell was I saying that though. “It’s not a big deal.”

He makes a little tsk tsk sound. “Liar.”

“What? It’s not.”

“Oh, no. Being the only man to feel your pussy stretch open for me, or to come deep inside your body with my name on your lips? Oh, that’s a very big deal, kitten.”

Fuck. Me.

No normal man could say something like that and get away with it. The dirty words would sound coerced, like something out of a romance novel. But with him, it’s authentic, organic. Hot.

He plants a kiss on the nape of my neck. It gives me another little shudder before I relax and sink deeper into the warm water, my body melting against the firm expanse of his chest. After a while, I ask, “So who is trying to kill you?”

He tenses briefly. “An old acquaintance, I think.”

“What happens now?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

I feel him chuckle. “I call my guy that does the whacking.”

I snort. “Naturally. I meant, what happens to me?”

“You’re not safe until this is over.”

“You don’t know that. This has nothing to do with me.”

“Call it a hunch,” he tells me.

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