Page 22 of Baby Maker

I want to meet his gaze. That unrelenting, intoxicating gaze. But I know if I do, I’ll be lost to the moment, so I opt to focus on the ground. A safe place, devoid of emotion. “Did you mean it?”

He steps closer, a finger slipping under my chin and forcing me to look at him. “Absolutely.”

“My breasts can’t double as flotation devices.” I’m shocked by my brazen comments. Maybe being cooped up in the house for too long has knocked loose my last bits of sense.

He edges closer still, a small gasp escaping my lips as my back hits the wall. “I still like yours better. In fact, I like everything about you better.”

“I like everything about you, too.” The words leave my mouth before I can fathom the ramifications of such a statement.

It’s just like last week, except without a dog meddling. This time, there’s nothing but us, the darkness, and the fire building between us.

His one hand slips around my waist, his other sliding along my jaw to cup my head. Then he kisses me. No warning, no seeking permission.

He claims my mouth, his tongue pushing past my lips in complete possession. The blood pounds in my ears as I cling to him, spurring him further.

Keegan tangles his fingers in my hair, daring me to pull away. Break the moment.

Not a chance in hell, Doc.

Instead, I scratch my nails down his chest, daring to skate my palm along his erection. He bucks against my hand as the energy heightens.

With an almost violent groan, he presses his length against me, trapping me in the embrace. One hand holds my jaw as his tongue owns every centimeter of my mouth. The other? Dips under my skirt, his dexterous fingers pushing aside my g-string before sliding inside me.

Once again, he’s not asking. He’s taking.

This is Keegan laying his claim. And I’m letting him. I’m desperate for more as I grind against his palm, the small moans that escape my throat swallowed by his kiss.

He pushes a second finger inside me, and I clench around him, my fingers curling in his belt loops, fumbling at his buckle. The fire inside me is growing by the second, and I need him to quench it. The ache is growing unbearable.

I need him.

I need him now.

Without warning, Keegan breaks off the kiss, his eyes wild, his breath coming in short huffs. “I shouldn’t have done that, Calli. It was totally unprofessional. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry. I—I have to go.”

“Keegan, please—”

But my words don’t reach him as he twirls on his heel, storming toward the door.

He pauses before opening it, his jaw twitching. “I’m so sorry, Calli.”

Then he’s gone.

One apology would have sufficed. He didn’t need to keep reiterating all the ways the kiss was wrong. Especially when it felt so right.

I lean against the wall, willing back the tears, my internal monologue chiding me for behaving like a wanton hussy.

So much for manners or class, Calliope.

After a quick stop in the bathroom to reapply lipstick and straighten my hair, I stumble back into the banquet room. I know I’m Simon’s wing woman, but I need to call an early end to the evening. I can’t bear to look at Keegan’s face and see dread or disappointment about our earlier tryst. Figures. The first man I kiss since Nigel’s death runs away as if I have the plague. Maybe I’ve lost my touch. It has been almost two years.

Great. Now I doubt not only my sexual prowess but my kissing ability. What a banner evening all around. Perhaps I can schedule a root canal tomorrow, just to round out the week on a high note.

I don’t get it. His body reacted to me. He wanted it, too. Until… he didn’t.

“Calliope, there you are. I’m sorry to do this, but we have to go.” Simon offers a rueful grin and a shrug, and I damn near launch myself into his arms when I hear them.

“Thank God. I mean, what happened? Is everything okay with Bridget and the kids?”

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