Page 21 of Feel Free to Scream

But it doesn’t matter.

“Four.”

Keller can afford that sort of expense, and then some. It won’t even be a blip in his fortune. And it would be such a comfort for the woman who selflessly raised me. I’d hatemyselfif I let this opportunity slip.

If I kiss him and he goes back on his word, I can hate him with all my heart body and soul. And if I kiss him and he does what he promises, I can hate him anyway for making me do it…although, the relief it would bring us would make it hard. At the very least, I’d be able to keep my distance, stay away from him.

“Two.”

I never had any choice. And it’s just a little kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

I cross the space between us, lifting myself onto my toes to reach his mouth.

9

KELLER

Holy fuck.

I expected, I don’t know, a peck. More protests and reluctance, andoh, but my poor boyfriend who lives two thousand miles away and is likely balls-deep in some slut right now, whatever would he think, or something. But it seems all she needed was an excuse.

Claire wraps her tiny arms around my neck and kisses me like she’s dying for air and I am the only source of oxygen in the room. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever bothered to kiss anyone like that. Like I needed it. My arms move around her waist on instinct, pulling her to me. And fuck, she feels so right against me. Like she belongs right there.

I don’t even register when I decide to lift her to the bar and settle myself between her thighs as I explore every inch of her lips, her mouth, and neck, my hands on either side of her, caging her in.

You’re going nowhere, my little prey.

She sucks in her breath when I find a spot right between her neck and shoulder that makes her body tighten, those legs squeezing me a little, and it’s all I can do not to open my zipper and take her right there. No one would bat an eyelash. Tonight’s a public party, so our club events are strictly confined to the second floor and above, but the crowd is still mostly composed of either Heritage members, House occupants, or those we keep around. They’ve all seen far worse. The only thing stopping me is the fact that I don’t want it quick and dirty. Not with her. I want to take my time. I want all of her, for hours, until I’m so painfully intimate with every inch of her skin I grow bored of it. That’s the only way I’ll be rid of her: if I indulge until I’m sated.

I make myself step back, grinning down at her dazed expression. The girl’s a lightweight. Another reason not to push it tonight. “See?” I tell her, thoroughly entertained. “It's easy to make people do what you want. All you need is to know what makes them tick.”

That gets her attention. “Howdidyou find out about my grandmother?” she asks again.

She doesn’t sound pissed off, shocked, or fearful, like she should. Just curious.

“There are only two Claires new in town. It wasn't hard to figure out.” I shrug indifferently. “What? Are we going to pretend you didn't research my name?”

She glances down, biting her lip guiltily.

Don’t do that, little ghost. Let me do it for you.

Claire isn’t tipsy enough to completely miss her wit. “Details about her, about her need for a knee replacement? That’s not on the internet when you type my name in a search bar.”

“So, you did research my name,” I glean. “Find out anything interesting?”

The little firecracker narrows her eyes at me. “Why should I answer any of your questions when you don’t answer mine?”

She’s really going to push this, isn’t she? “You have your trusty friend, Google. I have a full team of PIs on retainer. Nothing personal,” I add. “My father and I check most people who walk into our lives. And especially when they come into contact with Octavia.”

That makes what I did sound positively reasonable. Selfless, even. Somehow, I don’t like misrepresenting myself as the caring, overprotective uncle here.

“You were just so cute, I had to see if you were worth getting to know. Now, I believe you owe me your number.”

“Don't you already have it?” Claire challenges, attempting to conceal a touch of amusement behind a frown.

“Perhaps,” I admit. “But a gentleman still asks.”

“Are you?” One of her eyebrows lifts a little. “A gentleman.”

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