Page 67 of The Sweetest Devotion

A tremor ran through me and I shuddered. Definitely a thin line we were treading.

“I’m a terrible kisser,” I lied.

Keith gazed at my mouth. “So, you’re good at everything else, but kissing is where it stops?”

“Uh-huh.”

He shook his head once more. “I don’t believe you.”

It was a bad idea, no matter how tempting it was. Iwantedto kiss Keith. But the trouble was, I couldn’t afford towanthim. Sex was already pretty damn personal. Getting all emotional and kissing him over kind gestures would only lead to my downfall.

He set me down and I smoothed out my dress, calming myself down and pulling myself together.

No kissing.

“Okay, I guess we can hang out for a little while,” I said.

I got in my Lexus and buckled in, easing out an easy breath, trying to steady my nerves. I should’ve driven home, but I didn’t. I followed Keith over to his house and didn’t hesitate to enter his home with him.

The last time I’d been here, I’d only gotten to see his bedroom and back patio. There wasn’t time for a proper tour with where our heads were. Now, Keith wasn’t interested in more sex as he took my pancakes along with his and went and set them on the counter in his kitchen. I found my way to his living room, with its polished amber wooden floors and clean white walls. There was a gray area rug underneath his glass coffee table and beige sofa. On a love seat across from the sofa was a pile of decorative pillows—something that piqued my interest because it said there was an attempt to find some sort of style.

It was fascinating how men didn’t require too much for taste or decoration. Keith was clearly satiated with the simple things, as he had his large TV mounted on the wall in front of the sofa and coffee table, a blue throw blanket neatly folded on the back of the sofa in case he got tired, and then there were a few movies on a nearby bookcase that went along with his Blu-ray player.

Men didn’t need knickknacks or trinkets because “it was cute.”

Even if the minimalist thing worked for Keith, I still was curious about him adding a touch of pizzazz in his home.

On the TV stand beneath the TV was an Alexa. I went and turned her on as Keith entered the room, going and making himself comfortable on the couch.

“What do you like to listen to? Oh yeah,” I suddenly remembered, “violence.”

Keith was rolling his eyes when I looked back at him. “Enlighten me. What doyoulisten to?”

I leaned against the TV stand and pondered over what to request Alexa to play.

“Alexa, play R&B,” I said.

Alexa indulged me, and soon we were hearing a classic song that had me turning and grinning at Keith.

“Naughty Girl” by Beyoncé came through Keith’s speakers and he chuckled as he eased back into his seat on the sofa. He had a toothpick in his mouth as his eyes were locked on me.

A dark eyebrow arched upward. “You gonna do a little striptease?”

Now I was rolling my eyes. There was no waythatwas happening. “That reminds me, I’m going to need my panties back.”

Keith sank back, manspreading comfortably. “Come get ’em.”

The thinly veiled threat sent something lurching beneath my belly.

“Dance with me?” I asked.

Keith shook his head.

“Lame.”

The Beyoncé song was too infectious to stand still. While I wasn’t confident enough to do an actual striptease, I did feel silly enough to want to dance for Keith.

I restarted the song and turned around and set my gaze on where Keith was watching me.

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