“And you’re now on my doorstep,” I rasped, trying to shake off the numbness at the edges of my mind. “In the middle of the night.”
Wasn’t that the thing? Whenever you desperately wanted to sober up, alcohol clung to you like Velcro, but when all you wanted to do was stay drunk, you were sober in an instant.
Keltan stepped forward, shortening the distance between us. “And now I’m on your doorstep,” he repeated. “In the middle of the night. Though I didn’t get here in the middle of the night. It was late, sure, but I told you this was the first place I’d come. I’m a man of my word.”
I moved my eyes up; the closer he got, the higher his eyes got. “Why?” I whispered.
He stared at me for a long beat. Or it seemed long to my fuzzy mind. Tipsy people weren’t the best to judge the passing of moments.
But then again, moments with him weren’t exactly slaves to things like laws of nature.
Then he wasn’t staring at me with that cocktail of emotions swirling in his eyes. He was kissing me. And despite my inability to stand straight, get out of a car without help and sober myself up, I was able to respond to the kiss.
Enthusiastically.
He yanked me into his body with one hand, the other tearing into my hair as he kissed me with a ferocity that was nothing like the gentleness of that morning that seemed to be a lifetime ago.
I let out a little moan from the back of my throat as I raked my fingers up the fabric of his tee so my nails could scratch at the smooth, sinewy skin of his back.
He let out a hiss between his teeth and pulled back, eyes wild.
“I’m here because of that,” he rasped, voice thick and rough. “Because of bungee jumping, running and crunchy peanut butter, babe.”
To my immense displeasure, he stepped back, leaving only the empty air to embrace me.
One hand held onto mine, the other open, palm up. “Keys,” he demanded.
On reflex, I immediately went to my bag and retrieved them, placing them in his large palm.
He gave me another lingering look before turning to unlock the door, my hand still in his.
The locks clicked and he opened the door, walking us into the hallway in silence, flicking on the lights and leading me into my living room.
The lights illuminated my small but cozy space. The blinds were open so the shadows of the sea in the distance were showing through the darkness. There was a white domed chair next to a bookcase that sat next to that wide window. Perfect for reading and being still.
That was the idea.
I never sat there.
Or read most of the books in that case.
Still wasn’t something I excelled at.
Keltan led me to the sofa I’d been on with Polly earlier in the day.
“Sit,” he commanded.
Like someone had come in and snatched my body when I was too busy drinking cocktails, I obeyed.
He let go of my hand. Then he stood there, in the middle of my black-and-white room, my black-and-white life, and leaked color all over the place. With one simple stare that was far from it.
“What?” I blurted, unable to take the stare. I instinctively rubbed the side of my mouth for errant lipstick. That must have been the reason for the stare, something on my face. How embarrassing. Then again, it was his fault. He was the one who had just kissed the sense out of me. It was his fault for smudging my lipstick.
I frowned at him, despite the look. The one that dampened my panties to an even higher degree.
“Just thinkin’ how fuckin’ insane it is that you look even more goddamn beautiful in real life than how I imagined you every single night of my last deployment,” he said, voice thick. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Taste better too. Didn’t think that shit was possible, but it is. Then I was thinkin’ what a lucky bastard I am for not getting killed or blown to bits so I could come back here and realize it.”
I blinked at him.
“Wow,” was all my drunk mind conjured up.
He grinned. “You say less than I remember. But I’m thinkin’ that’s on account of the martinis. Those are your favorites, if I recall correctly?”
He winked before turning on his heel and leaving the room, in the direction of the kitchen.
I nearly fell off the sofa, craning my head to watch his ass move in his jeans.
I continued to sit while he was gone, hearing cupboards opening and closing. I probably shouldn’t have done that, just sat still, frowning at my unused bookcase while trying to figure out if that all actually just happened.
A dinging from my purse gave me something to do.
I fumbled for the phone and squinted at the screen.
Rosie: What did you do to Dwayne? The alpha biker life-sized doll is malfunctioning. You break it you buy it, remember?
Me: Talk morning. With more coffee and less drunkenness.
Xoxox
Rosie: With all the coffee.
Me: Just replace his batteries or hit him on the side of the head. That should do the trick.
I decided telling her about Keltan at this juncture would not be good. Also, the man himself was striding back into the room with that walk he had.
It was a great walk.
I moved my head up to him, where he had a glass in one hand and a closed fist in the other.
“You have a great walk,” I told him when his legs came to rest in front of mine.
I craned my neck so as not to focus at the crotch in my face and try to make out the bulge. He was grinning from that angle. Didn’t even have a double chin.
Figures.
I’d have about twelve chins if our positions were reversed.
“Thanks. It has been somethin’ I’ve been working hard on,” he replied dryly. He held out the glass for me to take.
I did so, holding it uncertainly, not sure whether I should drink it or try and bathe myself with it to sober up.
It would ruin the sofa, I decided.
“Hand,” Keltan requested.
I immediately gave it to him to hold, since it had been so nice earlier. His chuckle filtered through the air as he enclosed my hand in his for a short moment, turning it so my palm faced up and he could drop two white pills in it.
“Take those,” he instructed.
I frowned at the pills. “You don’t need to roofie me, you know. I’m a sure thing. Pair that walk with the jeans and the….” I focused on the belt buckle and what was below it. “Sure thing,” I repeated on a whisper.
Keltan stepped back, his breath hissing through his teeth as he rounded the coffee table so it lay between us.
His eyes were hard, jaw tight. “It’s painkillers, babe. Proactive treatment for the hangover you’ll no doubt have in the morning.”
I glanced back down. They did look familiar. “I don’t get hungover. I’m an adult. I’ve learned to drink in moderation.”
His brow rose.
I thought back on the number of cocktails I’d ingested. And then on how much the room was spinning.
I took the pills.
He grinned. “Good girl.”
I frowned at the distance between us. “Now you can come sit on the sofa,” I told him, my voice thick with the reminder of the kiss. And the promise behind it.
I squirmed with the thought.
His face tightened once more, noting the squirm. “No, I can’t,” he clipped.