Keenan
With a sigh, Keenan plopped down on the sofa. He brought his beer bottle to his lips and stared at the television, barely registering the flickering lights bouncing off of him in the dark living room. He’d felt off all evening.
While cooking pasta for two instead of three, he realized that in only a matter of a week, Ryleigh had become a vital part of his family. During tonight’s dinner Keenan and Tommy had acted like two ships drifting at sea, calling out to each other on an entirely different wavelength.
Keenan had sent a sulking Tommy to bed early, because he couldn’t stand being around his son’s constant moping. Was this how it was going to be if he’d messed things up with Ryleigh and she’d leave them?
“Fuck.”
He scratched his beard and stared at the television without registering what’s been said.
Not only his son had been out of sorts tonight. He’d missed her too. Keenan loved how she joked during dinner and brought out the best in his son. He loved seeing her sitting at his dinner table, period.
He’d missed her stolen glances at him. Her lingering stare whenever she figured he’d been too busy cooking to notice. It made him feel wanted again. Desired.
While it might be the right thing to do, putting the breaks on them as a couple, for Tommy’s sake, hadn’t felt so right today. He wondered if he wasn’t hiding behind his son when in reality he needed to slow down things between them.
Because the big question is; could he give her what she deserved? What if in the end he wasn’t ready to open up his heart again? What if he’d never be ready?
Would it be fair for him to ask Ryleigh to settle for less? And why should she? She deserved so much better than a seven years older, single father who had nothing left to offer because someone had already damaged him too much.
The sound of the lock in his front door turning made him sit up straight in his seat. His eyes burned from peering into the darkness. Rapidly flickering images of the television danced around the room, lighting Ryleigh up as she entered the living room.
“Hey…” he offered lamely when she said, “Hi.”
“I hoped you’d be sitting downstairs tonight.”
“Oh?” He tried to act nonchalant, not willing to let her know she unnerved him just by standing so close to him. He took another sip from his beer and placed the bottle back on the coffee table.
Ryleigh stood before him in a white tank top above tight-fitting jeans that showed off all her curves. With the television being the only source of light in the room, the backlighting gave him a perfect view of her silhouette.
The memory of her orgasm in the pantry popped up, and he licked his lips. The vision of her perky tits in that damn tank top tortured him. Oh, how sweet her hardened pink nipple must feel against his tongue.
Ryleigh picked up the remote control from the sofa’s arm and turned down the volume of a channel that dedicated all its airtime to cooking programs.
His breath became audible when she took a step in his direction and held still in between his legs. He reached his hand out to her hip but let it fall back on his thigh.
He struggled to find the right words. What should he say?
‘Please stop?’
Or,
‘Don’t you dare to ever fuckin’ stop?’
Her small hands touched his knees, and she softly nudged them to open for her. She stepped in between his legs and her hands traveled up his jeans. When she rested them mid thigh, she leaned in and demanded him to meet her eyes.
“I want this, Keenan. And it may sound cocky, but I know you want this too.”
His gaze ping-ponged from her corn blue eyes to her cleavage that she’d no doubt purposely offered on display as she still leaned forward.
She lowered herself, oh so slowly, on her knees in between his legs. He shook his head softly, not knowing if he could control himself any longer.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Damn.
“Ry…”