Chapter 41 Let him see
~Sage~
The car rolled to a smooth stop just in front of the garage, and my heart immediately lodged itself in my throat like a stone I couldn't swallow. Through the tinted windows, I could still make out the distant silhouette of Damon standing by the fountain, his figure illuminated by the soft glow of the estate's exterior lamps, and even though I knew he couldn't see inside the car, every nerve in my body screamed at me to run out.
I reached for the door handle without thinking, my fingers wrapping around the cool metal as panic flooded my veins. If I could just slip out now, if I could make it to the side entrance before Damon got any closer, maybe I could pretend I had been walking the grounds alone, maybe I could come up with some excuse for why I was dressed like this at this hour, maybe I could salvage whatever shred of secrecy we had left.
But before I could pull the handle, a warm hand landed on my thigh and held me in place.
"Where do you think you're going, Cinderella?" Keith's voice dangerously calm, like he hadn't noticed that his father was standing less than fifty yards away, watching our car with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.
"I have to get out," I whispered urgently, my eyes darting between Keith and the figure in the courtyard. "He's right there, Keith. If he sees us together in this car, if he realizes we've been out together all night, he's going to know something is going on between us. I need to get out before he gets any closer."
Keith didn't release my thigh. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into my flesh in a way that sent unwanted sparks of heat shooting up my spine despite the terror coursing through my bloodstream.
"And what exactly are you going to tell him when you come stumbling out of my car looking like that?" Keith asked, gesturing vaguely at my appearance. "You think he's not going to notice that you smell like me? That your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are glazed and you look like a woman who's been thoroughly fucked?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out because deep down I knew he was right. The evidence of our evening together was written all over my body, and no amount of quick exits or clever lies was going to erase the truth that was probably radiating off of me like a beacon in the night.
"It's better than sitting here and waiting for him to come investigate," I finally said, my voice strained with desperation. "The longer we stay in this car together, the more suspicious it looks. He's going to wonder why we haven't gotten out yet. He's going to start asking questions. Keith, please, just let me go."
But Keith wasn't listening to my pleas. Instead, something mischievous flickered to life behind those beautiful eyes of his, and when his lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, I knew that whatever was coming next was going to be trouble.
"You know what, Cinderella?" he said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that made my stomach flip despite my panic. "I'm tired."
"Tired?" I repeated, confusion momentarily overriding my fear. "Tired of what?"
"Tired of hiding." He reached over and found the lever on the side of my seat, and before I could process what was happening, my seatback was reclining backward, dropping me into a nearly horizontal position as Keith leaned over me like a predator who had finally cornered his prey. "Tired of pretending that you don't belong to me. Tired of watching you walk around that estate playing the role of his Luna when we both know whose name you scream when you come."
My breath caught in my throat as his face hovered inches above mine, his eyes burning with a combination of lust and mischief that made my head spin. This close, I could see every detail of his features, the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his lips and the way his pupils had dilated until his eyes were almost black with desire.
"Keith," I whispered, my voice trembling. "He's right there. He's going to see us."
Keith's smile widened, and there was something almost feral about the expression, something that spoke of a man who had stopped caring about consequences and started caring only about claiming what was his.
"Let him see."
The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the remaining air from my lungs and leaving me speechless. Let him see? Was he insane? Did he not understand what would happen if Damon discovered the truth about us? The scandal, the danger, the complete and utter destruction of everything we had been trying so carefully to protect?
I opened my mouth to protest, to explain all the reasons why this was the worst idea he had ever had, to beg him to see reason before it was too late.
But I never got the chance to say a single word.
His mouth descended on mine before I could form a syllable, his lips capturing mine in a kiss so deep and demanding that it wiped my brain completely clean of coherent thought. This wasn't the gentle, reverent kiss he had given me in the meadow. This was possession. This was claiming. This was a man who had decided to stop playing games and start making statements.
His tongue swept into my mouth without asking permission, tangling with mine in a dance that was equal parts passionate and punishing. I gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him, like every noise I made was his property and his alone. His hands wound into my hair, fisting the carefully styled strands and pulling my head back to deepen the kiss even further, angling my face exactly where he wanted it so he could plunder my mouth with devastating thoroughness.