Chapter 42 Let him see II
~Sage~
I forgot about Damon. I forgot about the car. I forgot about everything except the man who was kissing me like the world was ending and this was our last moment together. My body responded to him the way it always did, melting into his touch like butter on a hot pan, becoming liquid and pliant and desperate for more of whatever he was willing to give me.
His hands left my hair and began to roam across my body, sliding over the silk of my dress with possessive intent. He palmed my breast through the dress , squeezing gently before pinching my nipple between his fingers in a way that made me moan into his mouth. His other hand traced down my side, over the curve of my hip, down to my thigh where he pushed the slit of my dress open so he could feel the skin underneath.
I was on fire. Every nerve ending in my body was alive and screaming for more of his touch, and the logical part of my brain that knew this was dangerous and reckless and utterly insane had been completely silenced by the overwhelming tide of desire that was drowning me from the inside out.
Keith kissed me like a man possessed, like he was trying to consume me completely, like he wanted to leave his mark so deep that no one who looked at me would ever doubt who I belonged to. His lips left my mouth and traced a burning path down my jaw, across my neck, to the sensitive spot just below my ear where he bit down gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.
"Keith," I gasped, my hands clutching his shoulders like they were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly started spinning. "Oh god, Keith."
"That's it, baby," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot and ragged. "Say my name. Let him hear who you really belong to."
By the time he finally pulled back, I was a complete and utter disaster. My dress had somehow rearranged itself during our frantic making out, the straps slipping off my shoulders and the skirt bunched up around my hips in a way that left very little to the imagination. My hair, which had been perfectly styled at the beginning of the evening, now looked like I had been caught in a windstorm or possibly dragged backward through a hedge. And my makeup, which I had so carefully applied before our date, was smeared across my face in a way that made me look less like a Luna and more like a woman who had just been ravished in the backseat of a car.
I couldn't breathe. I literally could not remember how to make my lungs work properly. Keith had kissed me so thoroughly that he had stolen my ability to perform basic biological functions, and I was fairly certain that if I tried to stand up right now, my legs would give out completely.
Then I glanced toward the windshield, and I felt my fears coming right back.
Damon was walking toward the car.
He had left his position by the fountain and was now striding across the courtyard with long, purposeful steps, his face filled with suspicion as he approached the vehicle where his son and his Luna had been sitting suspiciously still for far too long. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his features, making him look almost demonic as he drew closer and closer to our hiding spot.
"Oh my god," I breathed, panic flooding back into my system like a dam had broken. "Keith, he's coming. He's actually coming over here. What do we do? What do I do? I can't let him see me like this. He's going to know. He's going to take one look at me and know exactly what we've been doing."
Keith, the absolute menace, had the audacity to look amused by my distress. He was leaning back in his seat now, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, watching me scramble like a mouse trapped in a corner with an expression of pure entertainment on his infuriatingly handsome face.
"Relax, Cinderella," he said, his voice dripping with the kind of calm that only came from complete and total confidence in one's own abilities to handle any situation. "You look fine."
"Fine?" I practically shrieked the word, my hands flying to my face as if I could somehow smooth away the evidence of our passion through sheer force of will. "Do I look fine? Do I really look fine to you right now? Because I feel like I look like I just survived a natural disaster."
Keith's smile widened, and there was something deeply satisfied about the expression, like a cat who had just knocked an expensive vase off a shelf and was now enjoying the resulting chaos.
"You look good for ravishing," he said, his voice dropping to that low, husky register that always made my knees weak. "You look like mine."
I didn't trust his assessment for even a second, so I twisted in my seat and looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
The gasp that escaped my lips was one of pure, unadulterated horror.
My lipstick, the beautiful deep red that had looked so elegant when I applied it hours ago, was now smeared across my face like a child's finger painting. There were traces of it on my chin, my cheeks, even a little bit near my nose where Keith's enthusiastic kissing had apparently spread it around like butter on toast. And my hair... god, my hair. It looked like I had been dancing tango in a stack of hay and then gotten into a fight with a blow dryer. Strands were sticking out in every direction, the careful curls now reduced to a tangled mess that defied all laws of physics and good taste.
I was a disaster. An absolute, complete, walking disaster who was about to come face to face with the Alpha King while looking like she had just survived a particularly enthusiastic encounter with a tornado.