By: Kim Karr

Francesca reaches around me for Keen, pressing her chest against my back and leaving it there. She might think this is going to turn into a threesome, but she has another thing coming.

It is so not happening that way.

I don’t share.

If he wants her, that’s fine, but he doesn’t get us both.

Well, it’s not fine, but you know what I mean.

Just then Keen grabs my hips in the tightest of holds, and as Taylor blares her vocals about how she knew he was trouble, I can’t help but feel the same.

His hands roam up my body and so do Francesca’s. His on my back and hers up my front.

An erotic sandwich that I’m not really digging.

My hair is up and when Keen’s hands reach my neck, he tugs the clip out. Straight blond locks tumble down around my shoulders, and he strokes his fingers through them for one moment, and that one moment shows the desperation in his stare.

Francesca’s fingers scratch across my arm and are now in my hair as well.

Ignoring her, I rise on tiptoes and whisper in his ear. “The date with your brother was just fake. For Cam and Makayla’s benefit. They’re into matchmaking lately.”

Keen’s expression is impassive for a second. “Does he know that?”

My palms linger on his chest and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart. “He does. I don’t deny that he has a little crush on me, but he is very clear there is nothing between us.”

Keen looks down at my hands on his chest, and then over to his brother, who has four hands all over him. “Just a crush. Nothing more?”

My fingers squeeze at the muscles beneath the white fabric of his shirt, and then I nod to his brother leaving the dance floor with a woman on each arm. “Nothing more.”

Just then Francesca taps me on the shoulder. Trying not to be annoyed, I turn just enough to face her. We are so close I can almost count the number of beads of clear glue sticking her false lashes to her lids. Just being real.

Noticing my stare, she bats those lashes at me.

Never having been in a situation like this, I do the only thing I can and smile at her.

In a total and unexpected move, she lurches forward with her entire body and kisses me.

Stunned, I stop dancing. I stop moving. I stop breathing. And my lips remain perfectly still. I’ve never kissed another girl before and honestly I was only playing around. I had no intention of making this a real threesome.

“No?” Francesca says, pulling away.

I shake my head, and then my eyes shift to Keen’s, who looks like he’s not breathing either. And I’m pretty certain it’s shock. I’m not getting any vibe that he is turned on in the least.

Francesca looks at me. She looks at Keen. She’s not a stupid girl and I think she figures out what’s going on fairly quickly. And then, like I need another matchmaker in my life, she tugs Keen by the wrist until he’s face-to-face with me. “Have a great night,” she says and dances herself right off the dance floor.

My fingers go to my lips. “She kissed me,” I say out loud in shock.

The bass thumps its pulse in the pit of my stomach and the crowd surges around me like they have no idea what just happened.

“It should have been my lips.” Keen’s voice is warm, hot, sex on a stick.

And then his lips are on mine. Moving, probing, licking, sucking. And then his hands are in my hair and his fingers are at the base of my skull, tipping my head back to get better access to my mouth.

Without realizing it we are in motion again and my hands are on his chest, tugging at the fabric to bring him closer. As if he wants that too, his hands slide down my body to the small of my back and he pushes me against him.

Dancing still.



And then, oh God, his cock is pressed against me. Hard, just like his kiss, and yet his lips are so soft. Hard and soft. Hard and soft. I can feel an ache building between my thighs, and something that sounds a lot like a gasp eases out of my throat.

Sliding his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “Come home with me.”

I lean back, watching as the purple lights from above glitter in his eyes and somehow magically erase the memory that the girl with red lips kissed me. Yes, that seems to be completely overtaken by the memory of Keen’s hot, wicked mouth.

He smiles at me. A man accustomed to being watched and no doubt used to getting his way. In me, though, he’s met his match, and I wait a heartbeat or two to answer him.

When I can’t take another minute without his mouth on mine, I nip at his lip and tell him, “I have a room here.”

Fast as sin, he grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd.

And the whole time, all I can think about is how I really like the feel of his hand in mine. Too bad he lives on one end of the country and I live on the other.

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