By: Kim Karr

Everyone knows long-distance relationships never last.



There are socially acceptable behaviors for almost everything we do, and not so socially acceptable behaviors too.

For example, we all know that you don’t eat in a bank. You don’t talk in a library. And you don’t kiss in an elevator—unless you can’t take one more minute without the other person’s hot lips on yours, the feel of his hands all over you, or if the press of his body is something you can’t live without for another second.

Then you kiss in the elevator.

And I’m so going to kiss him.

The air crackles as Keen approaches me. He crosses from the right to the left, where passengers who have finally all exited the elevator had pushed me upon their entry. Separating us. Causing a pull neither of us can deny.

The walls inside are covered in mirrors, just like in the club, and I watch him from all angles as he pounces like a predator on the prowl. And then he is standing in front of me looking like he wants to devour me, and his hands are on me, and I swear I can’t find the air to breathe.

He’s possessive.



His fingertips trail over the middle of my thighs as he moves in between my legs and bends to brush his lips near my ear. “Kiss me,” he breathes, hot and heavy.

Control is a thing I always have—in my life, and with men. I say when, where, and how. I don’t succumb to orders, from anyone.

So I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m buzzed, or that this man is some kind of crazy aphrodisiac, but I don’t give a damn about control right now.

Almost ferociously, I grab hold of his face and pull him to me so I can crash my lips to his hungry mouth. And then he takes over. Moving his lips, thrusting his tongue, and demanding all I have to give.

Soon the kiss is out of control—wild and hurried and frantic.

Pressing me against the elevator wall, his heat seeps through my body, but I shiver nonetheless when his hands slip under the hem of my dress.

Roaming, his fingers drift around to my bare ass, my thong providing absolutely no coverage over my cheeks. “Oh, fuck.” Keen sucks in a breath when he feels the naked skin of my ass, and his hands continue to roam even more hurriedly. Up. Down. Like he can’t get enough of me, fast enough.





Thrilled by his physical reaction to my body, I bask in the feel of his rough, callused hands all over me. After lifeguarding, the one thing I know about myself for certain is that I am in good shape—no, not only good shape, great shape.

His free hand is around my neck and holding me in place. And the feel is so thrilling I can’t figure out where to put my hands on his body first, so I let him dominate me.

Soon, though, I find myself wanting to feel his skin equally as much as he wants to feel mine. To satisfy my need, I tug his shirt from the confines of his pants and try to push him back so I can run my hands up the smooth muscles of his chest.

Letting me push him only so far, Keen stops us in the middle of the elevator, looks at me with those blue eyes that have grown so dark, and then takes one of my hands and places it on the bulge of his erection.

I gasp in excitement at his alpha power play. I find it to be a thrill and a rush.

His terms.

I may explore his body on his terms.

I get it.

And I will go along with his rules—for now.

Slowly, he presses my hand more firmly against him and then he leans forward to speak into my ear. “Feel what you do to me? And we’re not even in your room yet.”

Right then I’m not sure I can stand on my own—my knees go weak and I swear the earth moves under my feet. I close my eyes and curve my hand over him. His pants are smooth under my fingers and beneath them I can most definitely feel his erection. I gasp again as he grows harder, hotter, beneath my touch.

His hand goes around to my neck and it tightens. “Do you, Maggie? Do you feel how much I want you?”

With a nod, I trace the outline of his huge cock.

Yes. Yes. Yes, I feel it.

The door dings open before I can come up with a suitable reply, other than heavy breathing and nodding, that is. Keen straightens, pulling me behind him immediately until he has a chance to make certain we are alone. Doesn’t want others to see me undone, I guess.

Luckily, no one is in sight.

With our lips attached, we make our way down the hall. He stops to push me up against the wall and feel my breasts. I pause to pull him to me so I can finally run my hands over every ripple and hard muscle of his torso.

All this pushing and pulling makes it take at least three times too long to get to my room, but it is so worth it.

At the door, I fumble for my card key in my purse.

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