On Paper (32 page)

“Quinn, I never,” I interrupted.

“I’m not finished,” she said, cutting me off. I shut up. “My reaction this morning might not have been convenient and it might not have been the cool girlfriend thing to do, but it was real. And it wasn’t just about trust. It was more that I felt like you weren’t making us important. You were just slipping into your party role without giving us a second thought. Without giving me a second thought. Or about how I would feel. And it hurt because I know I would never want to put you in a situation like that, where you had to see me draped over some other guy, drunk out of my mind. Think about it, Keaton, how would you have reacted had the situation been reversed?” she asked.

I couldn’t even answer her, because she was right. I’d have lost my mind.

“I’m sorry I judged you on your past. But I’m not sorry for reacting the way I did. I reacted because I care about you and about us.”

“You’re right. I fucked up. And I didn’t know how to fix it,” I said, my voice came out sounding rough.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to end it?” she asked quietly.

“No. I was just being cruel. Trying to beat you to it I guess. I don’t want to lose you. I know I hurt you, baby. It kills me. I want to fix it. I just, I don’t know how.”

Her silence was killing me. The truth was I didn't know how to do any of this. I was good with the easy stuff, not so much the work that relationships require. It's why Quinn threw me for a loop. Half of my heart was ready to jump in and work to be everything she needed or deserved. The other half knew what a selfish prick I was and was just waiting for the best time to run.

"Say something," I urged.

"I'm still sorting it all out," she admitted. Her honesty held my chest in a vice grip.

"I know I'm not easy to be with sometimes. I'm moody, I'm selfish and I can be completely preoccupied. I don't know how to do this, Quinn, but I'm trying. I want to try." I waited through more silence.

"Okay," she said finally.

"Okay?" I asked, just needing her to reassure me.

"Okay. But you have to talk to me next time. I can deal with a lot of shit, Keaton, but not the way you treated me today. We're going to fight. We're going to disagree. Don't shut me out when we do," she said.

"Okay," I offered back. It was all I could get past the lump in my throat.

"So, tell me about your trip," she said. And just like that the storm had passed. I settled back against my headboard and told her everything. The way I should have from the beginning.

TODAY WAS A
big day. Huge. I had two interviews and I was pretty sure I might vomit before they started. I was hoping the vomit would come first. Somehow I doubted puking in the trashcan during was going to win me any points. I was just so nervous. It's normal I guess. You leave college thinking anything is possible and then you step out into the real world and realize it's not nearly as rosy as you had hoped.

Real life is scary. Being a grown up, making grown-up decisions and becoming a real member of society with actual responsibility was down right terrifying if you really stopped to think about it. Maybe that was my problem; I needed to stop thinking about it.

"Babe, are you going to puke?" Keaton asked me. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands on my knees, staring straight ahead and taking deep breaths. In. Out. At the sound of his voice I looked up and met his eyes. That just caused my breath to stop all together. He leaned against the doorjamb of the bathroom doorway wearing only a towel. I'm not sure I'd ever get used to seeing him that way. He was beautiful. My eyes lingered on his chest, the well sculpted lines, the firm, taut skin that begged to be touched, kissed, and worshiped. The way he felt when he moved over my body, the way he arched as my nails moved along his back, the weight of him as he collapsed against me, spent.

I heard his soft chuckle and my gaze moved back to his face, focusing in on the amused look there. "Well, I think the fear of puke is gone for the moment," he said moving towards me. "But, fuck, Quinn, you look so goddamn sexy when you get that hungry look in your eyes." He moved across the room deliberately and I had barely taken a breath when he had me pushed back onto the unmade bed, kissing me as I fell.

This was the perfect distraction to my worry. Maybe I could take him with me and when I started to feel nervous he could grab me up and do this. That wouldn't be weird. I'm sure that kind of thing happened all the time. I laughed a little at the thought and Keaton pulled back to look down at me.

"Are you seriously laughing at me?" he asked. His towel had slipped away from his hips and I slid my fingers across his hips and gave his ass a squeeze.

"No, I was just thinking how nice it would be if I could take you with me today and when I got nervous and wanted to puke you could kiss me and make it all go away," I said, smiling up at him.

"You want to take me with you?" he mused.

"Everywhere. Do you have plans? I'm going to need you at my beck and call," I said.

He pretended to think about it seriously. "What happens if you get nervous in the middle of the interview and I have to come in to distract you and I start kissing your neck," he said demonstrating the way he would run his mouth along my skin from my shoulder up to my ear. "And you get so turned on that you make that little moan that you do? Because we both know that when you make that little moan I have no control over what I do next. I will have to take you right there on the desk of some editor. Do you think that would help or hurt your chances?" he asked as he continued to kiss me along my collarbone.

"That depends," I sighed.

"On?" he asked, his mouth moving lower to kiss the cleavage above my cami.

"On if she gets to see your ass. Because if she gets to see your ass then I'm sure that I'd be shoe in just for the show," I said.

"You want your new boss to see my ass?" he asked, stopping to look at me with faux shock.

"Hey, if it gets me the job," I teased giggling.

"Oh is that how it is?" he asked, grinding into me. I could feel him, hard against my sleep shorts. I pushed up into him, wanting to feel him move against me, to feel the friction there. His teasing kisses were leaving me wanting. The moan fell out on a sigh as he pushed against me.

"Now you've done it," he said, pushing my hands up over my head. He gave me a stern look, daring me to move them before moving his large hands across my stomach and pushing the top up and over my head.

"I have to get ready. I can't be late," I protested weakly.

"You should have thought about that before you let that sexy little moan escape. I warned you, I can't control myself. It's your own fault. You did this. You're mine now." He left my hands above my head, instructing me to keep them there and then he ran his hands across my body until he reached the tiny shorts. "These are going to need to go," he said. I loved when he was teasing. I loved that he could be playful and passionate at the same time. Yeah, Keaton Harris was most definitely the best kind of distraction.

I WALKED OUT
of my interview feeling pretty good. Somehow, I'd managed to hold on to my nerves and form words that actually went together in meaningful sentences. There'd been a good rapport with the group I'd interviewed with and it felt like a great place to start my career. Now I just had to wait to see if they agreed.

I stepped out into the harsh sunlight, shielding my eyes. As soon as I was able to focus I saw him, leaned against a street sign with his hands in his pockets, casual, yet somehow also looking like he was posing for a magazine shoot. I'd guess People’s Fifty Most Beautiful People or Sexiest Man Alive. I think he could win both. I smiled, it overtook me as I ran into his arms.

"You waited," I sighed taking in his scent. If I could bottle it, I'd be set for life.

"Of course I waited, silly girl, where else was I going to go?" He kissed the top of my head and I felt warmth spread all the way down to my toes. "So, how did it go? Did they offer you the job right away?" he asked.

I laughed, "Pretty sure it doesn't work that way."

"They should have. Idiots," he teased.

"It went well. I liked them. It seems like a really nice company. We'll wait and see. I'll keep at it until someone says yes."

"I want them to say yes right now, so you can just stay here," he said quietly. I rested my chin against his chest and looked up at him. He gave me a soft smile.

"Me too," I admitted. It was hard when each visit had a definitive end. Each beginning, as happy as it was started a timer; so each moment was racing against the end, against the buzzer. I couldn't wait until we could exist without the constant clock. I couldn't wait to be with him whenever I wanted and not worry about having to leave.

"Let's walk, we can go get some lunch or something," he said, offering me his hand. I slid mine into it and we started down the busy street. I didn't even mind the hustle that existed around us, because when I was walking with him it felt like it was just us.

After lunch I had Keaton take me to one of the farmer's markets so I could pick up a few things. Keaton had mentioned that he needed to get a little bit of writing done. I knew he hated to do it while I was here, but he had deadlines to meet. I was fine with it. Honestly, I was excited at the idea of taking over his kitchen and making us dinner. I grabbed some fresh veggies and some homemade bread and we started back to the apartment.

"So when you move here are you going to make me dinner all the time?" he asked as we loaded into the elevator.

"Depends on how nice you are," I shrugged.

"Nice? Do you like it when I'm nice?"

I threw him a flirty look. And his lip curled into a mischievous grin.

"Stop your scheming," I warned.

"What scheming?" he asked innocently.

"You think I don't know what that look means?" I asked.

"Tell me," he said.

The elevator opened in front of us and I moved past him without giving him a glance. I heard him snicker behind me. I stood next to his door and watched as he shifted the bags in his arms as he stalked towards me. That was the only thing I could think to call it. He looked like a predator. A sexy domestic predator. Only he could look so sexy and in control carrying groceries.

I watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for me to enter. He followed me into the kitchen and set the bags onto the counter. I set to taking things out of the bag, but squealed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist.

"You haven't answered my question," he growled as his mouth fell to my throat. His hands gripped my hips, digging in and pulling me back against him.

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"Depends on if it's working," he admitted.

I laughed and turned towards him so he could kiss me properly. His mouth was warm as it brushed across my lips before kissing me softly. He was slow, taking time to provide me his full attention. The man had skills.

"Have I told you how sexy I think it is that you are making me dinner?" he asked, his lips pressed just beneath my ear.

"Oh, well then I'm going to have to get domestic more often,” I said.

"I should lay you across this counter right now," he said. I felt the electricity shoot through me at his suggestion. His hands moved to my face, a palm on each cheek and he stared at me with that suggestive gaze that always left me reeling.

He moved closer and I readied myself for what was coming next.

He kissed my nose and stepped back suddenly, "But I have to write and you have to cook . . . so maybe some other time." He started to move away and head down the hall. I heard his chuckle as I stood in a dazed silence.

I turned just before he disappeared from sight. "This is what you call being nice?" I called out. He turned to throw me one of his famous Keaton Harris smiles. "You suck," I finished.

I heard his laughter fade down the hall. If this was a glimpse at my future I was more than ready to sign up.