Bedwrecker(7)

By: Kim Karr



“Jealous,” he says with a smirk.

I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t do jealous.”

He pulls me even closer, and I can feel the burn of his stare. I don’t dare look for fear that I will forever be trapped in his inferno.

Because to be honest, the room is still looking a little green. And yes, I know the lights are purple.

No. Never mind.

It’s just hot.

Too hot.

The whiskey was strong. It went to my head. Everything is too bright and pulsing and my heart is beating way too fast.

“So . . . what do you say the three of us dance?” Francesca asks when she wheels back around.

Saved by the floozy.

Keen and I look at each other.

Francesca sips her something-fruity concoction and then sets it down on the railing. “Come on. I really like this song.”

Suddenly dancing is all I want to do. “Sure, why not,” I say with a nod and let Francesca lead the way.

He can come or not. I don’t care. I look over my shoulder. Yep, he’s right behind me. And yes, I did care.

The three of us hit the dance floor just as Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” begins its distinctive beat.

Two Swift songs in one night.

How awesome.

She’s so my jam.

And this song couldn’t be more fitting.

The crowd surges around us, bouncing, thrusting, wiggling, grinding. Keen is in the middle. Someone is right behind me and I’m pressing my front to Keen’s back as he dances with Francesca. I can see her face over his shoulder, but it’s me she’s staring at, not him.

I let the music push and pull me, closing my eyes for a moment when the swirl of purple lights threatens to make everything spin. When I open my eyes Keen is moving, and soon he’s behind me with his hands on my hips. Francesca is in front of me, arms in the air, moving to the beat.

I toss my head to the right, and then to the left. Brooklyn is on the other side of the floor, dancing with the two other women I saw him with earlier.

Threesomes seem to be the theme of the night.

Expectation hums in the air as warm bodies jostle. Moving to the beat. Up. Down. Sideways. Soon my body is straining against Keen’s. I can feel the feral atmosphere around us spinning like whirlwinds at my sides, intoxicating me even more.

Tossing my arms up in the air like Francesca, I turn around and find Keen staring at me, his blue eyes dark, lashes thick, lids low. All I can do is stare back. Stare at that strong body hidden under the fine fabric of his white shirt. The way his muscles flex and move with every step. And then he turns to the beat and my eyes land on his tight ass, like forbidden fruit hidden beneath his fine slacks.

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.”

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