Chapter 7
It’s the pitter-patter of ran hitting the window that Keith fucked me against last night that wakes me. I rub my eyes, my body pleasantly sore as I stretch, and glance towards the sleeping man beside me.
Even with the gray sky outside and dim lights inside, I can make out the angles of his handsome face and the rise and fall of his rock-hard chest. I stifle a yawn as I sit up, realizing I stole all of the blankets during the night.
It’s a bad idea trying to be vertical. The liquor I consumed last night does a somersault inside me, and I don't know if I want to vomit again or bury my head in the sheets. Sex curbed the effects of the liquor for a while, giving me an outlet, but now that it’s morning all the mixology I indulged in is duking it out in my stomach.
I grunt and press my hands to my head, a killer headache working its way all around my skull.
I’m definitely regretting that party last night.
But not where it led me. Without bad decisions, I wouldn’t have met Keith. I probably would have partied and slept with one of the local guys, which meant I never would have met Keith on that lonely highway road.
Drinking didn’t just give me courage. It muddled my senses and let me make the idiotic mistake of getting into the trunk because Lisa thought it would be a good idea.
My mouth is bone dry, and even though Keith gave me some water and crackers after we cleaned up, I barely touched either before stumbling into bed and passing out. Last night was a lot, and I needed sleep above all else.
My phone flashes beside me, and I forgot that he brought my things in here before we bathed. Keith in the bathroom was just as fun as Keith against the fucking window, and the soreness between my legs is a welcome reminder of this adventure.
The light hurts my eyes but I click on the notifications on my phone anyway, eyeing a message from my sister.
My parents haven’t blown up my phone after the storms last night, so I’m guessing dropping my location to her eased her mind enough to cover for me.
If not, I would have plenty of missed calls by now.
I send her another location drop, letting her know that I’m alive and well, and try to close my eyes again against the raging headache. How I wish I had paced myself better.
Squirming down in the messy sheets, I roll back and forth.
I’m not usually this restless, but between the massive headache and the realization that it’s morning I can’t lay still.
That contract Keith handed me yesterday seemed like a one-night-stand kind of thing. Is he expecting me to be gone already?
“You move a lot in the mornings,” Keith grumbles, his voice heavy with sleep. “Snuggle in, Hayden. No rush.”
I nibble my lip but keep my eyes closed. It’ll hurt too much to open them up again anyway. “You… don’t expect me to get up and go?”
He groans, and I squeeze my eyes shut harder because now it’s really tempting to look at him. I shouldn’t show my insecurities like this to a near stranger. It’s harder to be honest with my feelings than my lust.
Keith’s hand lands on my arm, and despite myself I relax into the touch. He hasn’t given me a reason to not trust him yet. “Rejection doesn’t look good on you, girly. I’m not going to kick you out at the crack of dawn.”
I almost retort that it seems like we’re past the break of dawn, but bite my tongue instead. He sounds tired and maybe slightly annoyed, but not grouchy. “I just thought with the contract—”
“The contract is there to ensure we both understand this is meant to be fun,” Keith cuts in, and I feel his hand sliding down into mine. “Just in case you wanted to suddenly live here or something.”
I snort. “In a bachelor pad? I’ll pass.”
Keith chuckles. “I don’t see you as a clingy type of girl, Hayden.
Not from what I saw yesterday. The contract protects both of us, which is the point of the OGB existing.
I’m not going to just shove you out the front door.
Unless someone needs you right now, rest for a few more hours.
Eat something. Maybe look around the house when you’re sober and can appreciate it. ”
“Oh, boastful are we?” I ask dryly, but I can’t help but smile. It’s like the least cocky form of gloating I think I’ve ever heard. The house is nice, and huge, and I imagine it’s a point of pride for him. “I mean if you aren’t going to protest me snooping…”
“I won’t,” he says, but I feel him getting out of bed, his hand slipping from mine. That unease returns. “Rest. Eat toast. Drink water. Sleep some more. When you’re feeling better, I can take you anywhere you want to go.”
I bite my lip and nod instead, regretting the motion immediately.
My poor head really wants to succumb to sleep again.
Where I want to go is here. I want to stay in this bed for the rest of the day and get dicked down by Keith again this evening.
I’m not expecting commitment from a stranger I met during a storm.
I just want a little more time to have fun.
But realistically, I’m hungover and tired and would kill for something more comfortable than tight jeans. I’d love to bathe with my sensitive skin products and all my hair care stuff. Things that I simply won’t find here.
Keith stays quiet, and I almost think he’s left the room until he speaks again. “I put some medicine on the table for your head. Eat before you take those. I have a few things I need to see to, but when you’re feeling better, we’ll head out.”
That feels like the beginning of goodbye.
Keith is ready to cut ties, and I can’t say I blame him.
Last night was fun, and hot, and it’s definitely going to remain in my head for a long time to come.
But it doesn’t seem like he’s eager to play again.
I can hear his footsteps retreating, and I lick my lips before responding into the silence. “Okay. See you soon.”
~~~
I figured Keith was done messing around after this morning, and when he doesn't come looking for me, it seems I was right.
Still, the time alone gives me a chance to pull myself together.
I take some meds, drink some water, eat a little, and slowly start to feel like myself again.
I clean up, finally wiping away the smudged, caked-on makeup that's been clinging to my face.
Untangling my hair and braiding it back gives me a small sense of control.
By the time I head out to find him, I feel a bit more human.
The house is grand, parts of it looking more like a staged home for sale than a lived-in place. Before we passed out he mentioned having several homes. Maybe having multiples makes each space less personal to him. It’s beautiful but parts of the home are cold.
Exploring his house definitely feels like snooping, but he didn’t complain earlier when he was chasing me, so I take full advantage of it.
The place has probably a dozen rooms and seems to be rancher style.
I haven’t found a set of stairs anywhere, and I’ve done a fair bit of exploring.
The backyard is kind of like a courtyard, with an expensive patio filled with furniture that luckily didn’t blow away during the storms.
I can hear Keith talking, and I purposefully avoid that room until I’ve looked around the whole house.
I know he mentioned he isn’t usually at this place since he travels a lot, so there isn’t much to discover during my snooping.
Most of the decorations are staged, and there isn’t much of a personal touch anywhere in the home.
It makes me curious what details I’m missing about him.
Where does Keith live if he’s usually experiencing this nomadic lifestyle?
Or does he have one main house that’s more personal than the others?
Licking my lips, I know I’m prolonging the inevitable.
This has been, without a doubt, the wildest night of my life.
And it’s thanks to Keith intervening. I thought getting into the trunk would change my life, and it did.
It gave me the chance to cross paths with Keith, and I can’t regret that.
I’m just sad that the end is nearly here.
I knock on the door, guessing it’s his office, and hear his voice stall mid-conversation. He doesn’t call out for me to come in, so I shift awkwardly on my heels, unsure if I should just let myself in. But I don’t, because it doesn’t feel like we’re at that level.
A moment later, the door swings open, and I hadn’t even realized he was walking toward it. He’s got a phone pressed to his ear and gives me a quick wink before motioning for me to step inside.
“Yeah, I hear you, Beck. We can upload everything later this week and compare footage.”
Oh, that makes sense. He’s talking to his team. I fiddle with my phone as I sit down across from him, the desk between us, and eye the screen. The only person who cared where I was, out of all of my friends, was my sister. And I literally sent my location to her.
Some of the people at the party have my number, but none of them have reached out. Maybe I’m expecting too much from that crowd. There’s nothing from anyone, not even Scott or Lisa, the ones who talked me into getting in the trunk. I guess that says all I need to know.
“Yeah,” Keith continues, and I tune into his conversation. “I still have one to sign and then I’ll head out. Don’t wait for me, I’ll meet up with you when I can.”
I look at him curiously when he hangs up the phone.
I’m still getting used to seeing Keith in full lighting since most of our time together last night was in the shadows.
His face is rugged, the beard really giving him a distinguished look that contradicts the wildness of chasing storms. His eyes are bright as he studies me, leaning back in his desk chair as he raises a brow.
He’s wearing a t-shirt and another pair of jeans. It makes me wonder about the underwear he stole, but I can’t quite make myself ask. “Things okay?”
Keith laughs. “Things are fine, Hayden. I’m making plans for later. Are you feeling better?”
From the dicking or the hangover? I wonder to myself. I wet my lips and stare at him, unsure what he’s hinting at before responding. “I’m okay.”
He nods, reaching across the desk to capture my hand. His thumb brushes across my knuckles, and I relax at the touch. “Hayden, if you’re under the impression that I aim to dismiss you, I want you to abandon that train of thought.”
My eyes widen. “Why—”
“You have a very expressive face,” he tells me, the corner of his mouth hooking up into a smirk.
“You aren’t acting clingy or begging or doing anything that I associate with a problematic person.
You're just acting like I’ve sidelined you.
Is it because I’m not affectionate when I sleep?
I’m not a cuddler, you need to know that.
But with the way you slept last night, I don’t think cuddling was an option anyway. ”
He has a point. Other than the sheet there was very little on his side of the bed when I woke up. “I didn’t… cuddling isn’t a big deal to me.”
He raises a brow. “So you aren’t feeling dismissed because I let you rest and didn’t fuck you again this morning?”
God, why is he so direct? I’m used to the avoidance tactic, where people ask speculative questions and pretend to not know what you’re talking about. Keith just asks directly, and it’s disarming. “I, um… I’m not being dismissed.”
“Correct,” he agrees. “Just because I have enough control to let you rest and explore doesn’t mean I want you less, Hayden.”
He gives me a pointed look and I blush, letting his words roll over in my head. I kind of like that he ravished me thoroughly and then let me do my own thing for a while after. He's talking to me like we're equals and I love that.
“I have this for you,” he continues, handing over an envelope. I’m confused for a moment before the letters OGB catch my attention in gold across the front. “It’s a copy of your contract. One will be emailed as well if you would like.”
I nod stiffly. It definitely sounds like a goodbye.
Keith studies me, and I wonder what he sees now that it’s light. A lost college girl, or maybe a dramatic meet cute that he’s going to forget about by tomorrow? It’s impossible to read him.
After a moment he stands, circling the desk as he slides his cell phone into his pocket. He pauses beside me, and I tilt my head up to stare at him. “I have something else for you too.”
“Another contract?” I ask immediately, and his brows shoot up. “Just… an idea.”
Keith grins. “As much as I want to see you again, girly, I have a few things to take care of. I told you the OGB is a society with many means, and sometimes my associates hire me to help them out. There’s something I need to take care of next week.”
I frown. A secret society hiring a member to do something sure sounds interesting. What does Keith do when he isn’t storm chasing?
Winking, he offers his hand and helps me stand up. There’s something in his palm, and he flips his hand over to reveal it. “It’s a card, Hayden. So you can contact the OGB again if you ever want to meet up.”
Not his personal number? I glance down, seeing the contact information, and a second number with his name penned in below that. My eyes meet his again.
“Of course, if you want to meet up again to get these back from me,” he continues, my eyes popping when the green lace panties from yesterday appear from his other pocket, “you can call me personally.”
They look clean, and I can’t fathom when he had time to wash them. “You’re keeping my panties?”
“You’ll probably want them back sometime,” he tells me with a smirk, “since this is a… personal souvenir. You can phone me when you want to come to collect.”
I purse my lips, looking around the office. Everything feels so calm yet uncertain between us now that we aren’t juggling a storm. “So I’ll see you again?”
“Of course,” he says with a laugh, the lace disappearing back into his pocket. “You can call me the next time you want to drive into the eye of the storm.”
That sends heat rushing through my body. Storms, sex, it’s all going to remind me of Keith for a long time after this. “The storm. I definitely want to see another storm with you.”
“Then it’s a date, girly,” he tells me with a smile. “I’ll drive you home, and you call me the next time you need a little danger in your life. You don’t need those kids to show you how to live.”
I smile, wrapping an arm around his neck for a kiss. His hands linger on my waist, sliding down to cup my ass, and desire returns. Perhaps I’m not leaving quite yet. “Then trust me, Muscles. I’ll be calling you again for my next rush, as soon as the next storm blows through.”