If Looks Could Kill

Blue

If looks could kill, I would have died right there at Virginia Cooke’s Thanksgiving table. I thought my old man was good at freezing people out.

But he had nothing on Keegan’s grandma. It felt like the blood in my veins turned to ice the moment she realized who I was.

“You’re Bill Daniels’ son?” she snarled. “Bill Daniels of Bootstrap Enterprises?”

I’d just shoved a forkful of turkey and stuffing into my mouth, and I almost choked as she glared at me like I was a rodent scurrying across the floor.

When I managed to nod in response to her question, I half-expected her to throw me out right then and there. I think Keegan did, too.

Keegan’s face turned red, and she glared at her grandmother so ferociously I almost laughed. I’ve never seen her that angry.

The irony is that the two are almost mirror images of each other. They have the same features, the same coloring; even some of their mannerisms are the same.

Truth is, Keegan looks like a softer, younger version of Virginia Cooke. Much softer and much younger. But still. The resemblance is remarkable.

I plan to keep that observation to myself, though. Keegan would probably kill me if I said that to her.

I’m sneaking up to her room from the downstairs guest room, trying to find spots where the old wooden stairs don’t creak loud enough to wake the dead.

I didn’t have the guts to just brazenly share a room with her at the ranch. Not with her grandmother, father, and brother all staring after us when we said good night a couple of hours ago.

Oklahoma’s most powerful politician would really shit bricks if she knew my complicated sexual history with both Keegan and Kendra. Buick might not be too pleased either. So here I am, sneaking around like a horny teenager.

A cranky meow startles me, and I have to grab the railing to keep from tumbling over. It’s Virginia’s standoffish Siamese. The cat’s eerie blue eyes flash at me as he rushes through my legs and down the hall.

Virginia’s room is the closest to the top of the stairs. It would be my luck to wake her while I’m trying to slip into her granddaughter’s bed. The woman’s probably got a hit man on speed dial.

If I was smart, I’d be running for my life right now. But I’m not smart; I’m in love. And not even Virginia Cooke is going to chase me away.

Max—no doubt smelling the cat—starts barking from Keegan’s room, and I scramble the rest of the way to her door. “Max!” I hiss as I ease the door closed. “Be qu—” The words die on my lips.

Because all my mind—and my suddenly raging cock—can focus on is the gloriously naked girl sitting on the canopy bed in front of me, the flames from the room’s fireplace throwing flickering shadows on her skin. She’s smiling; she’s obviously been waiting for me.

She shakes her hair, and it cascades over her shoulder, over one breast. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Every once in a while, I seem to step out of myself, like those near-death experiences you hear about where somebody’s spirit rises out of their body and lingers, watching what’s going on.

Not to get too mystical, but that’s how it feels: like some other Blue steps out of my body and stands there looking at the other me, the one who is standing here gawking at Keegan.

And that other, shimmery Blue—the one without a hard-on, the one with a functioning brain—thinks: You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.

The same thing—except that it was one of the worst moments of my life instead of one of the best—happened to me back in Aziza’s village, when I felt the muzzle of the AK-47 pressing into my side.

In the hours that followed, it sometimes felt like I was outside my body, watching what was happening to it.

My back burns as the two moments—past and present—become intertwined. Not that I notice my back much at first. I’ve turned into a walking, throbbing penis.

But after I whip off my shirt and lift Keegan into my arms, she puts her hands on my back, and I can’t help crying out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s okay.” I kiss her. “You didn’t.” I carry her over to the fireplace, dropping down on my knees and laying her gently on the plush white carpet.

Ignoring my sizzling scars, I pull off my jeans and underwear, kicking them aside.

My mouth finds Keegan’s breast, sliding to the nipple, where I let my tongue linger as she arches her back and moans. I move to the other breast, nuzzling the side nearest the fire.

The skin’s warmer there, kind of smoky tasting.

She moans again and says my name, and I close my eyes, biting my lip so hard I taste blood. Better blood than the tears threatening to spill all over her body.

Just the sound of my name coming from her lips is enough to make me want to cry.

Fucking hell. Act like a man.

“Keegan.” I fall on top of her, kissing her mouth, chin, neck, stomach, running my hands and my face through her hair, dragging my lips down, all the way down, until my breath exhales against her thighs.

My tongue searches for the spot I’ve learned sends shudders throughout her body. And after a few minutes of working my magic, a bolt of electricity seems to lift her off the floor.

I fucking love being able to do that to her.

After a few more delicious moments, I stretch out above her. We’re both panting as I stare into Keegan’s eyes. They glow, reflecting the fire next to us. They’re soft, happy, full of life. So different from her grandma’s cold, dead gaze.

“Keegan.” I’m not even fully aware of forming words; they just seem to suddenly be there between us. “I never want this to end. I never want us to end.”

She melts her lips against mine.

“I love you,” I add, clenching her hands in mine and rolling on to my back, pulling her on top of me and closing my eyes as her hair tickles my cheeks. “Keegan.” There’s a tremor in my voice.

She kisses me and gives me that beautiful, soft smile.

“I never want this feeling between us to end,” I go on as she kisses me again.

“I love you, too, Blue,” she whispers. Her smile deepens she slides her body down mine.

Until, suddenly, I’m inside her, where it’s so unbelievably warm and tight and all-encompassing.

God, it’s the best feeling in the world.

I want to be far inside Keegan, so far that I stop being me, at least the me that ever has to be apart from her.

Several times in the last month, I’ve lain awake, wishing I’d never told her my deep, dark secret. I hated myself for being so weak that I needed to unburden myself to her, even if she insisted she wanted to hear it.

But other times, like right now, it feels so good to know she loves me, just as I am. To have nothing unsaid and unknown between us.

I don’t want to be the phony with a burning back. I don’t want to be Blue the failed hero.

Blue the lying coward. I want to start over. And when I’m with Keegan, when I’m inside and a part of her, I believe I can do that. I believe I can do anything. I believe I can put the past behind me.

“Keegan.” I can’t seem to stop talking.

She shushes me by lifting her head and, at the same time, grinding into me, and I make some kind of cartoonish wolf howling sound.

I think I do anyway. Or maybe I just hear it in my head.

We move together then, a slow sensual rhythm that Keegan is completely in charge of. I watch her—eyes closed, lips parted, hair falling across her face, almost oblivious to my presence—this girl who only a few months ago had been so uncertain and inexperienced.

Now she is using me as a very willing sex toy.

Keegan’s eyelids flutter, and she’s gasping, running her hands through her hair, down her neck, over her own breasts as flame shadows dance across them. She says my name, over and over.

I can’t hold off any longer; I stop thinking clearly. I know I call out Keegan’s name more than once. It’s blinding, white-hot bliss. And it’s loud.

But in that moment, neither of us cares.