Page 79 of The Keeper

“Did I do something wrong?” she finally asked. “We were getting along so well in the car, but you’ve been acting weird since we got here.”

“No, it’s not you. I just…” A whiff of familiar citrus teased my senses, and my focus slipped. I had to force myself not to follow the scent. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Whitney pursed her lips. On the other side of the garden, the DJ segued from cookie-cutter radio hits to a custom remix of the latest Riley K. chart-topper.

Whitney instantly perked up. “Oooh, I love this song!” She grabbed my hand. “Come on. You can make it up to me with a dance.”

I let her pull me to the DJ area. It was only half full, and my attention immediately snagged on Carina and Samson. They were swaying together, their faces an inch too close for comfort.

Whitney wound her arms around my neck. I acted on autopilot and placed my hands on her hips, but my eyes remained fixated on Carina.

Samson spun her so her back pressed against his chest. She laughed, reaching up and around to curl one arm around his neck while the other rested on top of his hand. Her head turned in my direction, and our gazes collided.

Her smile faltered. I could practically hear her breath hitch from across the floor, and the distance between us condensed into the slow, heavy beats of my heart.

The garden blurred. My mind felt hazy, my vision darkening at the edges as each thump of the bass drove logic and sanity further out the window.

Carina kept her eyes on mine as she lowered her arm, her hand trailing over Samson’s shoulder, bicep, and forearm to rest on top of his. Her expression sparked with a mix of challenge and barely concealed desire.

For me…or for him?

My blood burned a little hotter in my veins. I slid my hand slowly up the length of Whitney’s back, and I felt a perverse stab of satisfaction when Carina swallowed hard.

The air thickened.

The music escalated.

The crowd pressed closer.

Carina intertwined her fingers with Samson’s, a small movement that cut as quickly and effectively as a finely honed blade. My jealousy ballooned into a living, breathing thing that ate up every logical part of my brain.

She was so near, yet so far.

And despite knowing better…despite having another woman in my arms…I couldn’t look away.

CARINA

Samson’s hands were warm, and his hips swayed in rhythm with mine. He was a good dancer. He was a good kisser too.

But he wasn’t him.

An invisible string tethered my attention to the other end of the dance floor and resisted every attempt of mine to cut it. As a result, I was hyperaware of everything I should be ignoring.

Noah dancing with Whitney.

His hands on her hips.

His eyes on mine.

They carved a merciless path through my defenses, and I felt myself coming apart one heartbeat at a time.

One.

Two.

Three.

The invisible string cinched tighter, pulling me toward him, its length snapping taut against my resistance. Sweat coated my skin. My pulse thundered. The air flared and burned with every exhale.