Free Inarticulate by Eden Summers

tomorrow.
    No matter how much body parts south of the equator protested at the thought.

Email
    Date: 20 th December
    Subject: Do you remember the first night we met?
    S avannah ,
    I’m not poetic or romantic. I’m barely civil most days, but you nudged at those frozen parts of me and made me wonder what it would be like to be different.
    From the first night we met, you captivated me with your non-bullshit attitude. You infuriated me, yet with equal ferocity, you intrigued me. I couldn’t ignore you, no matter how much I wanted to. There was too much fire and enthusiasm in your hazel eyes.
    Your infatuation was worse.
    No other woman has looked at me like a puzzle strewn across the floor, waiting to be pieced together. I’ve always been seen as a completed picture—a skewed image that would forever be a shitty addition to a flawless collection. My faults make others feel better about themselves.
    But not you. You never showed superiority over me. Not even at your worst. I only witnessed your affection and eventually your anger that hid the heartache.
    I admit, the night of the bonfire wasn’t my first mistake when it came to you, it just feels like one of my biggest. I was annoyed that you’d stayed on my mind all week. It was out of character for me to let a woman control any piece of me. Yet you did without even being present. Then you showed up in your rental car, completely impeccable in casual clothes and no make-up, and set the bar for beauty without even knowing it.
    Leading you inside, kissing you, seducing you, it was impulsive. It was a mistake. If only I’d denied the carnality that always seemed to drag us under, things never would’ve become this complicated.
    While you were in the bathroom, I escaped to the back door, grasped the handle, and contemplated leaving you to find your own way to the bonfire. It would’ve saved a lot of pain if I did. I knew there was no future for us. Nothing apart from gratification.
    Only I couldn’t deny wanting to taste every inch of you, touch every nerve, and inhale every one of those feminine gasps that made my cock pulse. I wanted to own you. To consume you the same way you were consuming me.
    The fury was overwhelming as I held that door handle. I hated the effect you had on my libido. Worse was the response from more emotional parts of my body. I would’ve killed to come to your defense when Penelope insulted you. To be your knight in shining armor, as it were. But how? Through pantomime? That would’ve been fucking hilarious, right?
    Instead, I tried to make it up to you through touch—the only thing I seemed to excel at when it came to us. I could’ve told you there was no need to be quiet. The house was vacant, but establishing a level playing field was an opportunity I couldn’t deny. And what I had planned didn’t require conversation. I wanted your body, not your words. Your acquiescence, not your intrigue. Most of all, I wanted you to experience passion from my perspective. To strip the sensations down to pure carnality. Devoid of placating dribble and nonsensical dialogue.
    I wanted you and me and nothing else.
    Only something happened to me that night. I didn’t like it, nor did I want to allow it. You wove your delicate fingers around my consciousness and still haven’t let go.
    I need to see you. I need to explain. Please message me back and let me know you’re receiving my messages.
    Keenan

Chapter Nine
    S avannah rested her elbows on the tiny suite desk and tried to pretend the bedside clock wasn’t glaring at her from the other side of the room. Today was meant to be a day of rest. Instead, her Sunday had been filled with panicked phone calls from staff and impromptu meetings with management to discuss how to handle the latest Grandiosity bombshell.
    Evidently, Penny did work on weekends.
    Savannah spared one last glance over her shoulder at the bedside clock—7:25 p.m.—then sighed as she swung back around to re-read the email sitting