His gaze darkens, his fingers flexing into my backside that he’s now cupping. “Myla,” he whispers, my name a hot rasp of pure heat and passion, and when his mouth closes over mine, his tongue stroking deeply, I taste the lust in him, and it is the most amazing feeling to have that arouse me, not repel me. With him, I am human again. I am a woman again. I am me again.
He rolls to his back, taking me with him and I do not hesitate to meld my naked breasts to his chest, nor does he hesitate to cup my breast, to pinch my nipple. I kiss his neck, his shoulders, his lips. I kiss my way down to that deliciously ripped stomach of his, loving the way his hand goes to my head, but doesn’t push, tangle or hurt. It’s about arousal, about need, not sharing, not taking. And when I slide lower and take his cock in my hand and lick that salty proof of his arousal at the tip, the way his body stiffens, the way he makes this low, almost growl, has me wet and achy in ways I have not ached in oh so long, if ever.
“Good morning.”
Kyle’s deep, gravelly voice at my ear snaps me back to the present, his hand flattening on my belly. “Morning,” I whisper, and he shifts my hips, his obviously hard cock settling in the crux below my backside, where I am already wet with my memories.
His hands slide lower, fingers resting just above my clit without moving. “Do you–”
“Yes please,” I say, sounding breathless, feeling breathless, his fingers sliding lower, stroking my sex, and the instant he feels how ready I am, he makes another of those low, hot sounds he makes.
He pulls my legs toward my belly, arching around me, dragging his shaft up and down my sex, back and forth until he is pressing inside me, so damn hard it almost hurts, but oh so good. And once he’s there, his hand cups my breast, his lips find my ear. “You make waking up really damn hot, sweetheart.”
I don’t get to respond. I don’t know how I would if I could. Because he’s moving, stroking me with his cock in these long, slow, seductive moves, that steal away words and thoughts. There is just the two of us, our bodies joined, our breathing filling the air. And his hand travels my body, between my legs, teasing my clit, driving me wild. The hot burn in my belly gets hotter, my sex tighter, and I arch backwards into him, with the climb to that sweet spot that is on me in an instant. But what makes it even sweeter, is his low groan and the way we shudder and shake together. The way our bodies ease together. The way he slowly inches my legs downward so that they align with his, but doesn’t pull away.
“I don’t even have words for how much I liked that,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah?”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
He brushes hair from my face and kisses my temple. “Don’t move,” he orders. “I’ll grab you a towel.” He pulls out of me, and I inhale, letting out a contented breath, my mind going back to last night and his worries about me feeling regrets over him and us. And my promise that I have none, which I didn’t think he quite believed.
Kyle rounds the bed, pulling the blanket off of me, his dark blond hair a sexy rumpled mess, his green eyes warm with amber as they travel my body. His touch is gentle as he presses the towel he holds between my legs. “Good morning again,” he says again, helping me sit.
“Good morning,” I say, my cheeks heating and I am suddenly, impossibly shy with this man, in ways that defy all the humiliating things I’ve been through that should make that impossible.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” I say. The idea of sharing breakfast with him is comfortable and right in ways that take me back to last night. “But first. Can we talk about regrets?”
He goes very still. “What about them?”
“I could die before this is over and-”
“You’re not going to die.”
“Don’t say that. I appreciate you trying to make me feel safe and you do. More than I have in a long time, but let’s just be real for a minute. As long as we’re here, inside this world, there is an active threat for both of us, but that wasn’t even my point. My point is that you were worried about me regretting us. I want to make sure you know that I really meant it, Kyle. You saved me from dying with the taste of that man on my lips.”
His eyes soften, and he pulls me to him, brushing hair from my face. “Myla,” he breathes out, and there is emotion in his voice I can’t quite name…torment, maybe? I do not know but I want to find out, but I never get to try. It’s at that moment that my cellphone starts to ring, the sound ripping through me, a knife that bleeds reality, because it can only be one person. “No,” I whisper, my hands grabbing onto Kyle’s shoulders. “I don’t want to do this.” I push back from him. “I have to do this. I can. I will.”
“Deep breath,” Kyle says, reaching for my phone. “You can do this. You know how to do this.” He hands me the cellphone.
“Don’t watch me,” I say. “It’ll make me think he knows you’re here.”