“Kyrie, I?—”
“I know,” he said. “Let go.”
And I did.
Everything in me shattered at once—my body, my breath, my grip on him. I cried out, his name falling from my lips over and over as waves of pleasure rolled through me so hard I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.
He didn't stop. He kept moving, kept pushing me through it, his hand still gripping my hip, his body still pressed against mine.
Then I felt him tense, heard him groan low and deep, and he buried his face in my neck as his whole body shuddered against me.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
Just breathing. Just holding onto each other.
Then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine again, and he kissed me. Soft this time. Slow.
Like we had all the time in the world.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yeah. I'm good.”
He smiled, just a little, and kissed me again. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel the need to run.
A FEW DAYS LATER…
I stepped out of the shower, and the steam followed me. Water dripped down my back while I stood there, towel in hand, staring at nothing.
Kyrie had been in my head for three days straight. I knew it was coming. We both did. The tension had been sitting between us since we first met, but I’d been the one playing games, acting like I didn’t want it.
I pulled on a pair of leggings and an oversized tee, something comfortable. The kind of outfit that said I’m not trying, even though I checked myself twice in the mirror.
Kyrie had a check-up today. His arm needed to be looked at to make sure it was healing properly, no infections, none of that. And I was the one taking him.
I grabbed my keys off the dresser and let out a slow breath before heading downstairs. Kyrie was already down there waiting on me, looking way too damn good for no reason. Grey Amiri sweats hung low on his hips, a black fitted tee stretched across his chest, and his curls were down around his face instead of pulled back.
Yeah… that man was fine as hell.
“Aight, I’m ready,” I said, trying to walk past him like he wasn’t sitting there distracting the hell outta me.
The second I stepped by him, his hand came down hard against my ass. A squeal slipped out before I could stop it, making his mouth twitch like he’d just won something.
Damn.
I already knew I shouldn’t have made that noise either. Kyrie loved shit like that. Fed off it.
Ever since he fucked me stupid on that kitchen counter a few days ago, he’d been acting like he lost his damn mind. Every chance he got, he was pulling me against him, grabbing on me, whispering slick shit in my ear. And me? I’d been dodging him on purpose because I already knew if I gave in again, that man wasn’t gon’ let up.
Once we made it outside, I helped him over to the car. Soon as I reached for the passenger door, Kyrie cut his eyes at me.
“There yo’ ass go again,” he muttered.
I laughed under my breath and opened the door anyway. “Boy, get in the car.”
He shook his head but slid inside without arguing anymore. I walked around to the driver’s side, got in, and started backing out the driveway.
“What I told you about opening doors for me like I’m handicapped or some shit?” he asked, looking over at me.
