Page 73 of Kyle

“No shit?” He sounded shocked and he should’ve been.

God knows I was.

“When you came in, I was embarrassed. I knew why he’d reacted that way, but I was too busy trying to process why I wasn’t freaking out to tell him I was okay.”

“He’d like to hear that. He thought he hurt you.”

“God no,” I sighed. “I’m trying, Kyle. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please be patient with me.”

There, I’d said it. I took a huge chance and I’d asked for what I needed. But as the silence stretched between us, nerves set in.

“I’m waiting for you to look at me,” he said, and when I did, I was so taken aback I had to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m gonna say this once more. We got nothing but time, and you take as much of it as you need. All I ask is for you to trust me. Straight up, sweetheart, you know I want to explore a relationship with you. There’s no denying I’m attracted to you both physically and emotionally. Just trust me to take us where we need to go. And, Anaya, you never need to ask me to be patient. But you need to be patient with yourself.”

“Will you kiss me?”

Yeah, I really liked this new woman who had the courage to ask for what she needed. And now that I’d tried her on for size, I found that not only did she fit, but it was tailored. Like a second skin that settled over the old and wrapped around my soul.

Kyle’s gaze heated, and I liked that a whole lot, too. I liked that he didn’t hide his emotions from me. I liked that he was honest and said what was on his mind, but I also liked the way he looked at me when he thought I was being brave. I liked it so much I vowed to do it more.

His lips pressed against mine and I really wished my ribs would hurry up and heal. I knew Kyle was holding back, not wanting to hurt me. And I was totally looking forward to him letting go.

Chapter 22

I was lying in bed staring up at a dark ceiling, not wanting to move and wake a still-sleeping Anaya. And just like every morning, in an effort to calm my morning hard-on, I woke before her and willed my dick to cooperate. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. And it seemed this was one of those mornings it wasn’t.

It had been a little over a week since the night Anaya had asked me to be patient with her. A week of watching her open up to Emerson, Tatiana, and the guys. Seven days of watching her flourish. It was fucking beautiful to see.

There was this whole other side of her that she’d kept buried so deep that she looked stunned every time it came out. The woman was hilarious, her one-liners and witty comebacks when the guys were teasing her were priceless.

Emerson and Tatiana had done exactly what I’d said they’d do and had firmly pulled Anaya into the sisterhood. Those three were thick as thieves. And the silent conversations that Anaya had mentioned she’d been jealous of rivaled the nonverbal communication the team and I shared while on a mission. They could have an entire discussion with facial expressions.

She and Dec had had words about what had happened in the kitchen. They’d gone out back and were out there for hours talking. I didn’t ask what the conversation entailed, but after that night a bond had been forged and for the first time, I’d witnessed Declan relaxed. Or as much as a man who carried the burdens he did, could be.

“Morning,” Anaya mumbled.

Her breath fanned over my bare chest. She nuzzled in closer and kissed my pec before her hand started to glide up and down my stomach. This was one of the reasons I struggled to will away my erection. Every morning she did the same thing and every morning I tried to brace against the onslaught and failed. Her hands felt so fucking good on my skin there was no hope of hiding my reaction to her.

But she was getting bold in her exploration. At first her touch was timid and slow. Shy in her investigation of my chest and stomach. Now, it was firm and demanding.

“Mornin’,” I returned, and placed my hand over hers as she traced the waistband of my shorts.

That was something new. The last two mornings, she’d made her way lower.

“Stop doing that,” she whispered.

“Doin’ what?”

“Stopping me when I want to touch you.”

Oh, hell no. She could touch all she wanted above the belt, so to speak. My good intentions were being tested with every kiss, every slow glide of her hand, every sound she made when my lips were on her. My need for this woman was unreal. Nothing like it. I wanted to lay her out and taste and touch every part of her. I wanted to fuck her, make love to her, and everything in between. But part of me loved the torture of anticipation.

“You can touch all you want,” I told her and moved her hand higher into safer territory.

“Not where I really want to.”

I realized my error too late. I should’ve kept my hand over hers. But I hadn’t and she moved too quickly.

“Anaya,” I groaned as her hand moved over my hard-on. Thankfully, it was over my shorts, but damn, the friction felt good. “We should get out of bed,” I suggested.