Page 77 of Kyle

Her whimpers turned into impatient moans and I rubbed harder, faster, until her nails clawed my back and she lost the control she was fighting hard to keep.

“Let go, baby, come for me.”

She broke and I slammed my mouth onto her and swallowed her scream. Her pussy spasmed before it became impossibly tight and I lost it. Lost myself, lost my control, and lost my heart.

There was nothing about Anaya Baker I couldn’t love.

If I’d been a different sort of man, maybe I would’ve had a chance to fight her pull. Maybe if I was stronger, I could’ve held back and not started to fall. But I wasn’t, and when I looked down into her hazy, satisfied, lust-filled eyes, I knew then I didn’t want to be any other kind of man. Because that man wouldn’t be worthy of such beauty.

Chapter 23

“Anaya,” Kyle called down the basement stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Zane and Ivy are here.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I finished pulling my shirt down and smiled. It had been another great week.

The team was a little frustrated they still hadn’t gotten the green light to take out Harry Landry, but Garrett and Tex were getting closer to unraveling Harry’s business dealings. I understood the need to keep the man alive while they decided his ultimate fate, but it turned my stomach thinking about what he was doing while he was still allowed to roam free.

Kyle explained there was an undercover CIA agent following his every move. They wanted Harry six feet under but they also wanted intel on the rest of his operation. Thankfully, they were getting close. At least that’s what Tex had said when he called in last night.

It had also been a week of really great mornings. Seven days ago, I’d told Kyle I was ready for sex, and once that seal had been broken, Kyle decided it wasn’t only broken, it was obliterated. We’d had sex in the bed, sex in the shower, sex bent over the bed, sex while he sat in the chair and I rode him. It was like a sex marathon. He was creative, he had stamina, and I couldn’t get enough.

But it was more than really great orgasms. No matter how hard or rough Kyle took me, it was laced with such care and beauty he may as well have been making sweet, slow love to me. Though he did that, too. But I swear, and I still don’t understand how it was possible, but when he touched me, gentle, soft, demanding, it was still… more. Every time we came together it was emotional. We were connecting. We were communicating.

I’d never had this. I’d never trusted anyone enough to let go and be myself. I could be any way I wanted to be in bed and out of it and Kyle made it safe for me to do so. He was demonstrative with his affection, both with words and actions.

He told me every day, several times a day, how beautiful I was. How strong. How brave. He talked to me about his job like I was an equal. We’d gone over Monica’s file together and he never got impatient with my questions, he never treated me like I was an idiot when he had to remind me about Omni and Harry Landry’s connection. There was a lot of information to process and he remained tolerant and even asked for my opinion.

So when I said it had been a week of really great mornings what I really meant was, it had been a really great week, period. Everything about it was wonderful. Everything about Kyle was beyond my imagination. Better than any book boyfriend. Better than any hero ever written. Better because he was mine. Just mine.

It was so good in fact, I was now waiting for the shoe to drop, or the curtain, or whatever drops when the bad shit creeps in. And I told Kyle this. His response was ‘you promised me all of you’. I had promised him that, and I was keeping it. I hadn’t hidden anything. Which was scary and freeing, and I was learning it was also exciting.

Remembering Zane was upstairs, I smoothed my shirt and grabbed a hairband off the dresser before I headed up the stairs. When I made it to the living room there was some sort of standoff in progress.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing around the room.

Zane was holding his son close to his chest. Ivy was standing next to him shaking her head and Tatiana and Emerson were standing in front of him looking agitated.

“Go make your own,” Zane growled.

“It’s official. You’ve lost your mind,” Ivy muttered.

“Come on, Zane. Just let us hold him,” Tatiana said.

“Hell no. He’s mine.”

“Zane,” Emerson whined. “Stop being crazy.”

“Seriously, go make your own.”

“Zane,” Ivy whispered. “Give Eric to Tatiana and go talk to the team.”

“I can hold my son and talk to my team. Never too young to start learning strategy.”