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More kissing. More touching. More tasting.
I barely have a handle on my thoughts when I climb into bed a few hours from sunrise.
Now I know what she tastes like and I didn’t get enough. I want another hit. One was woefully inadequate.
No. That kiss was for her, not for me.
But telling myself that does little to quell my mind.
I want Kyra Dalton, and I absolutely cannot have her.
CHAPTER FIVE
DEMONS – IMAGINE DRAGONS
Kyra
It’s Sunday.
The first Sunday after I moved in with Sutton, and there’s a pit in my stomach that I can’t decipher. The past few days I found myself kneeling by my bed on more than one occasion, but no words came. Since that’s how my prayers went, I’m almost scared to go to church. Is that what this is? Fear? It feels like shame. And confusion and…guilt.
“Kyra?” Sutton’s voice startles me. I spin from the bathroom mirror to find her tall pajama-clad frame in the doorway.
My hand flies to my throat and I can feel my heartbeat pounding beneath my fingers.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked and called out, but you were in another world. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yes.” I correct. “It’s just a strange day.”
She nods in understanding. “You have a visitor.”
A shiver races up my spine with the fleeting thought that my mom has found me. If she chose any day, it would be today. The image of her dragging me up to the dais in front of our whole congregation, a recurring nightmare these past few days, has my whole body tensing. I attempt to bury the notion with a few calming breaths. Sutton would never let anyone she didn’t know past her door. My mom, with all her money and her fancy last name, wouldn’t even make it past the doorman.
“Who?” I ask, still struggling with my riotous thoughts.
She raises a brow. “The list of people you and I both know that don’t live here is not a long one.”
Butterflies war with my tense stomach and my face heats. I glance down at the skimpy pink satin sleep set Sutton bought for me, the twin to the nighty she’s sporting under her long white robe.
Sutton takes a loud sip of her espresso. “Are you just going to leave him out there?”
“Yes—no, I mean”—I reach behind the door for my robe, frowning at the sheer fabric—“I just need to put this on first.” I run my tongue over my teeth. “And brush my teeth. And hair,” I add, my obvious bed head making me cringe in the mirror.
“Don’t take too long. He’s on a schedule. And he may or may not have a present for you.”
I rush to make myself presentable and Sutton’s light laugh trails behind her as she leaves.
“What are you wearing?” Leo asks when I walk into the room.
I cling to the knot at the front of the robe. No hello. No good morning, dolcezza.
Before I can answer, Sutton pauses her rifling and peers around the refrigerator door. “Want to try that again, Leo?” she scolds.
He turns his focus to her. “I didn’t buy that for her, Sutton.”
She returns to the fridge. “No, you didn’t,” she says simply.
I stand there, my body heating as his piercing gaze scrutinizes every inch of exposed flesh. The lace trim and the gauzy fabric that made me feel sexy and confident now has me squirming against the phantom grip my mother has on my arm as she makes me face an imaginary congregation. I can hear her echoing his words. What are you wearing?
