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As bullets of rain fire away and drench me, he jogs to catch up. He’s in his usual neat, white button-down and trousers, though neither are a match for the rain—they dampen and his shirt clings to every hard curve of muscle he possesses.
I stop running and let him overtake me. His arms encircle my body, and he holds me in front of him in considerate scrutiny. His usual waves of shiny, chocolatey hair are drenched and hanging about his face. He shakes several wet strands out of his eyes and pierces me with his lit, dark gaze.
“Where are you going? Why are you running? What happened?”
I gasp at the warm rain pelting down and cling to him. My long fingernails skim his forearms, and my eyes search his for comfort.
He’s puzzled—a line appearing between his brows and his lips trending downward. He opens his mouth to question me, then seems to think better of it.
I’m too upset for his police-lineup-styled questioning.
Instead, his palms cup my elbows and I’m pulled snug against his chest. He bends his head and kisses me on the lips. I’m sucked into Kaden’s orbit from the first second his lips touch mine. I’m clinging to him and feeling my heart beat against my chest in an emotion I can’t describe.
Just that Kaden’s here, I’m encircled in his arms, and we’re kissing like it’s our own language.
Maybe it is.
Butterflies fly free in my stomach. I shiver in the hot summer rain ’til Kaden clenches an arm about my lower back and yanks me up against him. He forces his tongue into my mouth and takes control. He kisses me and bites me and makes me lose my breath. I’m shuddering within his hold, not from the raindrops soaking me, but from his kiss soaking my panties.
The second heartbeat that’s throbbed to life between my thighs.
“Kaden,” I moan between our passionate kisses.
He sucks my lip and grips my ass. “Yes, little lamb?”
I pull away far enough to glance up into his dark, dangerous gaze. “Take me home.”
21Lyra
Boys Like You - Tanerélle
Kaden tries to dip out once he’s walked me up to my apartment. We’re both soaked from the rain, dripping puddles in the hallway outside my front door. I rest one hand on the knob and jiggle my ring of keys in the other.
“Coming in?” My eyes glint with insinuation.
He sticks both hands in his wet pants. “You know better than to ask. Your space is not yours.”
Anytime I’ve invited him over, he cites my male roommate as a reason he doesn’t want to stay. I haven’t been able to tell if it’s the truth, or if he feels my apartment’s beneath his rich tastes.
Sticking my key in the lock, I say, “That’s where you’re wrong. Taviar is out for the night… and the next few days. He’s visiting family in Lunsbury.”
“I’m unclear what that has to do with me.”
“I have the whole apartment to myself. Come in. Just this once.”
“On the stipulation you tell me what happened at the opera house.”
My insides twist into knots, but I agree with a reluctant nod. Hopefully he’ll forget once I’ve distracted him with a drink… or my titties.
Kaden in my home space feels unnatural. Though Taviar makes a generous enough salary to afford a three bedroom apartment in downtown Easton, he’s the farthest thing from sophisticated. Boxes fill up our living room and crinkled movie posters hang on the walls. Most of the furniture you can find at the Shop N’ Save for less than a hundred dollars a piece.
In contrast, Kaden exudes riches and refinement. One glance at him and how he presents himself, and you can justtellhe’s loaded. He has the finest of fine tastes.
Suddenly, I’m self-conscious about inviting him in to my warehouse apartment and dragging him into my shitty bedroom with my half broken bed frame and clothes strewn about the floor.
“Sorry for the mess,” I mutter. “I’m in the middle of spring cleaning.”
“It’s October.”
