by Stacie, M. A
“I’m aware of that fact, but thanks for reiterating it. I still need to clean it up, though. Sam would kill me if I didn’t.”
“You know Sam well?” he asked, giving in and tilting his face toward her. He opened his eyes and watched her.
She soaked some gauze in the bowl of warm water and raised it up to his eyebrow. Dabbing the skin, she answered his question. “Trace has been working at Metro for years. Sam was the one to show him the ropes of fight night and what he had to do. Whenever I went to meet Trace, Sam would be around.”
Kyran nodded, wincing a little when she pressed the gauze against his jaw. “I’d rather you didn’t mention this to Taylor.”
“What? You being knocked out? Sure. He won’t hear it from me.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean it all. The club, the fight, everything.”
“He doesn’t know you fight?”
Kyran shook his head, relaxing his body and closing his eyes again. His knee rested against hers, and she tried not to feel enamored by how long his eyelashes were or how full his lips were when he wasn’t snarling.
“But how do you explain the bruises? You have to be at work tomorrow, right?”
“Got a shitload of meetings. I’m going to have to cancel, which pisses me off to no end. As for the bruises, either I avoid Taylor for a couple of days or avoid the club and don’t get them in the first place.”
“Why do you do it?” Dale asked, setting the bowl onto the glass coffee table. “The whole bare-knuckle boxer image doesn’t fit with your corporate one.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice soft. It seemed like he was too tired to argue with her. He rested back again, placing his hand flat on the couch between them. She could hear him breathing, deep and slow. His chest rose and fell with a steady pace. While Kyran relaxed, Dale scanned the apartment, noticing it lacked personality. There were no framed photos, no little knickknacks from journeys, or gifts from family. The place was basically one huge studio with a bookcase separating the living space from the bedroom. Even the kitchen was open to the rest of the apartment, and the bathroom was the only room that had a door. It was all rather austere. Much like Mr. Reese. But it was very different from Kyran. They were two sides of the one man. Two very confusing sides.
“I thought you were making me coffee,” he muttered, barely audible.
“Truth is I don’t think you need the caffeine. You should sleep.”
“Hmm,” was his low response. “Maybe you should come with me.”
Kyran cocked his brow, waiting for her response. Gulping, she touched his hand, deciding to call his bluff. She straddled his lap and rolled her hips suggestively. Dale pressed her breasts against his chest, her nipples pushing at the fabrics of her dress and Trace’s sweater. Kyran smoothed his hands along her thighs, stopping just underneath the hem of her dress. She shivered, bringing her lips to his ear. “I doubt you could do anything even if I did,” she whispered.
Kyran gave a light snore in reaction. He had fallen asleep. She moved off him, flopping back on the couch and glaring at him for passing out, as though he was aware of the unintentional rejection. Squeezing her thighs together tightly, she beat down her burning lust. Dale’s disappointment was soon overshadowed by concern at the speed in which he’d fallen asleep. Kyran could have concussion, and he shouldn’t be left alone. The bed was too far away, and she decided she couldn’t carry him. After nudging him a few times, it was obvious he was out for the count. It left her with one option, one she would no doubt regret tomorrow when he chewed her out. She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch, pulling Trace’s sweater over her knees and down her legs. Leaving space between them, she closed her eyes, and listened to Kyran’s steady breaths.
Dale was about to sleep with her boss less than two days after meeting him.
Chapter 6
Dale stretched and yawned. For a moment she wondered where the hell she was, but the creak of the leather as she moved on the couch, coupled with Kyran’s soft snores, restored her equilibrium.
He was sleeping on his side, chest pressed to her hip with his arm slung across her thighs. At some point he must have removed his hoodie because it lay discarded on the floor, and his torso was now naked.
Using her elbows, Dale propped herself up, cautious of making any big movements that might jostle him. Taking her time, she let her gaze drift over him, checking out every contour of his body. His biceps bulged even when relaxed, the definition of each muscle very clear. His tattooed arm stood out against the paleness of her skin—a stunning contrast.
Dale drank in his toned side and his abs. She continued looking down to the path of dark hair that disappeared under his jeans.
Kyran’s naked torso was a beautiful thing to wake up to, even though she could only see half of it. She took the time to have a good look while he was unaware, following the planes of each muscle that ran across his chest and abdomen. Licking her lips, she suddenly felt thirsty. He’d go crazy if he knew she was eying him up, but then he was going to anyway when he realized she’d slept here next to him.
Light spilled in from the huge windows, making it difficult for her to slip back into slumber. Dale checked her watch, noticing it was later than she’d first thought.
Needing to leave so she wouldn’t be late for work on her third day, she tried easing out from under Kyran. He grunted, gripping tighter onto her legs, and if she’d questioned his strength before, it was moot now.
Carefully, Dale tried to peel his fingers one by one from her thigh. Her heart beat double time when he tightened his hold. She looked up at his face and smiled, very nervous when she met his sleepy green eyes.
“Um, hi,” she said feebly.
His dark brows shot up. Kyran blinked three times before he looked down her body. She felt naked even though she still wore her brother’s sweater.
“See anything you like, Ms. Porter?” His voice was gravelly and low. Humor shone in his eyes but Dale didn’t fool easy.
“I w-was checking if you were okay. That’s all.”
He flexed his fingers on her thigh an instant before he pulled her down the length of the couch level with him. She met him face to face. Dale widened her eyes when he hooked her leg over his hip.
“Is this what you wanted, Dale?”
“I—”
“Lost for words?” He inched his fingers a little higher, pushing up the sweater and hem of her dress at the same time. He hummed while stroking his fingertips along the edge of her panties. Dale squirmed, so Kyran repeated the action.
“Why aren’t you mad?” she asked, amazed at his behavior.
“I’m currently asleep and therefore dreaming. I’ll leave the anger until I wake up.”
“Really?” She tilted her lips upward with humor. “What makes you think you’re not awake now?”
“Well.” He all but purred, hooking his finger into the neck of her sweater and tugging on it so that he could see underneath. “I very much doubt you’d allow me to do that. Or this.” He rolled her underneath him, skimming his hand down her side until he held her hip.
“Think again,” Dale replied in a breathy tone. They began rocking their hips against one another’s as they spoke, each roll causing her sex to clench. “You have no reason to be here, so it must be a dream.” It was another excuse, this time not as confident.
She waited for the shutdown, for Kyran to understand she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. A part of her did question why he’d dream about her so readily and why that didn’t faze him.
Dale stroked her hand along his chest, down his abdomen, and with one finger, teased the edge of his jeans. Never taking her eyes from his, she watched a solitary eyebrow lift in question as his stomach muscles contracted from her touch. How could she want him so much after such a short time? She’d never been one of those girls; she had to know someone before any attraction developed. With Kyran, it was all so very different from before, and that was why she disliked the uncharted terr
itory they were entering.
“I helped you,” she said, still caressing his hardened abdomen. “I was worried you were badly hurt.”
Dale brushed her fingers across the coarse hairs above the waistband of his jeans. Kyran moaned, thrusting his hips against her hand. He closed his eyes. Dale tried to tell herself to stop but was too weak to listen. The ever-growing ache between her thighs, along with her tingling nipples, didn’t help her conviction. The man was driving her insane.
Kyran opened his eyes and shot up, bracing himself above her by placing his hands on either side of her head. He searched her face in confusion.
“Morning.” She grinned at him.
“W-what the?” he stammered, drawing his brows together. Dale noted he hadn’t moved, his groin still pressed against hers. She waited, recognizing the instant realization dawned on him. Kyran’s pupils dilated, his eyes crinkled at the sides as they thinned in thought. He moved his jaw from side to side, groaning when it all finally hit home.
Dale stilled, ready for his temper.
“How bad is my face?” he asked. That hadn’t been what she’d expected at all.
“Horrid,” she answered holding back a smile. “You’re going to scare everyone today.”
“Christ! Seriously?” Kyran jumped off her and stomped across the apartment to the mirror by the front door. Dale stood up, her body still humming from his touch.
The muscles of his back rippled as he walked before bunching tightly when he lifted his hand to assess the bruises on his jaw and cheek. Sam had expected a black eye, but Kyran had managed to avoid one. Instead, his cheekbone was marred with a deep purple bruise matching the one on his jaw.
“Fuck.” He spun to face her. The aggression she’d already grown used to emanated from him. The power vibrating through the air blasted from him in waves. “What am I supposed to do about these?” His lips twisted as he spoke.
Adjusting her sweater, she huffed. “It’s not my problem. Anyway, you said you were going to cancel today’s meetings.”
“I can’t. Christ!” he shouted, fisting his hands at his sides.
“There’s no middle ground with you, is there?” Dale reached for her purse. “I mean, it’s like you’re either cold and angry or hot and . . .”
Her words drifted off as she saw the flicker of suggestion flit across his face.
“Hard.” Kyran finished for her, prowling forward as though she was his prey. “Were you about to say hot and hard?”
“See! That’s exactly what I mean. You were spitting fire just a second ago and now . . . now you’re . . . well, you’re . . .”
“You seem to be struggling with verbalizing your thoughts, Dale,” he whispered, dipping his head into the crook of her neck. Dale felt the tip of his nose skim upward along the column of her throat, and his breath fanned across the skin. She exhaled, gripping his bare bicep in an attempt to keep her balance. He was making her lightheaded.
“You’re crowding me.”
“Excuses.”
The lust she’d experienced in the elevator returned plus interest, hitting her hard. She fought to clear her head, reminding herself that the man currently pressed against her was her boss. It was useless. The desire slamming through her acted of its own volition.
Kyran moved his mouth closer to hers as she responded to his soft touches. Molding herself against him, she smiled as his lips met the corner of hers. His kiss would be more like a devouring, no doubt. Bracing herself, she sighed, placing her palm flat against his chest.
“I do have one question, though,” he murmured, cupping her ass.
“And that is?” Her mouth moved across his when she spoke, heated breath escaping and adding to the embers of lust that were sparking into life.
He tensed. Kyran stared at her, and held her against him a bit too hard. “Who invited you to stay?”
Kyran’s words were clipped, his tone curt. Dale knew this was coming.
“You were a mess, Kyran.” His brows rose when she spoke his name. “I worried about leaving you, especially if you had a concussion. The guy hit you hard. I didn’t mean to stay the night, but I couldn’t leave you alone after what happened.”
“It wasn’t your place to invite yourself.” He broke eye contact to search the room. “And why did you undress me?”
“I didn’t.” She pushed away from him.
“I hope you didn’t upload any compromising pictures to any of your social networks. I’ll sue.”
“Get a grip.” She raised her voice, somewhat hysterical. “You must have undressed yourself during the night because when I closed my eyes you were still wearing your hoodie. Maybe I should be the one concerned about photos as you woke up at some point to remove it.”
“Doubtful.”
Finding the offending hoodie on the floor, he picked it up and tugged it over his head, shoving his arms into the sleeves.
“I left your gym bag by the door.”
Humming a response, Kyran ran his hand across his head, a sense of calm replacing his agitation. “What time is it?”
Dale checked her watch. “Almost seven thirty.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Look, now that I know that you’re okay, I’ll leave. I have to get showered and ready for work.”
Kyran smiled a little at her. His moods changed so fast they gave her a headache.
“Your boss a stickler for punctuality, huh?”
“Something like that,” she replied, playing along. “I hear he can be a bit of an ass, accuses people of doing things they haven’t. I was told someone helped him out one night. She stayed the night to make sure he didn’t slip into a coma or anything, but when he woke up, he was real mean to her.”
“I hear he was only an ass because she confused the daylights out of him.”
It was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get. “Oh?”
“That’s the rumor.”
“Good to know.” Dale reached for her purse and retrieved an elastic tie before pulling her curls into a messy ponytail. “I’ll call a cab from outside.”
She started to walk over to the door, happy that their discussion about last night hadn’t gone as badly as she’d anticipated. Kyran stopped her by wrapping his fingers around her wrist. He stroked her pulse point gently, starting a new wave of tingles. “Thanks,” he said. “For last night.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You can use the shower, if you want. I’ll call the cab.”
“Is that the Kyran Reese version of a peace offering?”
“It’s all you’re getting.” Giving her wrist a quick squeeze, he let go and pointed across the apartment. “It’s over there. Towels are on the glass shelf. If you look in the cabinet beneath the sink, you’ll find a new toothbrush and some girlie shit.”
Dale hummed before saying, “Interesting. You keep feminine toiletries for . . . ?”
“I think that’s obvious, Dale.” He lowered his voice, ramping up her libido. “Though I admit you’re the first female ever to enter this apartment and leave untouched by me. You go against every rule I’ve ever laid down.”
“Good.” She padded over to the bathroom door, turning before she entered. “But I wouldn’t say I was untouched.”
Willing his legs to stay put, he groaned as she closed the door. He wanted to go to her, strip her bare, and pound into her as the water cascaded around them both. The need thumped within him—steady like his heartbeat—the longer she remained in the room.
Getting his shit together, Kyran found his phone in his gym bag and shot Taylor a text, letting him know he’d be late. Christ! He knew Taylor would still arrive at the office far later than he would. The man was a fucking mess.
To divert his train of thought, he called Dale a cab before starting to make coffee. It took a minute or two for the deep, rich scent to the fill the room. He breathed in deep, enjoying the aroma. Three days ago his world had been flipped upside down. Dale Porter had wobbled into his office and c
aused nothing but chaos since. Kyran still didn’t have the slightest idea how he was going to deal with it. Not usually the kind of man who could wing it, he found himself acting on instinct rather than planning each interaction. That was why he’d reach for her one moment, and yet pushed her away the next.
Kyran was at war with himself.
“I have got to get me one of those showers!” Dale shouted in excitement as she closed the bathroom door.
“Coffee?” he asked, leaving her outburst unacknowledged.
Walking over to him, she hopped up onto a stool at the kitchen island. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup and her damp hair pulled off her face, she looked no older than a teenager. The woman was enchanting in ways he couldn’t afford.
“Love some, but I should go. Work.”
“I think I have a to-go mug somewhere.” He opened a cabinet and started to search.
“No, it’s fine. I can get one when I’m all set up at my desk.”
They walked together to the door; he placed his hand on the base of her spine. He wasn’t even aware of the touch until she turned to face him. His body always betrayed him.
“I guess I’ll speak to you later—at work, I mean.” She tugged the oversized sweater further down her thighs, covering herself from his hungry eyes, no doubt.
“Meetings.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll see the light of day for a while.”
“Oh. What will you say about the bruises?”
“Fuck knows. I’ll think of something, and I’d appreciate it if you remember I don’t want Taylor finding out. About any of it.”
“He won’t.” Dale rummaged through her purse, smiling as she pulled out a thin, shiny tube along with a compact. “I could make the bruises less noticeable. If you wanted.”
“Makeup?” She popped the lid off the tube, lifting it toward his face. Kyran backed up. “I don’t wear makeup.”
“Of course you don’t, but you don’t want Taylor to see them, so what other option is there?”
Kyran grew quiet as he weighed up his choices. “I need to shower. It’ll wash off.”
