Page 94 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

“What’s the magic word?” Kyle says, coming into view.

“Oh.” I blink. I thought he was an intruder, but he’s got Peanut Butter in his arms, the dog’s long legs dangling and scrabbling through the air as he tries to give Kyle licking kisses.

“Your dog, huh? You stealing him from me?”

I shrug, not apologizing. “It seemed like a good threat. And I didn’t steal him. I told you where he would be. How’d you beat us here, though?”

Kyle grins, looking at me expectantly like I’m missing something important. It takes me an embarrassingly long time before it clicks. “Why are you in my house?”

“Took you long enough. Come here, I want to show you something,” he says, putting Peanut Butter down. The dog quickly hops on my couch and lays his head down on the pillow in the corner, making himself at home.

“If it’s your dick, I’ve seen it,” I say dryly, but I mutter under my breath, “wouldn’t argue with seeing it again, though.”

“I heard that,” he calls back over his shoulder.

I smile at his teasing tone. He doesn’t seem mad, at least. So hopefully, he’ll listen to me.

In the kitchen, I realize my apology is going to have to be a hell of a lot more than a simple ‘I’m sorry.’

“What did you do?” I whisper, looking around in shock.

I’m not sure what I’m seeing. There’s a huge, rolling, wood-topped toolbox in my kitchen where my side door used to be, and where a wall was is now a sliding glass door through which should be my back yard, but instead, there’s a patio.

“Don’t be mad,” Kyle pleads, stepping away from me like I might launch myself at him.

“You put in a door?” I say hollowly, trying to make sense of what I’m looking at. “You moved my patio?”

“I wanted to help fix things so that your business isn’t messed up.”

“You didn’t have to… I could…” I stammer. I can feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes and blink them away. I don’t want to cry because I’m still looking at everything, taking it in.

But the thing I want to see most is looking at me like he’s afraid of my reaction.

It’s then that I do launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Thankfully, he catches me easily, holding me firmly with his hands cupping my ass. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry. I thought I had to do it on my own.” I pause to plant a kiss on his lips because I can’t stand not kissing him another second. “I always do everything myself. It’s been my default mode for so long because it had to be, but you…” I kiss him again, feeling the smile on his lips with my own.

“I know you can do anything, Daniela. I don’t doubt that, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here,” he says between kisses.

“I’m sorry I let my temper get the best of me. I was just so mad…” Kiss. “I could feel everything I’ve worked for slipping away…” Kiss. “And I panicked.”

He spins, kicking a chair out of his way so he can plant me on the kitchen table. He steps between my open thighs and grabs a handful of my hair, forcing my eyes to his. “You run to me. When shit goes sideways, you run to me, not from me, okay?”

It’s hard to think that way. I’ve run from every single man I’ve encountered my entire life, even Papa and Xavier to some degree. I don’t depend on them because they let me down, whether they mean to or not. But Kyle hasn’t. Not yet, and if he ever does—because no one is perfect—it won’t be with ill intentions. He wouldn’t hurt me or expect something from me that I don’t want to give.

There is one thing I want to give him, though. Something more important than an answer to his question.

I press my hand over his heart, feeling the thud through his shirt. “Kyle, I told you before that I choose you.” His eyes flare, and I can see the mixture of fear and hope in their blue depths. “I still do. I choose you because I love you.”

He inhales a jagged breath, his touch softening, gentle on my skin. Just before our lips meet, I feel him whisper, “I love you too.”

And then his mouth is mine. And mine is his.

He tilts my head, angling for more, and the emotions we’re both admitting to for the first time explode. Our kiss becomes demanding, both of us needing more.

I tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pulls away for a split second to rip it over his head. I dance my hands over his abs, splay them over his pecs, and tease at the piercings in his nipples. When he hisses in pleasure, I do it again, pulling on them a bit harder.

“Fuck,” he groans, sounding like he enjoys the blissful torture.

He yanks my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor as he goes for my bra. It too drops away as Kyle ducks his head to my nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. I arch, lifting into him for more, but instead, he pushes me back to the table’s surface.

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