Page 36 of Kilo's Edge

He groaned. “I’m going to have to up my cardio after this, Woman. You’re going to make me gain weight.” He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “Unless that’s your plan?” He arched a brow. “You trying to fatten me up so no other woman will want me?”

Tilting my head, I studied him. He hadn’t put on an ounce. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased, faking an innocent tone.

He grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me in for a kiss. Every muscle in my body relaxed into him. If there was any doubt in my mind that I trusted and cared for this man, my own body’s reaction would have put me at ease.

I moaned softly when his tongue swept into my mouth. His other hand slipped under the back of my tank top, his palm warm on my skin. When he pulled back, he looked down at me. “Come on in.” His voice was husky and deep.

Sucking in a breath, I stepped past him into his house. “Is Overdrive stopping by tonight?” Sometimes his friend joined us on our movie nights.

“No.”

I looked over at him and saw the glint in his eyes. We both seemed to know that something was different tonight. I went into his kitchen and put the lasagna in his oven to reheat. Leaning back against the counter, I watched him come in toward me.

“What do you want to watch tonight?”

“You choose,” I told him. I’d picked the last few movies.

“Alright,” he was watching me like a predator would prey. Like if he took his eyes off me I might run off.

Try it, he might chase you.

I didn’t think I’d mind Kilo chasing after me. Especially not once he caught me. “It’ll only take a few minutes to heat this up,” I told him, trying to force my mind back to the here and now. I wrung my hands together, feeling awkward. It didn’t matter that I wanted him, this was still nerve wracking for me.

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at me. “I like your shorts.”

I blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “Thank you.”

“They new?”

Should I admit that they were? That I’d bought them for him?

He stalked closer to me and ran his hand up the outer side of my thigh, making my heart skip a beat. “Your skin is so fucking soft.”

I swallowed, staring up at him, unsure of how to respond to that.

His lips tipped up on one side. “Did you buy these for me, Camila?”

Oh Lord.

Those words in that low voice were doing something to me. I wanted to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them, but his hand was already there, fingers running over the inside of my knee. I settled for nodding. Playing hard to get was never my strong suit. I was too damn honest.

His fingers were back to the outside of my leg and moving upward, under the hem of the shorts. “You trying to kill me?” he teased. “Wearing these little booty shorts over here?”

I shook my head. Killing him wasn’t in my plans. I needed him very much alive.

“But you are. Then you wear this white tank top that doesn’t quite reach the shorts.” His hand skimmed up to my stomach and his fingers disappeared under the hem of my shirt. He groaned and my disappointment was heavy when his hand left my skin. But then he gripped my hips and lifted me onto the counter, as if I weighed nothing.

I gasped, holding onto his shoulders so that I didn’t fall forward with the sudden movement. “Kilo-”

“Nope,” he said, cutting me off. “You don’t get to come over here, teasing me, then tell me not to do the things I’ve been thinking about for over a month. Have some fucking mercy on me, Woman.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you to stop,” I told him, voice quiet but firm.

His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t?”

I shook my head, then leaned down and kissed him.

He let out a rumble of pleasure as he deepened the kiss.

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