He seemed offended by her suggestion. "I'm yours, Kyra, for as long as you will have me, and I hope it's forever, but if it's not, then until you tell me to get lost."
She swallowed. Even thinking of such an eventuality was difficult, and that was absurd given that they weren't even a couple yet.
"Let's take it one day at a time," she murmured.
"I get it." He leaned over, stopping a fraction of an inch away from her mouth. "You want to take it slow. Want to try another kiss? That one was just the appetizer."
"Yes," she said. "I do."
As their mouths fused, Max snaked his arm under her bottom and lifted her onto his lap, but just as his tongue was about to breach the seal of her lips, the penthouse front door opened, and the two of them jumped apart like a couple of teenagers caught red-handed, doing something they were not supposed to.
"Sorry to interrupt." Fenella walked in and beelined for the kitchen. "I got hungry and came for the leftovers."
28
MAX
Max woke with a start, sheets tangled around his legs and the vivid remnants of his dream still burning behind his eyelids. Kyra's face, Kyra's lips, Kyra's body pressed against his—images that had tormented him through the night, leaving him aroused and frustrated.
He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. It had been a rough night, cycling between dreams of Kyra and periods of forced wakefulness as he tried not to disrespect her by taking matters into his own hands, so to speak. Though he wondered if she'd even find that offensive.
Some women might be flattered that a man fantasized about them.
But with Kyra, he wasn't willing to take any chances. Fates knew he'd screwed up enough relationships in his long life—not with women so much since meaningful relationships with humans had been impossible, but with friends and family.
He wasn't particularly smooth or naturally considerate, and despite his best efforts, someone always seemed to get hurt by anunintentional callous remark or something he was supposed to do but didn't, or vice versa.
Max wasn't going to screw it up with Kyra, though. She was too important to him.
Those two nearly chaste kisses they'd shared in the penthouse had blown his mind despite their simplicity. Just lips meeting lips, nothing more, yet they had been more profound than the best sex he'd had.
Maybe because she was the one, his one and only, his truelove mate, and nothing and no one could ever compare.
Was he jumping the gun on this?
Nah. He knew in his heart and gut that he was right. He just needed to prove it to Kyra.
After a quick cold shower, he dressed and made his way to the kitchen. The coffeemaker was already brewing, and its rich aroma was a welcome greeting. Alfie stood at the counter, staring blearily at his phone while waiting for the pot to finish.
"Morning," Max said, pulling two mugs from the cabinet.
Alfie grunted in response.
As the coffeemaker announced its completion with a beep, Max filled both mugs, sliding one toward Alfie before doctoring his own with cream and sugar.
"You're up early," Alfie observed, seeming to gain coherence with the first sip of coffee. "Are you on shift today?"
"I haven't gotten my assignment yet. I need to talk to the chief and see if I can stay here. I have a vested interest in that Doomer and an even greater one in Kyra."
There was no point in trying to hide his feelings for her. The more people knew that she was his, the better. He didn't want any competition.
Alfie cracked a smile. "Congrats. Does she return the interest?"
"It's too early to tell." Max didn't feel right to say that she did. It was better to leave things vague and let Alfie's imagination fill in the gaps. "I'm working on it," he added to make it clear that Kyra was off-limits.
"Good luck." Alfie finished his coffee, rinsed out the cup, and put it on the drying rack. "I'm heading out."
"Just a reminder," Max said. "I want to be the one interrogating the Doomer, so don't start without me. I'll be down after I talk to Onegus."