Page 24 of Heat It Up (Off the Ice)
The place is bigger than Muumu’s apartment, but that’s because it has two bedrooms instead of one. Kyle points to the door at the end of the hallway, where it turns into a T-junction, and tells me he’ll meet me there in a minute.
I end up in the bathroom. Even though two guys live here, the place is clean. The navy towels are lined up neatly on the towel rack. The tub is clean, and so is the sink. Not at all what I was expecting.
I check the damage to my face in the mirror. The cut isn’t deep, only half an inch. It might not leave a scar if I’m lucky, but there’s no way I can hide it from Muumu. And how the hell will I explain what happened? She’s going to freak. Or maybe I can pretend I accidentally walked into a branch. With me, that’s highly believable.
Kyle returns with a first aid kit. “Okay, jump up.” He pats the counter next to the sink. Once I’m up, he nudges my legs apart and steps between them. He examines the cut, his fingers tracing the skin below it.
And I examine his lips.
An electrifying buzz hums through my body, starting from where our bodies touch. I’m both vulnerable and on fire, and I don’t want the feeling to end.
“True or false,” I whisper. “You have a pet Chihuahua in Minneapolis.”
His chuckle is a low, sexy rumble. “I prefer bigger dogs. My parents have a golden retriever.”
“Those are my favorite breed.”
His gaze drops to my lips for a heartbeat before tearing away. He removes gauze from the first aid kit, rips the package open, and leans around me to turn the tap on, placing his hand on my hip. His ocean scent eases its way around me, embraces me, fires me up. His chest glances mine, and the electric buzz intensifies to the point where I’m ready to forget the cut. I want him. All of him.
Water splashes in the sink behind me. It stops and Kyle moves slightly back. His eyes focus on my cheek and he dabs the cut. The cold, wet gauze soothes the stinging. Next, he opens the Steri-Strips and applies them to my cut, sealing the edges together. His gaze shifts from my wound to my eyes and he drinks me in for a long second.
My heart flutters against my ribs, like Mina in her birdcage when she gets excited. With Kyle as close as he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if his neighbors can hear it.
As if some magnetic force pulls us together, we drift toward each other, hesitate, then our mouths collide. Tasting. Wanting. Thriving. I moan as his tongue teases mine. Normally I wouldn’t find his beer taste so erotic, but everything about this man gets me excited. Even when I know he shouldn’t have this affect on me. Even when I know I should walk away and protect my heart.
But I can’t, and it goes beyond wanting to have sex with Kyle and temporarily forgetting the past. There’s something about him, his sense of humor, his tenderness, his thoughtfulness, that makes me want to learn everything there is to know about him. To know all his secrets and his dreams.
I tangle my fingers in his hair. The soft strands curl loosely around them. My legs wrap around his hips as if they have a mind of their own. My short skirt hikes up to the tops of my thighs. I’m exposed, vulnerable, but I don’t care. I want to feel him next to me. Against me.
The thickening length in Kyle’s jeans presses against my panties and the aching throb beneath. Kyle leans in, and I moan in his mouth at the sensation rocking my body. My fingers tighten their grip on his hair. But just as I think he’s going to do me right here on the counter, he pulls away from my lips, breath ragged, and rests his forehead on mine.
“We need to stop,” he whispers, though he sounds like stopping is the last thing he wants. My body silently groans in protest.Isilently groan in protest. But then I remember why he’d want to stop, and it’s not because he isn’t interested in me.
I finger the hem of his t-shirt and inch it up until I’ve exposed the skin where the guy viciously booted him. Kyle reaches down and whips the fabric over his head, then tosses it onto the floor. I catch the tail end of the wince on his face from the movement, and my gaze skims over his hard chest, covered with a scattering of fading scars, to where he was hit on his side. A bruise the size of my fist is already forming. The bruise is faint, but by tomorrow it will be black.
I touch it, my finger tracing over his skin. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s fine.”
“And you’re lying.” I jump down from the counter. “Go lie on your bed. I’ll be right there.” I start to leave, but realize I have no idea where his room is. I don’t exactly want to step into his roommate’s by mistake. I turn back to Kyle. “Which one’s your room?”
“The one across from the bathroom.”
I locate the kitchen and rummage through the drawers until I find a small plastic bag. I open the freezer and remove the ice cube trays. After dumping ice into the bag and tying it up, I track down Kyle’s room.
I find him lying on his bed, eyes closed, t-shirt still off. I kneel next to him. The bed dips under my weight but his eyes remain closed. “Are you sleeping?” I whisper.
“If I am, don’t wake me up. I don’t want this to end.”
I frown. “You don’t want the pain to end?”
He peers at me. “No. I don’t want to wake up and find out I only dreamt you were in bed with me.”
I wiggle a little closer to him and place the icepack on his ribs. “I got some ice to help with the bruising.”
He closes his eyes again. “That wasn’t quite what I imagined in my dream.” His words fade with the final ones and his breathing eases.
I yawn, the events of the evening heavy on me like a blanket, pulling me into a state of sleepiness. I blink it away, and cover Kyle with the bedding.
