“Natalie,” Kyle said. I looked up at his rough voice to see his eyes locked on mine. Everything he was thinking and feeling was right there on his face. The realness, the openness of it stunned me. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight. Not after what you just went through.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated in a low whisper. Strangely enough, being this close to Kyle shoved all thoughts of West out of my brain. I swallowed. Now that I was looking at Kyle, really looking, I could tell that what I’d identified as anger in his eyes was actually worry.
He was concerned? About me?
I sucked my lower lip. His gaze dropped to my mouth then moved down my deep, exposed neckline. My skin tightened like he’d given me a physical caress. I saw his Adam’s apple bob, and a light sigh flew out of my mouth, unbidden.
“That dress is dangerous, you know.” There was a guttural element to his voice that made my sex clench. Holy shit, how had I never realized how potent the guy could sound? His eyes grew heavy-lidded, the right side of his jaw ticking. “I think you should go home.”
All I could do was shake my head in response. My entire body throbbed, and my mouth opened with a sight part of my lips. If I weren’t here right now, I wouldn’t believe I was having this strong of a reaction to Kyle. I knew he could read my desire on my face; I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted him to see what I was feeling.
Wanted to see what he’d do with the open invitation in my eyes.
I wasn’t normally this impulsive, but some earthy, feminine part of me ached to push him into action. Was it the alcohol? My long-denied sexual hunger? Or was something else at play here?
Kyle blinked and looked away to rest his hand on the stall door. Then he muttered a cuss word and took a step toward me, his fingers moving behind his back. The sound of the metal sliding in the door lock made my heart give an excited lurch.
Before I realized what was happening, Kyle tugged me to him then dug his fingers into the bound hair at the nape of my neck. He lowered his head and took my mouth in a hot kiss.
There was no asking for permission, just claiming.
Rhonda Helms started writing several years ago. She has a Master's degree in English and a Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing. She also edits for Carina Press (an imprint of Harlequin Publishing) and freelance edits.
When she isn't writing, she likes to do amateur photography, dig her toes into the sand, read for hours at a time, and eat scads of cheese. WAY too much cheese.
Rhonda lives in Northeast Ohio with her family.
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